1 year, 4 months and 29 days!

1 year, 4 months and 29 days – that is how long it took this nightmare to finally end. 1 year, 4 months and 29 days – I counted!

I sat at the meetings yesterday and I couldn’t help but feel tears burn my eyes and this need to go curl up in some corner and process all things. I finally calmly stood up and walked out to go have a private talk with the only person who understood what was happening inside of me.

“Its finally over,” I silently whispered, knowing that who that was meant for would hear me.

“it has been a long time coming,” the conversation carried on, and for the next 20 minutes all I could do was stand there in that private space and allow my heart to bubble forth all that it was trying to string up to make up proper sentences. (how grateful I am that this person I was trying to communicate with was a master at reading hearts and putting inaudible and jumbled up sentence together).

This has been a long journey. A journey filled with hard lessons, strengthened relations, many sleepless nights and desperate pleadings to anybody who would bother to take a moment and hear me. I fought and lost many battles during this time and I have watched many walk away from me when they assumed I was too much of a mess for them to handle. I have harboured bitter resentment and even managed to get myself slapped around a couple of times by my inner self when it had finally grown tired of the bundle of mess that I had become.

I let a few go too – a type of lesson that I suppose could only be taught this way. Its amazing how fast this type scatters when things start to fall apart.

I found that inner strength that people in those talk shows usually go on about. My inner strength tho came in the form of two enemies who both pulled at me in different directions and at times all I could do was listen in while they had one of their usual screaming contests. Each claimed that they knew what was best for me. There were times when the ganged up on me tho and times when they screamed at me and threatened me when they too grew tired of this bundle of mess that was Me. Cindy and Habit, I called them.

Lessons came too – hard and fast with power relations forged with a few people in my circle that I call the ESSENTIALS. This is a group of people that took my late night calls. They stayed up and listened to me rumble on and on and at times they spat words hard to hear and truths tough to swallow. I didn’t like them much then but I know they meant well. *thinking of B who made me cry one night* To Ms thing, Lady B and Ms LoydBanks herself – MUCH LOVE and APPRICIATION. Look what all of you have done – *raised wine glass and a bow of respect to each of you*

1 year, 4 months and 29 days is how long it took and its finally done.

I know where I am going. The email I sent this morning tells me so. There are no more tears for this and no more regrets here.

With the last final bow, I finally take this closed chapter and throw it in the huge barn fire that I have made for all the pain, hurt, resentment, hate and tear jerking memories. Its done. Its closed and finally burned from existence.

I take a deep breath, say a final “Thank you” to the person I have been silently speaking to and walk back into the hall to join in on the song of praise. I look back, catch his eye and wink at him while I smile and sort it all into words so I can tell him all about it later!

(You should meet him... he is amazing!)

Love is like a motorcycle ride

This is my true and honest confession: I am a self proclaimed ROMANTIC junkie who has gone as far as deciding how she would like the order of things to go so as to merit as ALLOWABLE and ACCEPTED.

And then the problem sets in:

We live in the year 2011 where regardless of how well thought out things may be, they never really do end up happening like that and if they do – exactly point for point as set out – then you may find yourself with even bigger problems.

I am a passionate mental doodler and in my mind, things should happen in this manner:

·         We would meet

·         I would eventually agree to drinks/lunch/supper

·         I would conclude that he is ok and agree to a second date

·         4 successful dates later and we would do the exclusive thing

·         2-3 successful years later and we would do the marriage thing

{Tune in a great sound track and all is well with the world}

And here I am…. Struggling to keep up with my own mental notes.

Feels a lot like riding a motorcycle for the first time (not that I have but I imagine it would be something like this): As great as the ride is going, I am stuck on making sure that my helmet is on securely and ensuring that my knee pads don’t slip of.  I have a check list that I'm trying to tick off as we pass mile stone after mile stone. On top of all of that, is the worry of where the bike is headed. The ironical part of it all is – regardless of all my inhibitions… this bike moves and it doesn’t do easy and slow. It roars to life and promises a thrill rush – helmet or not.

If there are some things that I'm learning during the bike ride, one of them would be: that the best bike rides have no planned routes. They don’t do list-tick-offs or being subjected to controlled doses. This is LOVE and it does not do rules. It over whelms and excites. It takes over you like a high tide wave and evokes a rush of weird, amazing, great and breath taking emotions all at once. Coupled with attraction it promises an even wilder experience that does not wait for you to give permission – it takes over and while it can leave you unravelled, it does promise you a thrill rush – list or not.

So being long overdue at this stage: here is a new mental doodle in tune with the times:

·         We would meet

·         Hang on tight and let whatever completely take over…

So while I sit safely behind the driver of this bike, I let my helmet fall off and let the air through my hair. The thought at that very moment (besides how great it feels to be close to him) is: I know I will love where this bike is going to stop

The joy factor

I put my head phones on and bop around to some random playlist I found and played…

“Its an amazing place to be”, I say while smiling at the reflection of myself in the mirror I was cleaning. My house is warm, my meal is cooked, I have a plan and most importantly, My Heart Is Washed…

It took some doing to get here.

I had heard it all lately. Some was not really said but more suggested by the actions shown. I heard worthless and undeserving and something along the lines of condemned hurt. A lot of times, that just left me thrown on the floor with a million feelings – disbelief being the more prominent. How possible was it that after so long, I still find me here? Has time forgotten that healing thing it was supposed to do? “Get on with it will ya” I would silently shout and wish it would wake up from its slumber and save us all.

This was a new level of tired. I was tired of the tears; I was tired of the empty pep talks I gave myself. I was so tired of all the desperate sms’s sent to the girls - which took forever to compose because I would work hard to dilute the pathetic in them by a joke or two although silently I wished the girls would pick up on it. Hell I was tired of pleading for a brake and I was very close to the point of lost hope.

And now – here I am. Refined I think.

Looking back, I have been taught tough lessons and I have had my priorities tweeked. Also, with the events of the past week, my worth has been defended and I have permanently been stamped with the stamp of approval – not by some guy or some culture made up by god-knows-who, but rather by the essentials in my world, the family I love, the girls who have been there since forever and by this guy who humbly asked for permission to call me and who says he is willing to hear me…

I woke up this morning to the coldest day this year. I still jumped out of bed tho and nearly over worked my facial muscles with this smile I can’t seem to wipe off.

 

“its an amazing place to be”

My hand bag is packed with all the essentials, my books for lesson prep are staked and with the last bite of my breakfast, I hurry down the passage with my heels clicking away with the sound of a women on a mission. If I'm not mistaken, I think I hear too a tune my shoes are playing that seems to make my feet wanna dance and skip on to work.

Hello world – I have returned!