Memento Mori

My photo
Seattle, Washington, United States
Professional Darling

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Mirrors Reflection or How I Survived 365 days

It's been a year. Well a year and a couple of days by my calculations. I can't remember the exact date, nor do I want to really. Reflections. I'm not sure I can conjure up the strength to recapture the entire year, so I'm not going to try. Really, I'm here as a celebration, so to speak. I made it. I never thought I would make it. I've learned that I'm stronger than I give myself credit for. I remember all those nights where I just lay down on the floor and cried until I fell asleep. I remember feeling like my heart was being ripped out of my chest in some sort of bloody catastrophic mess. Held up and then stepped on. I remember all those nights when I wished I wouldn't wake up from sleep.

I remember throwing drugs and alcohol on top of it all and hoping that the acidity of such addictions would just eat right through it and make it go away. Perhaps I prolonged my suffering by doing it this way, or perhaps I eased my pain enough so that I didn't do the thing that he thought I would. Suicide. I loved you my darling, and while I cannot say in all honesty that the thought never crossed my mind, but I prefer to believe that my mental-chemical imbalances chose to show me that direction, and not my rational mind. All that is important, is that I didn't and I'm here.

Stronger than ever before? Possibly, but not guaranteed. The honest truth is that I learned something from the experience and that I experienced the experience. That is something that will never go away. That is something that will always stay with me, just like the love I felt for him will stay with me. It doesn't linger like an old flame that I wish to ignite again but it lingers with a knowing smile. "Yes, I loved you this intensely and yes with a ferocity that I never could have imagined possible. But no, I am not in love with you and no, I do not love you anymore."

The saddest part is that he was an amazing person, but we are not friends. Yes, we are friends in the social world of online networking but there is nothing there. There are no comments and there are no messages. It is void of any sense of friendship that we once had. It saddens me, but I know that sometimes, that is how people deal with everything, and I'm okay with that.

So here I am. I have risen from the ashes and I am a new person. I'm stable and strong and I don't need to depend on anyone for anything. I am self-sufficient. I can order a pizza over the phone and travel to "foreign" countries on a whim. I don't abuse alcohol and the only drugs I take for the most part are the ones that are prescribed for me. [Restricted didn't count!] I workout to some degree everyday. I eat healthy and mostly organic. I take care of my mind by reading books that are there to help me. I deal with each and every emotion as it comes up and in a healthy way. I cultivate friendships that are important to me, and I discard the ones that drain me emotionally. I have a new attitude towards sex and I have such a deeper understanding of certain aspects of my sexuality that I only caught mere glimpses of before.

I am a whole person, I don't need anyone else to complete me.

I'm not sure how many years it has taken me to utter those words. Ten, fifteen, maybe more. All I do know, is that those words are the most precious words to come out of my mouth since the first thing I ever said as a baby. They are pure and with an intent so intense that they don't ever have to be uttered again because words like that stick with you, just like who you are can never go away. We can run from ourselves, or like me, towards ourselves. The latter certainly has brought about greater purpose and happiness to me, albeit with a few growing pains along the way.

With Love,
- Gennifer.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Last night I cried in my sleep. I woke to wracking sobs and warm tears falling down my cheeks to pool in the hollow of my neck. I can remember the last person I cried for while sleeping, which makes this instance perplexing and very scary. Emotions, even when sleeping, run deep.