Coming to ground
touching down
looking around
I am here
where I should be.
Touching down
looking around
I am found
I flourish
where I should be
Looking around
I am found
in my place
I am home
where I should be
Coming to ground
I look around
I have found
my reason to be
where I am.
Well that was interesting those words found their way to my hands without spending much time in my head. I am glad and for the first time I feel like I have finally reached my reason for being on this planet, in this town, in this building. So many roads lead me back here where I first found happiness.
Short though the story may be I met my ex-husband on the front steps of this church and for 5 years I was happy. I still do not know for sure when that changed but I think it was on the trip we took out to BC to visit a friend of ours and ended up staying for a couple of years. Everything changed after that between him and I and I do not know why. Not the topic I was planning but it is preying on my mind so out it must come.
We packed us, two kids and a big grey cat into a mustang and headed out west to visit our friend who had moved out there. We took everything we had with up because we were looking for a new life.
Back in those days you could travel from Ontario to British Columbia without any money. Each night we would stop in a large town or city and visit the nearest Welfare office. They would direct us to any nearby shelters we could sleep at and give us a $100 bucks or so for food and other necessities. The next day we would do it again.
When we arrived in Britannia Beach, we stayed with our friend for a few days until we could find an apartment. We ended up in Squamish in a nice apartment building. The kids loved it and so did I but he (my KISA, as I called him), didn't. Thats not quite right there is information missing in my head because I do not remember how he felt about it and I should.
There are a few highlights like finding a super thrift shop that became a favourite place to visit and my work at Whistler cleaning up after tourists, climbing the mountain and seeing a mountain lake for the first time.
The memories are very disjointed. I fell down a flight of steps going to the basement, though I'm not sure why I was going into the basement at all unless it was to do laundry. There was a shadow behind me that I feel pushed me so I stumbled on the stairs but I think I staggered but managed to maintain my feet.
There was the man KISA claimed was his uncle who managed the building and who tried to hypnotize me and got pissy when I broke the trance by laughing.
There was a woman who I thought KISA was having an affair with.
When we decided to leave because he was missing his mother (I think that is why we left, he wanted to come back to Peterpatch), I gave some money to the kids and put them on the bus because we were not sure we would be able to places to sleep for four of us and a cat.
I don't remember the trip back at all beyond an argument because I thought we had more money to travel with then I found in my purse. I accused him of giving some of it to his lover.
Its such a jumbled mess because maybe the man did manage to hypnotize me and planted the thought of KISA cheating on me, because the shadow that pushed me evolved into KISA. I don't know, that is the story I remember but I am beginning to think there are too many blank spots, that it is not the true story. That things didn't go the way I thought they did and that it wasn't KISA's fault, that my anger was misplaced.
I still feel anger when I meet with him and it feels that every word out of his mouth is a lie and I am not that person. I have never been that kind of person. It feels wrong, incorrect, like maybe it was a dream or an implanted memory. I've always thought that I broke the trance with a laugh before I fall too deep yet what if I didn't?
What if it is like the fever dream that turned pleased laughter and cheers into scornful laughter and jeers from when I danced with the shadows after watching my first ballet? It is scary what the mind can convince us is true even when we know it can not be.
I admit to some jealousy because KISA has had some of his poetry published, while only one of mine was. The difference of course is that he got himself someone to publish it for him while I never really tried. My poetry was my way of dealing with what ever shit was going on in my life. I had no plans to publish it yet I feel jealous that he did manage that and so much else in his life.
Its weird I have known I was standing still in much of my life, not taking chances but I never understood why. I just say I am not competitive, I don't push I drift. Nothing has ever been that important to me that I would chase it, nothing. Perhaps I need to find that drive.
Perhaps I have found it, the thing that is important to me but I can't even put it into words properly. I want to help the homeless and the addicts through little acts of service as I have done since last summer. I want to provide shelter for them. I have no idea how to go about it and I am terrified to try.
What if I start and it is too much for me? Drifting is easier. Fear really is a mind killer. Fear is the enemy I have to find and overcome. Isn't it?
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