Looking toward the end

There are so many things I want to say, apologies I want to make. It scares me. I am terrified of the responses I could get, whether or not they are what I hope for. I don't know what to do, or how to do it. Thirteen years is so long, but is it too long?

I want to find out who I am, and I may need there help to find the pieces that are still missing. I just need to find the strength to make the first step.





I don't want to fall...

Community

I think the largest part of my lack of consistent updating is that I don't have a community. I have a kid, but I don't want to spend my life identifying myself as his mom. I knit, but not enough to write about. I'm fat, but not a size acceptance activist. I'm having trouble getting pregnant, but not a medical intervention infertility type. I'm a nerd, but who the hell blogs about that unless they are the techie sort?

I want a community, but am too shy, and can't seem to find my voice alone.

Ramble, ramble, ramble, STOP!

It's all coming too fast. October is getting here, and I am not ready for it. I feel like I need to do something on the fifth, but I don't know what, or how, to... I don't even know how to talk about it here. Even when I am somewhere like this, where I have the space to myself, I have a hard time talking about it.
On October 5, 1995 my mother died. This is a fact. This year, on October fifth, it will be FIFTEEN YEARS. FIFTEEN! That right there is more years with her gone than I was alive when she died. Fifteen. Good word. It really just leaves me struck dumb to think about it. To think that I was just shy of thirteen the last time I saw my mother. The last time I fought with her, and that is what we did that morning. I don't blame myself like I used to, even though she did kind of blame me, I don't think she entirely knew what the end result would be. I'm kind of over it now, kind of past the pain, and yet I never grieved properly. There is still a lot of hurt left, but I suspect that won't ever go away.
FIFTEEN years. Damn. I just keep looking at it and I can't wrap my head around it...
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And then twenty days after that, my baby turns ten. TEN! I don't know how I am going to deal with all of this when it lands on my doorstep. TEN & FIFTEEN!! I think it just might kill me, heh. The baby itch is only ramping up now that my baby is going to be a pre-teen. All the more reason to keep walking. (I am infertile at my present weight, and that is actually what brought on the exercise in the first place. I want to have another baby before I'm thirty, and it is getting pretty damned close!)

My life, much like my head, is in a constant state of everywhere at anytime. I just hope I can keep holding on and see November in with whatever sanity I have left. I get to have Christmas this year, and I'll be damned if I don't do it up HUGE to make up for being too poor to do it last year.

Who I am

I've been trying to take off some weight, and it has made me reflect on who I am.
I've been a fat girl for so long that it has become a precious part of me. I will always be a fat girl, physically, because that is how I was built to be. I won't give it up because I don't need to. I do, however, need to take off a good sixty pounds in order to feel fully healthy again. It's not easy...
About a month ago I started walking an hour or three miles a day, three or four days a week. It did wonders at first, and the first five pounds just disappeared. Now I am stuck in flux between seven and ten pounds lost, and it is really driving me batty. Walking is obviously not cutting it for me anymore, and I have no idea what to do.

On top of all this, amidst the frustration that comes with trying to stay motivated, is the feeling that I am not being true to myself. I am not doing this to look good, because I think I am attractive. I'm not doing this because society tells me to, it is a decision I am making for myself. It is just so damned hard. I can't afford to go to a gym, I can't afford equipment, and I have tried using workout videos on Netflix, but let's be real here, THOSE VIDEOS ARE FOR PEOPLE IN DECENT SHAPE. Obese people have balance issues, and all that swinging fat certainly doesn't help. I know I can complain here, because no one hears me.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!

I guess I'll try and dance my ass into exhaustion for another fifteen minutes. Maybe half an hour a day of pure ass busting will do something.

I certainly hope so, anyway.

Wishes

I continue to read blogs, and to lurk, because I feel like nothing I have to say is unique and that alone makes it worthless.
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Today I watched Julie & Julia and it really made me feel like I was missing out on something. As though my hesitation and fear of having to actually interact with people in order for them to want to interact with me was something I could overcome.
Alas, my eternal social awkwardness prevails.
I have so many things to say, so many words swirling around, and yet... and yet, I feel like saying them at all is just setting myself up for disaster. "Who would want to read what you have to say?" or, "What makes you special enough that anyone should read these words?" It's not that I am lacking in personality, or even likability, I just lack something so basic that there isn't even a word I know of to describe it. I guess it could be confidence, but I don't think that's it at all. I just have a hard time creating bonds with people. I don't have poor self worth, and yet I feel like I have nothing special to offer anyone.

I am just a lonely little blogger, who is afraid to say anything in case it ends up being nothing at all.

I woke up this morning with an earworm from a song I haven't heard in months.
I woke up with the ghosts of my bitter teenage choices tearing at my heart. If you could hear the way everything sounds swirling around my head the jumbled mess would likely drive you mad. I don't know what to make of resurgence of these feelings.
Some fantastic place... and the faces of the people I let myself lose. I was young and angry. I was bitter and hurting, and they should have known better. They should have clung tighter instead of loosening their grip. They should have given me every reason to want to stay a part of her family. Instead they loosened, and in my clouded judgment I let myself drift away.
I don't know if what I want now is to try and fit myself into their lives, or fit them into mine, I just know that my mother's death resulted in so much more loss than it ever should have. I lost her people, my people, and my son lost his history before his story even began.

I have dreams about bringing an infant girl to a family party, her family's party. I dream of my son dazzling them with his charm and my daughter being the center of attention. I don't have a daughter, and I don't have my family, and yet the dreams remain.

I've lost so many people who were important, and only two of them through death. I ran from my family when things got hard, instead of running to them, and now they're all gone.

My heart and soul ache for the love I used to have, but squandered with youthful foolishness.

The pit.

Possibly the hardest thing I find myself dealing with is this pit of despair that crops up uninvited. Nothing has to cause it to appear, sometimes it feels like it is just reminding me that it is always near.
And when it does...
I feel like a ghost of myself. I feel like I don't exist, or as if I never had. I find myself fighting tears for grief that should not exist. I am consumed by this burning, aching... it's everything and nothing all at once.
It feels like I am covered in a heavy black blanket, and I am running out of air.

Will.

Today, though I have been awake just barely an hour, I won. Today my will was stronger than my bad habits. I will need to be victorious often, if I am to meet my goal, but each win can only make me stronger. I need to do this, I need to LEARN to be stubborn about the right things, instead of just the things it is easy to be stubborn about.

Today I try to change myself, and I hope beyond hope that I can succeed.

Adrift

I was watching a movie today, and two people fell in love under impossible circumstances. They chose not to pursue their passion for each other in order to maintain the lives they had built. This movie came to me during an emotionally tumultuous time in my life, and those feelings awaken each time the film comes to that scene.
I can't articulate the whirlwind that comes over me, except to say that it is everything all at once.
Betrayal, lust, love, doubt, fear, anticipation, and all with a clear mind. I don't miss that feeling myself, but sometimes I miss that intensity.
I became so accustomed to my life being in upheaval that this stable happy life almost seems pale. There's no more track left on that roller coaster, and I almost miss that. It's taking time to adjust to not being in that situation. To no longer being the person who put themselves into those situations.
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I had a conversation with my father yesterday, that led to many reflections on who I have been, and who I have become. I am my father's daughter. All of those insecurities and antisocial quirks, the hiding and lamenting. Those are all of his habits, and now they are mine. I do think that I have improved upon his design, however, in that my selfishness allows me to do for myself with less guilt. It allowed me to separate myself from situations and relationships that were not beneficial for me or my son. However, it also bore my flight sense.
I walked away from my family about eight years ago. I left the father of my child and just went away from them. I kept contact with my father, and thus my siblings, and wrote off everyone else. I broke strong bonds, because it was easier to walk away than to explain that I had made a mistake in bearing a child for a man who was not worth it. I was disappointed in myself, and sure that they were disappointed in me. Now I have to try and fix those broken bonds that are still available for mending. I lost that chance with one of my favorite people. I have to stop running from the people who love me even when I walk away. I have to not be selfish and fear hearing about their thoughts on how I have lived my life. I have to give up my reluctance in order to gain the family I have had all along.

Reach me.

I'm pretty well isolated up on this mountain. I don't know how much I have delved into that before. I don't go anywhere, aside from our twice a month grocery shopping trips. For the most part I am happy with that as my life these days is pretty fulfilling, but when it does start to bother me, it's maddening.
It all changes this week, we're adding an ever other week game of Dungeons and Dragons with some of the boyfriend's co-workers to our schedule. This could either go very well, or very very poorly. I am such a mess when it comes to socializing with people. I never know what to say, and so can come off in any variety of unflattering ways. I'm hoping for the best, this could be a solution for all of those maddening moments where this house is my prison. I want to have friends, and this is a step in the right direction.
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In related news, I find that in addition to people not being able to comprehend that I don't yet know how to drive, people are equally astonished by my lack of a cellular networking device. When you live like I do, however, there really isn't a need for one. My land line is more than sufficient for telephoning, and my computer is pretty well within sight most of the day. That's good enough for me right now.
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Last week I shared a song from Bongwater that related to my feelings about time. This song relates to my feelings of isolation, both literal and figurative.

Time.

I have been thinking a lot about time the past few days. Not just the measuring, and the passing of, but what happens with and without it.
Time becomes the greatest tyrant in our lives, as observes the song at the end of this post.

Time has given me a way to measure the changes in my life, the decisions I have made, the people I have lost. Time in its eternal nagging reminds me of all the things I have let slide, selfishly, in trying to become the person I wish to be.
In running away from my family, my friends, I have forfeited time. It all came home to me this past weekend, when a family friend passed on. I don't know the details, because my self imposed alienation makes me feel as though I am unwelcome to inquire. Because I gave up that time. The time with him, the time with the people that help to connect me to him. Time is not only a measurement, but a commodity. How easily we squander it with no expectation of a return on the investment of it. Time is everything we fear. It is lost and never regained, nor can it be redeemed or earned. It is so maddeningly persistent, and unattainable. Time is madness.

Home

I grew up in the Southern part of Queens County, New York. One of the five boroughs, it has it's own unique charms. From the time I was a teenager, I wanted to move to the Rockaway Peninsula, which is as far South as you can go and still be in Queens. It used to be known for having he most undeveloped coastline for the entire East coast. I loved my day trips out there with my best friend, and when the time came that we decided to move out of our childhood homes, that is where we wanted to go.

(It is fitting that this post comes today, as Rockaway was known as the Irish Riviera.)

We moved in February, and it was fantastic. The ocean was a five minute stroll away, the bay was a two minute stroll away. The views... oh the views! Beautiful bridges and lights on the bay side, and just the bliss of ocean and sky on the other...

This post is trying to race out of my head today, and my thoughts are a mess. You see, living in that neighborhood, I discovered what truly brings me peace. Walking. I would walk everywhere. There was nothing like having the sun on your back, the smell and spray of the water, and my headphones pumping in whatever I felt like hearing. It was bliss. I miss it. I ache for the days where I walked along the shore, or even the days I walked along Metropolitan Avenue on my way to work. The sun is shining through the window of my new mountain home, and I miss the smells and sights of home.
The trouble, you see, is that I can't walk here like I did then. There's no boardwalk, or pavement to let me lose focus and let my feet run the show. The terrain is bumpy, and I can't keep a steady pace. I have to pay attention lest I end up in a ditch. Of all the things I could miss of my urban home, I miss the walking most.
I am disgustingly homesick.

New Start

I had a blog before, and posting would happen in spurts. It occurred to me today that the "voice" I used there wasn't natural enough to me. I was masking some part of my true self, and that is not the type of person I really am. I'm trying this again. I've broken out the handle I use everywhere else, the one that has been part of my life for almost thirteen years. That is who I am, and who I should have been over at that other blog.

So here I am. I'm the shy lurker at tons of blogs, and now when I leave comments I can leave them under a moniker that is me. (So me, in fact, that my father suggested I change my name to something similar to it. I know it seems strange, but it does make sense, I promise.)

The Cadavereye thing is strange to most people, it's kind of morbid, right? It comes from a song by Alice Cooper, and my father gave it to me as my first AOL screen-name when I was fourteen. Since then it's been with me, and followed me into MMO's, social networking, and even into real life. I will just as readily answer to Cada as I do to my real name.

I have adopted this name, and this blog. I am scrambled, I ramble, and my moniker comes from a song about necrophilia.
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I knit, cook, play games, have a kid, and will post about any and all of those things. I am just here to post, let off some steam. Hopefully I'll find myself and you'll come along.