Thursday, June 27, 2013

Surprising find

I went trolling through some of my old writings in search of something I started awhile back and instead I have stumbled across this gem. I don't remember writing it, but I like it.

I want to tell you a story. It has happy parts and sad parts and parts that might make you cringe. I want to tell you that it has a happy ending but I can't. Not because all the characters of the story die, although they ultimately might, but because I do not know how or where it ends. 

Here I sit in the midst of this story, the one I wish to tell you.

You, I have no doubt, you are an amazing creature. But right now, in the middle of my story, you do not actually exist yet. Not for a lack of desire.

We are working toward having you.

Everything I do is focused on us having you. I imagine what it will feel like carrying you around inside of me. Will I love it, will I hate pregnancy. I will admit I am nervous that it will be a let down. Only because of my high hopes, my overwhelming desire to have you. 

I wish I could tell you everything, but I must edit to keep the parts I need to tell, and others I simply wish to. I want to fill you up with knowledge and strength. I want to protect you and empower you. More than anything I want you to be a proud, honest soul. A person I would call friend. 

No road is entirely easy, we all have the burdens of the past unfairly and unceremoniously dumped on to our shoulders. Your road will be hard, and harder perhaps because of who your parents are. For that, I beg forgiveness. My dear child, if I could protect you from this world and its cruelty I would, and will when I can. But here I am to tell you what I can, to let you see how and who I am. This is not the story to justify or win your love, just the story of me and in large part also your father

Saturday, June 22, 2013


On Thursday we had our first insemination. It was an unexpectedly amazing experience.

The lead up to it however was not so much fun. A few days earlier to the insemination I had a major melt down of sorts. I had not slept without night terrors until last night. The melt down was because of demons in my past and it hurt that somehow they can still have such an effect on me. It's true, the effect was less then it has been in the past, but it still angers and frustrates me that they still have any power at all.

I'm feeling better on that front.

The insemination was a miraculously personal and gentler experience than I thought it would be. Frankie was able to be the one who actually inseminated me (so I can still blame him in delivery(;). As a lay there afterward we had time just the two of us, and it was a small moment that meant the world to me.

Since the insemination I have been in near agony. Pains in my stomach have been crippling me and making me worry that something has gone wrong. I'm trying to keep focus on the positive but it will be two weeks before we know whether or not we have our little stranger ... It will be the longest two weeks in memory.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013


Today, someone I admire quite a lot told me that I was one of the strongest people she knows. She also told me, that what I am doing, she simply could not. I wish I could say my first reaction was a warmth of love and appreciation for recognition that life at the moment is not the easiest for me. I wish that I could even say I felt a sense of blushed embarrassment.

However, what I felt overwhelmingly more than anything else was that I am a fraud.

I do not feel strong, I do not feel like what I am doing or going through isn't something that others could and do go through. And they do it with a lot more grace, charm and ease then what I am managing.

It was lovely and kind of unexpected to hear that from her, but I still have this gnawing sense of being 'found out' at any point.


Bitter roots firm and unforgiving
Eviscerated of Sunday afternoon memories
They are replaced by the dark
Shame and sodden mould growing inside

Twisting around spine and bone
Ripped and shred of all that feels safe
Bloody hands dig deeper, fingernails sharp
Brutal sounds of tearing flesh and laughter

Saturday, June 15, 2013


Reading old books that I truly love is like curling up in a warm comfy blanket. With so much going on in my life at the moment, the idea of embracing a new reading journey is just a little too daunting. The idea of not reading at all is just unacceptable. So I am re-reading books from my past and finding comfort in the known. They are words that are wrapping around my like gentle arms letting me collapse in to their embrace.


It's a bitter sweet sensation when you finally bare your soul, your secrets to another, even when the feedback is nothing but positive. It all becomes that little bit more real. I don't do well to exposure. 

My past, cruel and vicious events that have shaped me whether I wanted them  to or not are a completely different story. When I have worked through pain and anguish, disgust at my own self, feelings of betrayal from life's cruel ironies then I can babble about them for hours. I can laugh and roll my eyes and I can be pissed with the perpetrators (even when it is my own self) but not linger on any hatred. But events that I feel are the storm around my thinly veiled calm, this has never been my strong point. 

I wrap myself so tightly up with anything that will do, just to mask what's really happening inside. The true problem with this, is that even when I know that something is wrong, I have mastered my art of cocooning too well. I couldn't tell you what was wrong, even if I wanted to. I have my theories, but weeks later I will discover that wasn't even the true issue at all. High five (in the forehead) to being a master of the cocoon. 

Tuesday, June 11, 2013


They stumble from out of history
Life and fantasy
I feel my knees trembling beneath 
My inferiority complex

They are giants, fearsome and distant
As sirens they call and beckon with smirks 
I slink beneath unknown fears and horrors
But they continue, closer to my nightmares

Eyes penetrate me, pleasure and pain 
warped into crescendo 
I want to scream but cannot without voice
Their eyes glisten and I sink under their weight

A silence, heavy and thick like too many blankets
On a steaming night of restlessness

Gentle, too gentle and soft the point 
Of their touch, beneath my lowered chin
I give in and my head rises, flickering my eyes
They betray me and my desire to hide, to run, to not exist

It must be a trick, of light of deception
Until I feel the warmth from their enfolding arms
My giants; my protectors, 
cursed for too long by my own judgemental fear

My giants