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Monday 23 December 2019

2019...

I've  been itching to write something over the past few days but it's hard to get my thoughts together to form something coherent. So, coherent or not, I'm forcing myself to sit here and write something.

2019 - My 'Year of Rejection'

It's not that I set out on some me mental quest to be rejected because... who in their right mind would actually do that!? It's more that I tried to let go of the fear of being rejected and it's been interesting.

"Sure, what harm?" became a motto I lived by and, you know what, it didn't go so badly.

I auditioned for two plays not believing I would get a part in either and was cast. I asked for a promotion in work and got the job. Very last minute, I decided to apply to the Scene+Heard festival with a draft script and was selected.

I'm sitting here trying to remember the no's but they're not coming to mind which is no doubt a bad thing. Focus on the positive, they (whoever they are) say.

At one point during the Summer, and egged on by some friends, I gave a random guy in a Caffe Nero my phone number.

"Hello, this is my year of rejection so here's my number. You can throw it away if you like."

He looked confused (which was an acceptable reaction to have, to be fair) and I would love to tell you that I sauntered away all sexy and mysterious but I actually tripped over a chair on the way out and walked in the wrong direction when I left the cafe so he got to witness my attempt to scramble by again without him seeing me.

Smooth....

It was the most awkward thing I've ever done (and at the time I didn't realise that I had eyeliner running down my face...). He texted a couple of weeks later to tell me I had intrigued him but he was in fact gay. Ah well, huzzah and whatnot for new friends.

It's been a strange year. I feel like I've spent the whole time in a whirlwind with the days and months flying by and blending into one another.

I've treated myself pretty badly in terms of how I've been dealing with grief. All it takes is a song (or that one glass of wine too many) and I'm right back in 2018 with all of my insides being crushed by the sense of loss. I still don't quite know how to talk about things properly so I always revert to dark humour to deal with questions and conversations. "Did I tell you that I had to sign a form to confirm that I knew cremation was irreversible?", etc.

But, hey, against the odds, I'm still fighting and dreaming.

One of the most precious things that came out of last year was finding out my father wrote poetry too and I was gifted his writings. It's given me the confidence to actually put it out there that I write poetry. It may not be good but it is mine.

I was at a dinner the other evening with some dear friends and after many rounds of 'Never have I ever...', we focused on answering three questions.

What are you grateful for this year?
What do you want to leave behind?
What are you hopeful for in the year to come?

Short questions but answers have been swirling round in my head since they were asked.

What are you grateful for this year?
I am grateful for my weird-as-heck daughter who never fails to make me laugh, for my mom, Julie, who since she came into my life has always been my rock, my brother who refuses to say I love you back and responds with "Talk to ya later, horse", my aunts and uncles and cousins who have gone out of their way to show just how much they care.

I am grateful for all of the people I am lucky enough to call my friends. Even when I feel like I am all alone they are always there to text back, answer the phone, go for 6am walks in the rain, and dance to ridiculous stripper music.

In short the people in my life. That is what I am grateful for.

What do you want to leave behind?
This is a tougher question...

It's very rare that I leave anything behind... even I probably should... but these are the things, the events that have brought me where I am and to who I am today.

If I had to choose one thing though, it would be the overwhelming anger I feel at just how unfair life is. Small ask, right?

What are you hopeful for in the year to come?
I have a clear vision of where I want to finish out 2020, the clearest vision of my future that I've ever had (well, apart from when I was 12 and was sure I was going to marry Leonardo di Caprio).

Not quite ready to share yet but if there is one thing I've learned about myself over the years, it's that if I really want something and put my mind to it, I will get there.

So, watch this space.

Anyway, I'm going to stop writing now because this is becoming a whole lot of bleh and I've realised that I'm sitting here listening to Cary Rae Jepson long after my daughter has vacated the apartment...

Roll on 2020's friendships, words, shows, festivals, and adventures!

Wednesday 11 December 2019

'Emily', performed 2014

With her a constant smile and laugh, it was hard to believe that Emily had problems.  She hid it from everyone which wasn’t difficult as she had spent her whole life hiding things.

When she was five, she had hidden that she was the one who had left the door open allowing the cat to make a break for freedom.

When she was ten, she had hidden that she had failed in her math test because she simply couldn’t understand when she would ever actually need math.

When she was fifteen, she had hidden that she had lost her virginity to a boy behind the school bike shed. He promised her the world but she never saw him again.

When she was eighteen, she had hidden the fact that she never had wanted to study finance in college. She had wanted to be a writer.

And so you see, hiding things from people was never a problem for her.

It became a way of life. With her friends, she smiled and joked but on the inside, her core was rotting with every day that dawned.

She couldn’t pinpoint when she had started to feel this way. It was like that darkness had always been there. The constant feeling of not being good enough, tarnishing and marring her.

Cutting seemed to lessen the pain. Always subtle but always deep. Depending on how bad the day had been determined how deep the cut would be. It was her way of penance. Her way of saying “sorry”.

Nightly she would take out the silver, blunt letter opener to say her prayers. The pressure she put on her thigh reduced the pressure on her soul.

Nightly, she would apologise for sins that she had never committed.

And nightly, she would get her brief moment of release.

Emily knew of no other way to cope. The last thing that she had wanted was to become a burden for anyone and so, in this respect, she had taken a solemn vow of silence.

On good days, she would call one of the many who desired her.

So beautiful on the outside, one was always available. She would be their instrument to play and each time, they created the most beautiful song together. For those brief moments, there was a glimmer of hope.

She felt so close to being alive during midnight trysts. The darkness seemed so far away, almost as if it didn’t exist and her world would be filled with a light. But no matter how she tried, the light faded as soon as she tried to reach it.

As soon as the light was gone, she found herself passing her visitor their things and saying ‘Thank you’.

No mention of staying. No mention of tomorrow. The transaction had been completed and yet again, it had not worked.
Years passed and Emily existed.

Her penance was no longer enough.

The night enveloped her and embraced her to its bosom and she welcomed it as one welcomes a lover to their bed. After all, the darkness had been her only true friend for all these years. It knew her better than anyone else ever could.

No words of goodbye.

No words of comfort.

Nothing.

She was found with a smile on her face as if to say her only regret had been that she hadn’t welcomed the dark sooner.