Monday, November 8, 2010

This bitch needs another vacation.


Alright...which version are we going with candy-coated or naked-blistered-and-not-so-shiny? Yeah, we all know how much I love candy, but this is the real shit.


So, let's just break it open shall we? Honestly....

I'm sad.


.....Achingly, horrendously, "look at that poor sad girl order a latte and pensively stare out a window for seven hours," kind of sad. I wake up and I hurt....I ooze "sad."

The last few weeks have presented me with a smorgasbord of "new," of "exciting" and busy...."tapped out" and packed. There's been a literal itinerary, a lot of hand-shaking, a lot of Googling, "where to find the best piece of Cake in Vancouver?" I've kept my suitcase filled to the brim with potential outfits to make me look better than I FEEL. It's an email exchange here, a new friend, a new connection, a budding romance- hours spent drinking cappuccinos out of what I would consider to be a small cereal bowl, (instead of a cup, because caffeine is the most legal/cheap option to be addicted to) and finding solace in the emptiness of pristine porcelain dish that once housed the most beautiful lemon tart any human being has laid eyes upon. Sweet life right? I've considered lying about the actual facts in an attempt to not sound like an ungrateful asshole- but it turns out gratitude and sadness are allowed to attend the same shin-dig.

I'm overcompensating. Overindulging. Inducing exhaustion and morsel by tiny morsel shoving all the unsatisfactory parts into a suitcase stored waaaay behind all the "happy."
You know what happens to that suitcase? Yeah, eventually it gets full. And the sad stuff now has a stench, a pungent, musty, undeniable musk....grim is now festering on things that have now given life to other equally dark "things."

Sad is only patient for so long, until it becomes a heinous village of tiny monsters feeding off of other tiny monsters, until it's one unforgiving motherfucker of a Monster Army who want to eat your children. Or your sanity. Or whatever the fuck you have left. Perhaps your teenage sisters Halloween candy (and then the pillow case is empty and you're like. FML now I have to go find a pillow, so I can sleep this shit off-since actual exercise is for the ambitious and "sadness" isn't exactly the most athletic emotion.)

While I was standing near the edge of Sutro Baths in San Franciso, reminding myself to BREATHE, to take in the ocean and the sound, the time and the perfection of the company I was with and the opportunities I had, I said- "I never really remember to take a deep breath....." then, one of my best friend's boyfriends (whose name happens to be James Bond) said,

"Ya know, it's actually the EXHALE that really matters. It's the letting go."

Ah.....yes, to breathe with intention and feel it from beginning to end, until your shoulders have settled away from your ears and you feel just a bit lighter, even for a second, hm. Let's try that one out?

Alright. I'm going to exhale the sad. And let go. I'm going to loosen the grip. I'm going to take my heart and feel it in my hands, the calloused skin, the slippery parts and the ridges, the hollowness and like a warrior sacrificing a part of herself in utter devotion to some CELESTIAL, divine beings, I'm going to raise my heart above my head and ceremoniously with a solid bellow from the belly of my Wild Child, I'm going to strike it against the edge of something sharp and unyielding and I'm going to let it bleed. I'm going to let my heart empty and when it's bled out, when the leeches have done their work, when the suitcase is now empty....I'm going to take a deep breathe and EXHALE.

I'm going to to exhale the nostalgia of the holidays- I'm going to exhale when I remember my birthday is around the corner and this time around, no one is writing me a song. I'm going to exhale when the birthday cake tastes a little less sweet. I'm going to exhale before my feet touch the ground when I wake up sad and I'm going to demand a better "reset" button and perhaps a few more hours of rest.

I'm going to exhale when "any day now..." is the motto of a week, a month, five months, (but not that I'm counting....)

I'm going to exhale when my little monsters say, "Hey babe, you aren't choosing this...but he IS."

And I'm going to exhale when I look in the mirror and that wrist tattoo that says "Shine" looks a little bit more faded than usual.


When my friends plan moving in with their boyfriends and I remember how I felt that same excitement once; exhale. When your house doesn't feel like a home because you can't find a second to spend there, mostly because you don't want to spend a second alone; exhale. When you're leaving someone behind at the airport who makes you smile; exhale. When you look in the mirror and you don't look like YOU, but you look like a worn, exhausted, fucked up version of you; exhale (and maybe tell your self esteem to kick her Sasha Fierce ass into gear, bitch doesn't get a vacation.) When you can't bring yourself to eat anything but granola bars and string cheese; EXHALE.


When your heart is HURTING, take a breath and EXHALE. That's where all the growing comes from...or so they say......



Are you BREATHING with intention???
























 
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