One Woman Army

Choice and loss

Just as I would always support a woman in her choice to not have a child, I support those who choose to have children.

And so for them, I am saddened beyond words when their choice does not work out.

Tonight I am mourning for a family member and his wife, who had made the decision to have children, were pregnant, and today found out they had lost their baby 3 months into the pregnancy.

This was a child that was bringing so much joy into my family, I cannot express... The first of a new generation, I myself had already bought a little "Free Newfoundland" onesie to send along with little gifts for the mother-to-be. I am grateful only that I had not yet sent them in the mail, for that extra reminder of a person who was not meant to be.

I am without any more words now as I try to distract myself and think of my family in their pain, so very far away on the other side of the country.

- Artemis.

When our pasts haunt us...

It has been some time since I've been here. Summer has been filled with too many projects to handle, as the workaholic in me just can't say no to anything. I miss my writing, and I know it misses me.

Last week my past came in full blast to haunt me. A ghost from my past, a person who I hadn't seen in over 6 years, back in my life.

It's hard to believe only a week has passed now since I saw him again.

I write here, instead of on my other, more public blog, because I can't risk him knowing how he still affects me. How he once affected me, and obviously still does.

This person broke my heart 6 years ago. I was emotionally so over the moon for him. I would've picked up and talked about moving provinces to be with him, to have a chance to be with him, because I was utterly and absolutely positive that he might be the one.

He on the other hand, was too terrified, too scared to take that leap. And so instead, our communication ended, and this person who I had completely and utterly given my heart to, was out of my life.

I knew that if, in a year, he came back and wanted to try again, I would. And the wiser part of me looked at the lovesick me with pity for not being wiser, for being gullible, for believing he might ever change.

***

6 years later, he's back in my life. Married now, but separated. A huge batch of problems. Whether or not he's telling me the truth is another story.

But within a matter of minutes of seeing him again, all of the anger for how he treated me rushed out of my heart and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to spend an afternoon with him, to talk to him, to look at him and listen to him and laugh with him.

What I ask myself now, is this: am I feeling so mixed up and emotional because I still have feelings for him, because there is still something lingering between us? Or is it just that I'm missing the idea of what could've been?

Either case, I'm doing a serious case of punishing myself. I'm in danger of falling off a cliff all over again, whichever reason I'm feeling this way.

No good can come of this.

I know this.

The wise part of me is saying, block him, don't talk to him, don't think about him. This is a bad situation. He's in a different province, so far from me. That allows me to put him aside, to try to forget, to put emotional as well as physical distance between us.

The other part of me is wishing he would get in touch again. Because one afternoon didn't feel like it was enough.

Danger, Will Robinson, danger.

- artemis.

   

Just ASK me how I am.

"Yes I think I'm okay    I walked into the door again    Well, if you ask that's what I'll say    And it's not your business anyway    I guess I'd like to be alone    With nothing broken, nothing thrown.

Just don't ask me how I am.
Just don't ask me how I am." - Luka, by Suzanne Vega

Why all the silence?
I really don't understand it.
We live in a culture of silence. It breeds it. Its in the air. It's a climate where we're unable to share, unable to talk, unable to take a stand.

And it's leaving us helpless.
It's leaving my sisters in pain, alone, hurting, unable to heal because we're unable to share.

I wrote before about bearing witness.
About creating a community of healing.
In my thesis I explore the idea of bearing witness. I want to know how we allow ourselves to tell our stories. How we allow others to hear them. What do we choose to reveal and how?

How do we re-write our stories, to our self?

What are we able to admit?

What are we able to say to "it wasn't my fault"?

Can we ever say that?

***
Here's what I know:

I tell my story.
Another woman says "that happened to me". She shares her story. She realizes she's not alone. I realize I'm not alone.

Then someone else steps in, and tells her story. Now we have a community. And then someone else comes and says "that also happened to me." or "I had a similar experience".

"I was raped".
"I was drugged at that bar too"
"I went to the police"
"I was molested"
"He hit me"
"I didn't want to"
"I thought I was alone"

Soon it's a community of healing. A community of stories. Soon we're taking back our power. Soon it's not just my pain, or your pain, but its our pain.

***

This is what I know.
No more silence.
The system might not always work for us. God knows I've regretted and even wondered if I should send someone to the police. I've regretted going myself. And yet... I didn't. It meant I took a step. I told what happened. And when that didn't work, I keep talking.

I tell my students in my TA class.
I tell my coworkers.
I tell my fellow classmates.
I tell my family.

And then they tell me their stories.

I am not alone.

This is how I fight violence. This is how I raise awareness against sexual violence. If there's no awareness, how can we stop it?

- Artemis.

On My Lips the Words Turn Blue

The mood of these absent weeks...

"are there no blinders on lights that glare white noise on the eyes from gas station lights and reflected ice glare so that i can walk home by moonlight alone or can we go out to where the wind howls and stand to lean up against the trees they've grown up so tall that you can't see the house it's a fortress now but you know how it used to be i can lie to myself and say i like it but i would love it if you were here these words on paper smell like you associated in random thought on my lips the words turn blue evidence i'm feeling lost i can lie to myself and say i like it but i would love it if you were here i'm just sad for myself cause i know you're clear but i would love it if you were here i can just see you show me your garden i thought you'd grow roses and grapes on low vines i wanted to know you when we were both older i thought there'd be more of those wonderful times i can lie to myslef and say i like it but i would love it if you were here i'm just sad for myself cause i know you're clear but i would love it if you were here you were here yes you were yes you were" - Sarah Harmer, "You Were Here"

Uniform Grey

“You don’t do what I want you to…
But I haven’t been through all you’ve been through.
And we could use that as an excuse,
If that’s what you choose…
If that’s what you choose…”
- Sarah Harmer, Uniform Grey

It’s been over a year since I first met him.

This person, this soul, who continues to haunt me. A year later, and he’s still in my soul.

Unrequited, I can’t help but think. It saves me to think that he doesn’t feel the same way that I do. To believe that it’s all one-sided, to believe that there is no hope. No time wasted between us, now or in the future. To believe there is no hope, saves me from believing that there is hope.

A year later, and I’m in the same boat. Our story began as friends, an instant connection, one that is instantly recognizable. The spark that you read about in the movies. Blue eyes gazing into mine, penetrating eyes that see into my soul, read my very thoughts. Read eachother’s thoughts. It terrified me, terrified him. And he with all his baggage (who hasn’t got baggage?), backed off. Friends only. And I respected that.

Over a year later, and nothing has changed. Our friendship has deepened. He is my best friend, my family. I think I’m happy with that, and maybe I am. Most of the time. But then, in bar bathrooms on New Year’s Eve, on drunken Saturday nights, at drunken parties, in moments of inebriated bluntness, I always spill it out. The frustration, the pain, the longing. I think it’s gone, but it’s just festering.

Others who know us both tell me he feels the same as me. That we’re both held back by our own stupidity. That I’ve given him too much space. I can’t let myself believe it.

I like being alone. I push people away, I seem to choose people to be in my life who always leave, who have baggage, who are unable to love back. I like the loneliness.

Today, I opened up one of my favourite sites, PostSecret, and a postcard jumped out at me. Someone’s secret.

“I will lose her if I don’t tell her how I feel.
I will lose her if I do tell her how I feel.”

I’ve stared at this postcard throughout the day. Reopened it in my browser again and again. Scrutinized the writing, hoping that it was sent by him.

This secret, could be his.

It feels like mine.

The words ate into me. I understood them entirely.

Just when I think I’m over him, that I’m satisfied with our friendship, little things like this creep in under my skin. Into my heart.

Over a year later, still nothing.

New Year's questions from a woman on the run

"Perfection is static, and I am a work in full motion." - Anais Nin

It’s a New Year, a new day. Who am I? I’m still trying to figure that out.

This year was my first Christmas away from “home”. I’ve made a new home for myself over the past three years, with people to now call my family. I rarely missed the place I once called home, and yet… I can’t help but wonder how long this place, this space I’ve made for myself on the tip of the rock, will remain my home.

What forces will push me forward? Will I have the courage to make certain choices, to move in certain directions?

Leaving terrifies me. People leaving terrifies me.

One of the persons who I’ve come to call a friend, part of my new family, might leave in the next few months. Forces outside of me, outside of him, might push him away, might take him on a new path. I am a firm believer in following your heart to a place that calls it - but I can’t help but feel that my heart is slowly unravelling at the thought of yet another person in my life leaving.

In a year from now, will he still be here?

Will I still be here?

I’ve been alone for so long. I crave my space, love my loneliness. I push people away, and I’ll admit that I like it. I like the pain that it causes me. I like the solitary sadness that eats away at me. I long for more, but I can’t seem to make myself accept more.

In a year from now, will I still be alone?

“Perfection is static, and I am a work in full motion.” - Anais Nin

Happy New Year.  -Artemis