Scarborough sunset...

Well, just when I thought wonders would never cease, I went jogging. Yup, me. Strangely it didn’t start snowing yesterday afternoon although I was pretty sure I might cough up  lungfuls of blood 5 minutes into the whole exercise. I tried hard to break the nasty old pattern of pushing myself like a SS Kamp Kommandant which roughly translates to: quite a bit of walking interspersed with more active bursts of ‘running’. I finally hit some sort of stride on the way home, with Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard’s Now We Are Free from Gladiator in my ears, a setting sun and rolling ocean before my eyes. It felt good to be on the road! And I realized a couple of things:

1. I’d like to date a man like Maximus. A brave, strong leader who exhibits integrity, honour and courage (you can keep the war part however: been there, done that. My desire for men with a lust for blood is zip, zero – nil)
2. Weak men are afraid of powerful woman and will systematically attempt to break them down to something more ‘manageable’ in order to feel strong. Real strength resides with people who encourage others to shine, realize their full potential, who seek to build instead of break.
3. We are turnkeys for one another in this magical journey called life. One reader wrote yesterday to say how much a post had meant to her, how my struggle had helped empower her. I felt blessed – this is why writers write! Books have often granted me strength and hope when I felt most desolate and lost, other writers have inspired me to view things differently. I believe as each of us evolves to live and speak our truth, we make it possible for others to do the same. We all struggle with our human stain, with issues of love, loss, self worth, survival. And we’re in this together – we need to be there for one another, even if it’s only in silent acknowledgment of another’s battle (a book I found especially meaningful during the challenge of dealing with the demise of Dax and I was ‘in the meantime’ by Iyanla Vanzant)
4. As we start to embrace and celebrate our innate worth, we begin listening to that wise voice within which will guide us to make life affirming, self sustaining and ultimately more loving decisions and choices. The more we value, love and respect ourselves, the more we’ll surround ourselves with people who will do the same.

my wing'd heart...

I kept on running past my street and down to the beach. I took off my shoes, singing quietly to the random (but oh!so! meaningful) soundtrack from my iPod. As I danced along the shoreline, my spirit filled with a joyous sense of expectation – some beautiful man out there who’s been waiting patiently for me to get my sh*t together so we could meet.

< aside > Ma Nguni has been telling me to ditch the little fish because I deserve a dolphin. And one is coming across the seas to find me. Bless Moo-Moolicious and the ancient spirits she consults, with her bones and smoke and sewing thread…

Dax and I met last night to attempt a dignified dealing-with-breakup-admin dinner and, as if there hadn’t been enough miracles for one day, I was blessed with another. I’d be lying if I told you my recent strength has been without chinks: I’ve entertained passing fears that I might be making a mistake, that Dax may be the only man who will ever love and want to spend the rest of his life with me. I’ve missed him: missed falling asleep and waking up in someone’s arms. It’s desperately sad to love someone, know they love you too and yet, a healthy relationship appears impossible.

While reading another book (Permanent Midnight by Jerry Stahl), it occurred to me that Dax and I are a lot like a heroin addiction. We’ve shared moments of bliss, felt deeply connected and very much in love with one another. Unfortunately, the rest has been an experience of unadulterated Hell (in a hand-basket). We’re permanently on some horrific come down but keep chasing that old relationship dragon, hoping for another glimpse of magic. But I’ve learned, unless beauty can be sustained, it’s little more than an ephemeral trick of the light, like a rainbow. ‘Magic’ no more real than simple sunshine reflected through rain (or tears).

into a blazing sun...

Anyway, a few comments into the meeting, it dawned that he saw the breakdown of our relationship as mostly my fault – which I duly brought up as I dished the soup. Silence flooded the kitchen and confirmed my suspicion. He didn’t really want to admit it, caging:

“You’ll just get angry and think I’m an arrogant arsehole.”

{SN: What? No! Really? You? Arrogant??? Never… }

He went on to say how he “sees me” – a statement which doubled me over in silent mirth. Delivered with all the practiced sanctimony of a sodistic priest doling out the sacrament and pontificating to his flock of heathens. You see, Dax really thinks he sees me. I, on the other hand, know what it feels like to be ‘seen’ (I’ve been seen by friends, certain family members and a lover before) -  his ‘seeing’ feels a lot like having a tiny, ill fitting mask shoved over my face.

Sure, he sees some things. My hair, maybe, sticking up wildly behind this grotesque disguise. While the real me is hidden behind fears and insecurity he conveniently projects onto me. It amuses me because last year he professed to ‘see’ me already – and reported proudly that he saw mostly anger (and boy, oh boy, you should see the monstrous anger he carries around!). Now he claims his perfect 20/20 perception has changed (his eyesight improved, perhaps?) and he sees how deeply afraid I am. Which is rather ridiculously funny, since 10 days of being being single has me feeling better than I’ve felt in the past 2 months. Of course, the irony is it’s him who has exhibited at least 2 weeks worth of retreat!retreat! terror. But this is Dax. And this is what I’ve become accustomed to: he knows better than everyone about everything. One of the last gems was the sanctimoniousness declaration of how much better he knows me than I know myself. Haha. Really? Extensive evidence weighs heavily to the contrary…

But the small miracle reminded me why I’ve felt so stifled in this relationship, so misunderstood and unseen. Why I’ve felt like a special needs case, the proverbial ‘crane wife’ that’s been so kindly taken under wing by the benevolent boss, grand Duke Dax of D. Nile. Call me wholly ungrateful as I bite the hand that ‘feeds’ but I’d prefer someone who has the capacity to see me in my entirety, embrace and celebrate it with joy.

Good news: DT’s vanished, left me with a cracking headache and a renewed commitment to quitting the smack and staying clean. Forever.

Bottom line? Be grateful when they show you their smallness, insecurity and fear – you can decide whether these are issues worth bearing and working through together or whether you’re better off saying: “Thank you for playing. Game OVER!”