Cat Skinner Club

Chrysalis, Day Twenty-Eight

DISCLAIMER:

Adventures in Schnooville is my personal space on the Internet. If you’re here, it’s either because I’ve invited you in, or you happened by and I decided to leave the door open.

Are you hearing me? This space is mine. For me. Please don’t forget that for a second. All of the thoughts, dreams, hopes, fears, and frustrations expressed here are my unique perspective on my very own unique life.

If you see yourself reflected here, if you discover experiences that are similar to your own, if you can relate, then I am of course delighted. That’s rather the point, isn’t it? We are compelled to write to combat feelings of solitude and isolation, and we are compelled to read to discover common themes and threads that tie all of us together. It makes me happy to know that for some of you, reading about my personal journey has made yours a little less lonely. If I do nothing else in my life, I think that’s a very fine thing.

If you know me beyond the realms of the internet, if you know a little bit about my life and the players therein, you are sharing even more of my personal experience, and if you’re reading this, then you ought to honor that. It’s rather like I left my journal open on your coffee table, isn’t it? On purpose. This is where I walk through my emotions, and here you are, sharing that with me. If it upsets you to read this, then walk away. Don’t read. Cancel your subscription, un-friend me on Facebook, delete me from your news feed, or take a break and come back some other time. I’m not writing for you, and I never will be. Commenting on the emotions I am expressing is futile because I can and will continue to express what I am feeling here. Always with as much sensitivity as I can muster, but as long as I’m here, I’ll be writing here.

I think you will find that if you give yourself a week, and then come back and re-read whatever upset you, it will be a very different experience. Or perhaps not. Whatever the case, it’s your responsibility to deal with how my emotions might be making you feel if you chose to read these pages.

Comments of reflection, relation, sensitivity, encouragement, sharing, and inspiration are always welcome here in Schnooville. Harsh criticism, judgment, and hurt are not. Start your own blog.

Finally, I would like to say that nearly a month in this chrysalis has given me a keen look at what it is like to be one of those people who absolutely dread this time of the year. For you, every year beyond this one, I give a little slice of my heart. I’m not sure if it’s the cold and snow, or if it’s the result of carefully planned propaganda, but this time of year wants sad and lonely people to hurt more than ever, and that’s just wrong.

Here is the challenge I throw down – make a list of everything in your life, right now, that offers you a consistent sense of warmth. Notice I didn’t say people? People are not so constant, but I can bet a warm mug of tea (with a nip of scotch perhaps) is always a little bit of comfort. If you have even one constant person who can be counted on for warmth, even if you don’t know them well, add them to your list. Warmth is warmth when it’s especially cold.

A whole month has passed almost since my life began to change shape again.

Last year, at this time, I knew it would be the last Christmas that I found myself in the circumstances I was in. I didn’t predict this change of course, and within the many layers of pain and sadness is a layer of unexpected surprise. A change of course that illuminates, and offers hope in the power of love. Hope that I have always held hidden beneath my layers of fear and cynicism. Now this hope has a face, and a name. It is real, and I will hold it close to my heart and recognize it over and over again each day.

There will be no fresh start because life continues moving forward. If you keep moving with it, your landscape will always change. In these dark winter months, the light at the end of the tunnel is impossible to see, but as spring waits tucked around the corner like a blushing virgin, so too is the light hidden away, waiting for the moment of revelation.

I raise a mug of warm scotch to you, and remind you that you’re not ever really alone.

Chrysalis, Day Fourteen

Two weeks in this strange space where life has come to feel like a bad dream. Some things just simply won’t be possible, and living in a pressure cooker is one of those things. I cannot take care of everyone anymore, and I no longer intend to exhaust myself trying.

I sat silent at the top of the stairs last night, and heard everything. In that everything were all the things I ever needed to hear, and anything I ever needed to know.

We have all created this. We are all responsible for our reality. We must own and understand our contributions, and accept change, or we will never be able to move forward.

The only thing I can control is my own heart, and my heart is clear and true, and steadfast in her resolve. I know where I belong, and I have no fear about my ability to embrace this and remain loyal to this decision.

Each day I pray for a healthier alternative to this toxic state. There is too much anger here for any growth or healing to be possible.

Chrysalis, Day Nine

I remain at home, which is at once familiar and strange. Would that I could share the intricacies of my unique situation here with you all, but I simply cannot be so candid. Let us say that we are in transition, and I have no idea what any of this will lead to.

My emotions are a mixture of many things, and I try to temper them all with compassion and patience, neither of which have come easily to me until now. Something has melted away in me, some deep anger that was never really mine. A black seed that someone else planted in my heart. In these last two months, I was able to pull it out by its roots and the change I feel is remarkable. In time, everyone else will see it, and believe in it too.

It is difficult to imagine the other side of this space in time. Everything I hoped it would become feels out of my hands. All I can do is maintain my desire to show love and grace in what are perhaps the most challenging circumstances I’ve ever existed in.

These days feel like a test. All of the growing and learning I have done has brought me to this moment, and I am being called to rely on the things I have learned about myself, and the lessons I continue to learn with each passing day.

I must believe in the power of love.

I must believe in my own honesty and understanding of self.

I must believe in the depth of my strength.

I must have faith that we are being guided through this by something greater than all of us.

I must trust in the people that I love.

I must draw power from my incredible ability to be a parent.

I must realize that I cannot always have control.

I must be patient, in as many ways as I can.

Tonight I made dinner. Something new, and comforting. The house is still filled with rich cooking smells. It felt good to be busy – to offer a gesture of warmth and kindness. To have an elaborate distraction from the tension and the sadness here.

Chrysalis, Day Five

I didn’t sleep very much last night. When I did, I had an intensely vivid dream. I was laying on a slab in a very dimly lit room. My blood was being transfused, fresh blood pumping through me by a machine. Several of my friends (work friends mostly) gathered around lovingly. They were so tender and caring. They kept bestowing gifts upon me, strange gifts – the power to predict the weather, the power to smell things like an animal would, the ability to see in the dark. In exchange for these gifts, they were draining my blood and drinking it from ancient goblets. As the dream formulated, I was at first confused and disoriented, then comforted by their tender ministrations, then completely terrified when I realized what was actually happening to me. I gasped awake, making a point to remember this dream upon waking.

Day five is an entirely unknown entity. I begin this post in the morning hours, while the city is cold and grey. I’m about to take Molly the dog on a walk through the cemetery. Later I will return to my home (can I call it that in this place of limbo?) and steal a few quiet working hours there. My sadness is as thick as the fog that wrapped us all in mystery last night.

11:30 am

My walk with Molly the dog proved to be a therapeutic respite. The cemetery is so pretty, particularly at this time of the year. She’s a great dog, always full of smiles.

I get on the TTC to journey towards the house.  A girl in a maroon sweatshirt waits for the bus. I notice her because I notice everybody. My earphones are plugged into my head, creating a bubble filled with sweeping, melancholic music. I mindlessly drift from the bus to the subway and ride the train studying the faces of strangers.

At Pape station, a young man gets on. He is the very same young man I saw yesterday at Starbucks, speaking to the Christians. He doesn’t recognize me. These serendipitous moments are common for me. I’m always struck by them, and I wonder if there is some greater meaning. I transfer at St. George Station. The girl in the Maroon sweater is standing on the platform waiting for the Northbound train. The same train I’m about to get on. The young man waits for it too.

Now I sit in our local coffee shop waiting to come into my home. The sun is streaming in the windows and the tables are filled with people reading newspapers and books, or typing away at their laptops, or having laughter-speckled conversation. The coffee barista tries to be cute by playing a little game of tug-of-war with my receipt. His overly-familiar gesture annoys me a little. I’ve never seen him before. I smile indulgently all the same. I might as well make someone happy today, even if that someone is a stranger.

I want to go back to Hamilton. It’s easier to be away from my home when I’m far away from my home. As I move through my appointments and obligations in the city, my former life dangles before me like something in a dream that I cannot grasp no matter how hard I try.

11:22 pm

I’m home. In my house. I’m sleeping here tonight. We are able to share the space with such grace and love that I am amazed, and moved by how we can still take care of each other. I feel hopeful for our future as a family. We have an early start at some family time together tomorrow, and I’ve put in a full day of work. I feel a strange sense of peace. Despite the pain, we are still together, trying to work through to a place of deeper understanding. I won’t take this for granted. I know that today was possible because of some perfect storm of timing and temperament. Tomorrow will be different, and I should have no assumptions. All I can do is continue to keep my heart open, and true, and strive always for love and patience.

I’m very, very grateful for today.

Chrysalis, Day Four (Evening)

I believe that the feeling I had earlier taken for hope was in fact something akin to the calm before the storm. I am so, so sad because this place we are moving through is so strange and scary, and there is so much pain.

I wish I could peel back my layers of flesh and finger-like ribcage so that my heart, uncovered by mortal stuff, could be seen. How I have loved and continue to love. I have so much love still to give, and I know I can be great at giving it.

The great tragedy, of course, is that I cannot give it the way it is most desired, and how I wish this were different. If I could grant happiness to everyone I loved, I would, but I am aware of my limitations and my capacity, and after thirty-four years of this heart, I understand well how it works. It is far from perfect.

So I will say it, without fear. I love you. I will continue to love you.  I have told you with my very soul how my love for you evolves, and how it can be realized.  We are family, you are in my heart, and I truly, deeply hope that you can hear me.

dive for dreams

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.

silently if, out of not knowable

silently if, out of not knowable
night’s utmost nothing,wanders a little guess
(only which is this world)more my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if(spiralling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,i find
selves unimaginably mine;beyond
sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:
yours is the darkness of my soul’s return
-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

– e.e. cummings