068/100 days of aspirin

Being busy to mask the sound of silence.

Spent a couple of hours working, and got the car tyre changed. As I drove off to the supermarket the tyre warning light came on. I parked up, looked at the handbook (I know the limitations of my knowledge), decided that the issue was the new tyre was fuller than the old ones and I just needed to fill those up. Not before I had spent time thinking abount all the things that could go wrong if I obeyed my instinct to bury my head in the sand and ignore it. Imagining having the warning light on for ever more because I didn't go back to the garage, or because I chose the local garage instead of the main dealer or, or, or...

In my work with different personality types, I know there are people who spot the right thing to do, and just go and do it, without any agonies of indecision. So many times I envy that certainty. Not getting distracted by a dizzying array of possibilities.

Back to the silence, and realising that some possibilities are just too improbable.

067/100 days of aspirin

Eleven weeks since the day I fell.
A positive work day, got to chat to two of the team and hopefully make an impact, helping them do a better job. Maybe they won't hit the level that their bosses want them to, but if I hadn't spent that time with them they wouldn't improve at all.
Worked a half day too, so was able to drive home in the middle of the day without traffic, back in two and a half hours, in plenty of time for meeting friends in the evening.
A nice meal out, took a taxi and left the crutch at home. I still limp a little but when I'm concentrating the rhythm is almost perfect (on a flat even path!)

And as for the emotional ups and downs, well, this quote should end it all...

"One of the cruellest things a person can do is awaken someone's love without the intention of truly loving them."

#awakeaugust 27

I do still have grey flat 'rock' outside my window; cracked and lined. There are three filled trenches at the junction between the kerb and the pedestrian island, and a wider one the follows the corner and the double yellow line, fresh as butter. The white stop triangle and the hatched area are eroded, the paint only speckled in places.
I am missing the stones of the Burren

papersquare 002: Marking time

A friend told me, you need to cut off all contact, for at least six months, in order to get someone out of your system.  It is six months and five days today.  I was waiting for the time to be up, counting the days.  I knew at all times exactly how long there was to go to the deadline.  I know I have waited those extra five days, and I am proud of that, exceeding the promise I made myself.

How many times have I written to you in my head though?  Wanting to say something that makes you wish for me.  No, not wish for me, but actually do something, take a step towards me.  That's all I ever wanted from you.  It didn't happen in these six months.

I can't say that you are out of my system yet.  I do think of you every day, but I won't take a step towards you today. I hope I won't tomorrow.

what is a good bye?

you would know him if you saw him

He has been with me for years, this tall man, not a gentleman. His skin is fair, I do like a man who can blush, or be flushed with exertion; thinking of his face unmasked in passion. A large man, well, large bloke. Blokes are down to earth, normal, have blokey mates and do blokey things and he anchors me to the world from which I might otherwise drift. He is big, and strong, he makes me feel physically right, not fragile (I am never that) but in proportion to him and to the world.

He makes me feel like I have a place here, I am not 100% sure what that place is, but it is here because of him. He has the key to opportunities, the one that unlocks my spontaneity. I would think, Hey, lets go to the cliffs today and lie on the grass while the seagulls whirl overhead, or We could go to the station and get on the first westbound train, or The pub is open, lets go. And we would do it, I would not make excuses to myself and end up doing nothing but thinking about new things, I would, we would experience them. That was all that mattered, doing things together.

The details of how he translates to this world, my ideal man, are a little sketchy. There is no recipe, like he must call me xx times a day, or we must be married (to each other!) The last man in this world made me feel all of those things. I felt more interesting, more lovable when he was with me. But the real world came calling and just like that he was gone, and Mr Ideal is taking an extended holiday right now.

blasted

blasted but beautiful still

in its way, most days

I drive right by

but I stopped this morning,

I wanted to see

if it still lived

with its heart splintered so

in my head

conversations with you
though the echo
of my high heeled footsteps
bounces through the empty
market square