forfucksakes.

and for a moment I believed that the direction in which we wander had changed, steered far enough to the right that we would not fall into the circular dance. I was wrong, and it's discouraging. along the lines of 'whatthefucksthepointanyways'. nothing to say, nothing to do - just pile up the resentment inside this closet of flesh and bones until the weight of it kills me. now that's a compromise, if I've ever heard one :|

new beginnings.

and like a fool, i truly believed it would all just fall into place. blindly I marched into the next chapter hoping for the best... but really, what was I expecting? I couldn't tell you. Some understanding, some room.. to do some for me. So deprived of creativity and fresh air to breathe in and breathe out. I just want a little spot for my own air to breathe. I've got it coming, a corner in the big palace of a home that will soon be ours. And there is a part of me hoping that it will change things. So naive. What doesn't take work, doesn't mean much. I know this somewhere amongst all the things I don't have time for. Somewhere in my head there is logic, understanding, hope. Stolen moments that I'll hold onto with both hands, white knuckles. It's just a jumble of thoughts and memories, and I can't really tell you what it means anymore. I suppose I can't really say a whole lot, but I'm excited and I'm nervous and I'm really, truly, honestly hoping for good things coming. We've earned it.

illusionist.

too personal. and where will that get me? what good has ever come from wearing my heart on my sleeve? my throat is sore and my voice is tired and i find myself wondering what the point is anymore. what service does it do, aside from leaving me feeling empty and raped of my pride?

... is that what it's come down too? just surrendering my integrity? what a shame. what a damn fucking shame. when the hell did I become so bendable - allowing myself to sacrifice what I hold dear and important for some illusion of security. so much brewing anger, and it just gets suppressed to the point that I wonder what I'm even doing that's productive. how can I do anything without letting that filter into it?

My uncertainty is frightening. I can't help but wonder - but never really looking deep enough to feel gratified, scared of what I might find. And please don't think for a moment that I'm not satisfied in the work I do. I know, my children are loved and well-cared for. I know, that I am good, made from solid bones and raised with the right mind. what was that you said? how can you make someone else happy, if you can't be happy yourself. tell me how.

whose to say.

there is no end in sight. it's just a long, long road and u-turns are prohibited. so keep moving, keep watching and walking and running and singing and thinking. keep your mind open and roll with it. and we will all come for the journey - and we will all learn something from it, it will teach us all. maybe it will harden us, or maybe it will make us weak in the knees. whose to say? i just know one thing is for certain... it's inevitable, the journey. you can not stop time, for it will continue on with out you and keep going long after you have fallen behind. and so you must roll, or it will suck you in and spit you out. and whose to say it isn't for the best? whose to say. i only hope that we keep our eyes open and know when to keep our mouths shut. know when to roll and when to run. know how to stop and when to say thank you, and sorry. i can only do so much before i am unrelenting. and i hope that it is all worth it once it's eventually over. for every beginning must come to some beginnings end. and then a new chapter will begin, and the process will inevitably start again. but whose to say, it isn't only just beginning?

i know but one freedom, and that is the freedom of the mind.

the work of deceiving yourself is that of such tactic and skill that I am surprised so many of us futile human beings can pull it off. the spins and twirls and flips you must perform, it really should be classified as an art form. and yet, despite the grueling process of learning how to do it with skill, we continue on to deceive. it get's to the point where we even believe our own bullshit - and really, if we're not even on our own team.. who will be? so on goes the dance of deceit and the sad reality that our own bullshit is believable to us... so when do we stop? when does it become too hard to keep up with, too much strain on our sanity? I suppose we'd have to stop just the same way we started, but reversed. because I've learned that the truth is even harder to accept, for most. who want's to hear that it's all bullshit? we are pre-programmed (via society, our peers, the media..) to 'see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil.' and if we're being frank - that's the point, right? it's all too fucking hard to hear. and so in the end, it's a choice - you can go on deceiving yourself, and believing your own bullshit... or you can wake the fuck up, and start living. your choice.

and he, made three.

such a thoughtful heart for a 6 year old. And I guess I would be held accountable for it, my whole being has been devoted to her since the day I felt her move from within me. From the first moment I knew it was real, she was real. And so, she is a thoughtful, caring and genuine human being. She worries, so I can be held accountable for that as well I'd assume. However, she has a head on those shoulders that will move mountains and for that I'm happy - the strength and devotion in that little mind could conquer a fair bit, I'd think. How am I to know, really? I just watch, and admire. And so she paves the way for the 3 year old, who is always eager and willing to follow in the steps... but won't miss the chance to stray and do it her own way. A fighter in her heart of hearts. So easily distressed, tears pouring while she nervously fights them back - another trait I'll be held accountable for. the nervous tears. and then there is the little one who has found the one thing that ensures I am by his side night and day, and who in their right mind can place blame? Last in pecking order, nurse it for all it's worth. always smiling, though - a generally mellow babe. I'd say I'm lucky, but I'm afraid luck hasn't much to do with it. Lots of lovin and laughin, though.

sharp edge

like walking on glass, holding breath, intense concentration. it's a sad old tale of a grander song, more laughter and less worry. all the great expectation diminishes with the sharp edge of realities. I wonder sometimes if it's ever enough, and I suppose I won't know for many years to come. Who can say? There is no scale to measure life's achievement, or lack thereof. And so I'm left to my own devices - left to the madness of my mind. and what's to be made of such a thing? I suppose there isn't much, or I'd be farther ahead than behind from when I started. Perhaps I am ahead, but mostly it feels like a constant lag. Vocal cords slit, leaving a constant gasping - nothing much to say. Not lack of something to say, more so, lacking the ability. And what's the point if every moment isn't cherished? What is a life of constant bustle, no time to stop and enjoy? It's a damn shame, a waste. And so a resolve would be to walk slower, think simpler, enjoy more and laugh often - but some days (I'm content to say it's not most) it just seems like more energy than I can spare.

running low

Time. Never enough - never when I want (need?) it. So much flowing through this head, so much stuck because there is breakfast to be made, and a screaming 6 month old at my feet who doesn't want to crawl around anymore. So alas, the words will wait - and my mind will be put on hold for another 12 hours. Here's hoping I remember what I was thinking, tonight.

cold, heavy hearts.

It's a feeling of suffocation. Desperation. Hunger for air to fill your lungs. Paralyzed by a life that is gone, a life that had barely begun. I wonder about the thought that brought that life to an end, the finalization of an emotion. A leap of faith. So much sadness, so much anger - and no answers. We will never know, never understand the motives - and we will always hold that within us. I searched the crowd for some sort of connection - some sort of reality. It doesn't even take knowing the life, to miss it. To reevaluate where you are and who you have and put into perspective what a gift breathing really is. It took me back to hating this place - hating having emotions, missing and loving and hurting and grieving. "Everyone has the right to leave on their own terms" but what about everyone left behind? What about us, sitting here in puddles of tears begging for some numbing for the pain? Is it selfish to leave? Or selfish to stay - and wallow in self loathing? Who knows... who cares? Is what it is - and no one will ever understand the motives. We will miss that smile, though.

i've got better things to do than survive,

im teetering between tired, and really really tired - im wiped and im wired, but i guess it's just as well.

it's an ongoing battle of emotion and love and control and i can't help but feel like we're in some kind of fucking pissing contest or tug-of-war. did anyone ever say this was going to be simple? if they did, they were lying. something about the way the water flows leads me to believe that the voyage is going to be a rocky one. and who is that going to benefit in the grand scheme of things? whose going to walk away from it saying it was worth it? i assume, naturally, that it's not easy to adjust and adapt and let it slide - i can't even say it's an easy task for myself to accomplish. but who can be the judge of such a trial? who can sit and say you are right and you are wrong and THIS is the way that things should be done? who can dictate the ebb and flow of the lives in our hands? us. that's it - it's up to us! to make sure that life is as happy, enjoyable and productive that is humanly possible. that the lessons that need to be taught, will be taught - and not only taught, but understood and absorbed. that the imaginations of little humans are encouraged and expressed. that the discipline is just, and warranted. that the fight is minimal, that the resistance wains away after time (because it will, with work). but nothing that comes easy, is worth it. so roll up your sleeves - let go of your reservations, and enjoy this. because these days, will never come back - we will never have this time again. and if a battle is the only path to be taken, it will be battled solo. i will not fight over the roles we have taken on, not wage war against the unity of where we stand. but don't ever think, that i will not be ready and willing to find new ways and explore new territory and try new tactics in union. after all, THAT is what I signed on for.

loss of perspective

Days slip away - and I find I can't remember anyone's name, anymore. The sun crept up on me and I don't think I was expecting it. It stays around long enough that there is no hiding in the dark of night anymore - no solitude of blackness. I wonder sometimes if we'll make it home, if our tireless efforts to make headway on the constant lag will pay off. I'm teetering on the edge of insanity with a smile on my face, because there is no stopping in this race. Still so much to absorb with so little time to really let it set. So much room to grow, but yet it feels like the walls are closing in around me some days. Even now, as I sit and try and regurgitate all that it stuffed inside of my head - I am beckoned and required elsewhere. So little time for this mind of mine, so little time. And so I will go, and this will wait - and days will pass before I realize how much I have to say, how much I need to let it rest and watch it grow.

dressup

being young and dreaming of being grownup. being grown up and wishing you were still young. what were we after? what illusion was presented to us in such a way that we could waste the time we had in front of us? after some fantasy of a place better than this, surely. and i watch the people come and go, play grown up.. trying to get it right. suddenly the blushing bride in a white flowing gown seems absurd if only out of reach. who had time to be a kid when another life was placed in hands held open? not i, said the wolf. there was no time - there never is. big dreams for a little town - big ambitions with only so much rope to hold on to for life support.

teetering between tired - and really really tired.

It's a three steps forward, two steps backwards kind of situation. A repeat yourself until your blue in the face - scream until your voice is hoarse - cry until your dried up like a prune, situation. Be quick to point that being hard-done-by is a job of the hardest kind and life is never easy. No one ever said it would be, did they? Walk with a stride that implies an entitlement of kings and queens. A higher power most of us thirst to get a taste of. But who was appointing hierarchy, and who decided that we could survive this way? Who ever said that the grass was greener just hadn't spent enough time on the other side of the bridge to understand that underneath the lush top layer of green grass is always a lot of dirt. Who ever said that, didn't spend enough time ripping up the grass and planting better things. It doesn't take much to get past the top layer, if that's what your after. I guess a lot of us aren't really after that - though. Just keep migrating to the next green patch until it's worn out and flattened from the weight of our expectations.

on my mind

The fog was thick, so much so, that I could only see a hundred feet ahead of me at a time. The rain started to fall so softly I hardly noticed. The ground was warm and so steam rose around me as the droplets hit the cement. The air smelt sweet which triggered a memory of some years ago, now - a canoe trip, a dreadful one at that. It rained the whole time, and our tent didn't stop the water from leaking to our bags. I felt chilled and damp the entire duration ... but there was a point on the way back, where we were canoeing through a somewhat open spot of the river (lake?) and there was a very strange tree. I remember that the air smelt the same, and there was light rain with fog floating across the water ahead of us. I can remember Mags turning, and cranking her body in an odd position to get a picture of the tree that felt eerily displaced. The air felt the same today, as it did that day - with the strange tree. I remember feeling the same sense of freedom then as I did today, as I walked without watching where my feet took me. I passed places I've been before, streets I remember - but vaguely. I walked long enough in the light rain to clear my head, and regain my grip hold on the day to day. It always catches me by surprise when something small, like the way the air smells or the rain falls, can bring me back to someplace else - to people I miss with all of my being. To kindred spirits who, despite time spent apart, still feel like somewhere I will always find comfort.

lost thoughts

"If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough." - Albert Einstein

I've learned enough to know that I have a lot to learn. Despite our eagerness, our desperate attempts to know what to say and how and when to say it - we very often only have a slight grasp on the knowledge we are trying to portray. I think it takes a great deal to understand that even though you feel like you know a lot, you really know nothing at all. The world is such a big place, full of so many different kinds of people... different languages, foods, habits, rituals - completely unique cultures. I feel like it could easily take a hundred lifetimes to really even begin to have a grasp on the diversity of human diversity.

Hrmm.. I've lost my thought, and nothing seems to be bringing it back to me. Oh well, so much for an insightful piece.

gravity is nothing to me, moving at the speed of sound

My brain is fuzzed, not enough sleep. Not enough restful sleep. It's a hard commodity to come by when your head is fluttering from one extreme to the other, casually ignoring the agony that it's putting you through. I lay awake wondering, feeling like I could have seen it coming. I guess if that were true, if I had some kind of instinct that forewarned me of what was coming, I wouldn't have come this far. It doesn't work that way, and all I can do is learn from each step I take. It's getting harder to find the lessons in between the illusions, though. "You really need to build some supports up to those skies of yours that keep falling" ... I can still hear the tone in your voice, the insecurity in your eyes. 'Is this just another tragic end? Am I doing this again?' I hope that I proved those fears false, and relieved some of the forming pressure on your heart. I've spent a lot of time and invested a lot of sweat, blood and tears into building this castle on this island you see in front of you. To some, it may not be much - but to me, it's my world. Sometimes, here at this castle on this little island, the skies fall - and the fear is driven into me. And I'm going to go ahead and keep building up this castle, do it boldly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOxpvKuEruk

chilled to the bone.

The wind has turned from a sweet spring warmth to a chilling winter blast. My legs feel stiff as I put one in front of the other, a feeling of betrayal crashes through me. I thought we had a deal, mother nature and I. That's what I get for trusting the warmth.. somehow, one way or another, it always disappoints me. I try to be grateful - reap in the benefits of the sun beating down on me, erasing the cold layer that has formed over the last few months. So much for my escape plan - the cold will keep me where I am, for now. Curled up in the same crevice that has been formed by my body during the days that sort of felt like this. Suppose I'll have to be patient, and wait for the wind to die down. Wait for the warmth that goes all the way through.

why I have little faith in humanity.

We are a society full of ignorance. We were raised from the very start to be independent thinkers, and encourage freedom of speech. We grow up knowing that we have the ability to search out the answers to our questions, and that we are encouraged to feel confident in our knowledge. Now, this all sounds lovely - except that for a large portion of human beings, that this way of living has lead them to believe that they know the answer to everything. It has formed a whole common ideal of proving that you are right, and despite the evidence or opinions of feelings that disagree - your thoughts/beliefs/feelings will prevail. This independent thinking will inevitably lead to a barrier between ideas, where we lack to have an open mind to other peoples ideas. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't the rule, nor is it the majority. However, there are enough people out there who live their lives this way that I am left feeling like there are more ignorant, close-minded people out there than my energy is worth to seek the ones who are not out. It's a rarity to find someone in the sea of human minds that can be observant and neutral enough to listen to both sides of the spectrum and remain unbiased. And not only that, but it's a rarity to find someone who won't push their ideas (whether fact or fiction or feeling or belief) with such conviction that you feel like your heads going to explode. I'm so tired of interacting with people who just don't know when to shut the fuck up, and realize they sound like an idiot constantly berating your opinions and condoning their own. When will we just accept that everyone has different ideas, and different opinions - and that despite how you may feel about something, it does not mean that everyone else will share yours? When will we just step back from each others lives and let them make their own decisions without judgment? It really may just boil down to a thrown and a lack of respect, but who am I to judge.

finally see what it means to be living

Too much makeup won't cover the sadness on your face, won't hide the fear you wear. The smile won't fool everyone - despite how many times it's fooled them before. Eventually the reality rises to the surface and it will take you away, sweep you off your feet and leave you defenseless. I can walk the same roads a hundred times, and know it like the back of my hand - but not even a hundred walks down the same road will prepare me for a drunk driver who swerves out of control changing everything in only a few seconds. Life is full of the unexpected - and you will keep missing it with your head in the sand. Who has time to hide? Who has time to pretend? You only have one shot - one chance to experience what is coming at you. Be sad, and cry so hard you shake. Be happy, and laugh so hard it hurts your gut. Wear your life, your experiences, your trials, your errors - let it be who you have become, instead of letting it define who you were. Think about what your doing and put thought into what you say. Explore the world you live in, and embrace the changes that world will bring. Some days you might not be able to get out of bed, some days you won't be able to get into it. But live it honestly, and don't regret a single moment... it's all lead up to now.

for you are wonderfully and fearfully made.

The lead up was torture. Days and days of random 4-5 hour "false labors" and endless natural attempts at inducing labor on our own. It finally came down to discussing with the midwives what our plan was if we got to the 2 week mark - the dreaded hospital induction. We had to go to the labor & delivery ward twice for "non-stress" tests, so we had an idea of what we were in for if that's what it came down too. Laying in that hospital bed, strapped to beeping machines - Tim and I talked about the possibility, the reality... I could see in his eyes that he didn't want this either. I started to feel really defeated - like I was somehow failing myself. How could I go 2 weeks overdue with my third baby? How, after two home births, was I facing my worst fear? I had so many questions, so many insecurities - and it felt like nothing could take me out of the funk. In hindsight, I wonder if my negativity kept my body from doing the work it needed to do. Finally, on Wednesday the 16th we had another NST, a S&S and a ultrasound to make sure the baby was still alright. While I was laying on that bed once again, my "student" midwife came in to see me and check the charts. She could tell I was anxious, she knew this was the polar opposite of what I do. She went over the charts with me, and said something that I believe probably pulled me out of my funk and reinstated my confidence in my body. She said 'all babies are born on their birth days, and not a day sooner' - it was that which made me realize I wasn't "overdue" and that the anxiety that had been built up was derived from numbers on a calendar. Numbers don't determine when a baby is ready, they do. I went to the ultrasound that evening, and was reassured (as I had been, 4 times before) that my baby was fine, that he was a normal size and was in a good position for birth. We went home, humbly reassured. I began having contractions again - and although confident in my body now, I couldn't help the skepticism that overwhelmed me - I let myself believe it was once again another false labor. I ate a big spaghetti dinner that my mum prepared for us and quietly fell into the comfort of my bed, and into a deep sleep. I awoke at 2:43 am (I can still see the numbers on the clock)to a very unkind and strong contraction - one big enough to make me moan. I breathed through it, laid quietly and decided to get up and pee. Once on the toilet, another one hit me like a boulder - and so I once again breathed through it, but I was now growing a bit curious. I went back and forth from the bed to the bathroom two more times, breathing through strong contractions - and it was the third time in the bathroom that I finally hollered to Tim "wake up! turn on the lights - this is it!!" It was 3:30 by this point, but that was the last time I looked at the clock until hours after it was all said and done. I did the routine calls - took the appropriate actions of lighting candles and Tim started to blow up the pool. My team filed in one by one, each more amazed at the strength of my labor then the last. I knew it was going to be fast, I just kept repeating 'this is going to be too quick'. The pool was filling up when we ran out of hot water - so my mum and Lindsey decided to start boiling pots on the stove to keep it warm. I got in as soon as I could, and didn't leave. Emma and Sophie woke up at some point, and jumped into the pool with me. Both of them were cautious, and concerned - but they were so strong and so supportive. I wonder if they will remember it when they are all grown? After two or so hours had passed, it was pointed out to me that no midwife had come yet. Unconcerned, I motioned Tim to get a hold of them a let them know this baby would be here soon. Little did I know that because of confusion, I would have an unassisted birth. The water was my solace, I let it guide me through the contractions and hold me when I rested between them. The contractions were hard, strong and on top of each other - it was so fast, that there was no lead up to the transition. Afterward, Kayeleigh told me that when I started to "give up" she thought to herself... 'she can't be at this point yet, it's only been an hour or two - she's stronger than that' (little did she know, that I was indeed already at that point and only shortly after that would we meet Liam). Then it hit me, I could feel the change happen - and I looked at Tim and told him I wanted to push. For some reason though, I held it. I wouldn't release the pressure - I kept fighting the urges, even though I recognized them and knew what I had to do. Minutes later the midwife walked in the door - and while she busied herself in the living room getting her unneeded gear .. I pushed. It took one long hard push and I reached down into the water and felt the head. I didn't wait for another contraction, I knew I didn't need too - I just kept pushing and guided his head and body into my arms and out of the water. Nobody really knew what I was doing - it was almost like "oh look, she had the baby!" My mum was in the basement, the girls and my sister were in the bedroom - Tim was standing directly in front of me.. and everyone ran into the kitchen with tears in their eyes. My mind has already fuzzed out the details, and I can't remember who said what - or what anyone's reaction was... other than mine and Tim's. Liam let out a cry as soon as he emerged from the water - so I was confident he could breath. When I looked down though, I could see he was wrapped in his cord at least 4 times - and so without a thought, I flipped him over and unwrapped him from his lifeline that had aided him through the first 9 months of his being. I think there must have been a dense layer of chaos for everyone else in the room - but I didn't notice. He was here, he was in my arms - nothing else could even puncture my high. The minutes after that went quickly - Tim cut the cord, the girls gazed at him in wonder and there were tears of joy. It was a whole 3 hours from start (when I decided it was really happening at 3:30) until Liam was born at 6:26 am on Thursday, February 17th. He was a plump 8Lbs 5 ounces, with wonderfully long pianist fingers and dark, intense eyes. It doesn't feel so long ago, but at the same time it feels like it happened a life time before this.