Monday, November 25, 2013

Russian Dolls

I have no idea where to start. My life has been a cluster -fuck for the past 3 years. I have been manically working towards some sort of stable career and this want to express something creative has been aching inside of me; begging me to find an outlet. I have been burying it away in hopes it will rise up one day, kick me in the face and yell "Kate, the FUCK are you doing? LET ME OUT!"    
    And so here I am, back at it and diving deep into the depths of my tipsy mind for an appropriate way to begin apologizing to myself. fuck. sorry.  :/  

Since I know there are few if any readers, the best place to start is where I left off: The Baseball player.

I will re-upload some of my favourite blogs in hopes of catching you up to speed. But first things first: I thought M was the unquestionable love of my life that I waited a sweet 24 yrs for. He fell hard and fast for me, and once that happened, I needed to act how Jane Austen would describe an "elegant lady" in Pride and Prejudice and deny myself. I needed to wait and wait,  and fucking WAIT to tell him that I felt the same. God damn that was a mistake! Next time, if you feel it, you need to say it. Because shit can take a nasty turn if you hold out for intense feelings to build up to the point of no return. Where infatuation turns into lust, and lust into love, and love turns out to be this whole fucking lie of the constant need to be alongside that significant other just so you might not feel lonely for the next few hours. And then THAT, whatever that is, becomes this silent treatment where no real sentiments are spoken, and instead you just fuck each other and forget the fear of destroying something that has become so fragile that one person is just praying for the easiest way out. yea. that.

Fast forward late summer of 2012, M had opted out of our relationship in need of searching for self-happiness. He was going through a deep depression the majority of our time together and it was not easy coming to terms with the idea that HE DID NOT WANT ME THERE FOR HIM.     I always thought thats what you did for people you love. You stick it out with them through the good times, and the bad.   NOT, obviously, if they didn't want you to.

SO, here I am. A year later, getting tipsy on a vodka, blue curacao, lime and soda mix in my own apartment expecting amazing stories and the perfect words to come to me.  How am I doing so far?

This past year has been a whirlwind of career advancements, deaths in the family, new loves found and a fairly feeble first attempt of venturing out into the city on my own. (I only live in Burnaby, it is close to work, and a fair amount cheaper in rent that places closer to downtown Vancouver.)

I could tell you that the first 3 months without M,....fuck it, his name was MIKE! The first 3 months when he left, and he left cold turkey: as in not even a call, or any follow up text messages checking in. It went from seeing him near every day for the past 2.5 yrs to nothing. nadda. C'est fucking finit. I felt like the whole world could never possibly understand and that this whole in my heart would never heal.
                            I took me a good 2 months to stop crying every day, during which I trained for my first half marathon just to feel good about SOMETHING.  I joined my Grandmothers choir for the second year in a row, she couldn't sing for Christmas due to a stroke in November of last year. Her steep decline was at its peak by January with consistent battles of infection, and then her eventual degeneration by the beginning of March 2013. She had attempted hand writing a "Happy Birthday" sentiment on the card my Papa gave me which ended up looking like a toddlers meaningless blurb of squiggles. She had lost most motor skills by the time I turned 27 on the 27th of February. It was not really a great time for any sort of celebration and yet I managed two of my best friends over for a drink and a heartfelt ushering into my 27th year of life.

My Baba passed away March 11 2013, and I have never quite come to terms with it. She was truly, the only person who understood why I studied music and supported me in every way she could. I'm not upset that she's gone, she fought hard against two different types of cancers the majority of her life and I am very happy for her that her body had not let her linger in such a state that quality of life was seriously obsolete.    I will miss her.

'Till next time.

XOXO, Kate


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