Idle Times.

“I know I can be afraid but I’m alive and I hope you see this heart behind my tired eyes.”


As I am sitting here on this glorious afternoon, overwhelmed by my unambitious self I look around this room and really take it in. I have to have been doing something right all these years. I mean fuck, for fucks sake, I don’t know how I ended up here . . . here, with this precious time. I think about all the things that I love and that have come into my life, I did not make them happen, they just did. If I think hard about things, strangely everything that I wanted, intentionally or unintentionally I have received. Strange right? I know . . . maybe we do not all get what we want, we get what we need. Case in point, my enormous cat, I love her dearly, really she has been though it all with me. The only one that has consistently, for the past decade spent every single bloody night, good or bad by my side. When I first moved out on my own I was 21 and a fucking wicked pain in the ass. It was after my mothers death, I could not live in that house another minute, that house was the death zone. Years later it would be my safe zone. If I were to have met me then, now, I would have hated me. I was undeserving, materialistic, and controlled by men. I know, as we grow we change. I was living in my first apartment, it was adorable, spiral staircase loft, anyway . . . all I had kept saying was how much I wanted a calico cat with green eyes. I had already had my dog Chloe, and I thought our little family needed a third, I was in no way actively getting another animal. It was a rainy spring night in early May, I was leaving to spend the night at my then boyfriends house. As I pulled out of my parking space I saw this little drowned rat of a thing. I stopped my car and this animal had scampered underneath my car. Ok what the fuck. I could’t leave, I went and got my neighbors and they were able to crawl under the car and grab this thing. I put her in the car and drove her back to my place, I wanted to see what I was dealing with here. I gave her a bath, she was covered head to toe with burs, her face had been sliced open, the gash across her nose was fresh. This little one had been getting the shit kicked out of her, this was going to be her last night. She was starving, nearly clawed me half to death to get to the loaf of bread on the counter. She had no idea how to eat cat food or eat out of a bowl. She then, all cleaned and warm proceeded to sleep for the next three days. When she woke there she was, my mainecoon with green eyes. My sweet girl. Not only did my cat coming into my life change things, so did my relationship with my then boyfriend. I always say that Olivia finding me was my out to my relationship with then boyfriend Tony. He was an over bearing Italian, with a pizza shop. Women were to know “their” place . . . hi have we met? Ok so I was not as vocal as I am now, I should have left when he threw a bag of onions at me and told me never to “disrespect” or “embarrass” him again . . . mind you these were pre-stripper days. Yeah, ok. I was scared, he made me cry a lot, he also would take me to New York and buy be Gucci bags on Fifth Ave. I was never going to conform, if I ever were this would have been the time. He told me to get rid of the cat, I was like you are fucking nuts, she came to me . . . she was my gift, all I asked for. I chose the cat, three years in that relationship done. I could not have picked a better way to have that end, I needed to get out of that and just did not know how. My sweet girl was my key.

Every time an opportunity has come my way it has never been a problem, if I could get into whatever school it was I could go. Whatever I wanted to be, I was given every chance to do, it was all my own undoing that sabotaged that. I was never held accountable, I dodged every single bullet one way or another. I was given second and third chances. I always would toss it . . . fuck it. Maybe I was spoiled, maybe I still am. Jobs, when they were more available and reasonable for a twenty something girl I would just walk away from and never go back. My theory was well, it’s not like this job means anything I am not going to be a manager at the fucking GAP, I am really going to be something. That something, a thirty something stripper. I know, I got exactly what I wanted. I found a job that allowed me to say “fuck it” all the time. At least I could be me. This job allowed me a little bit of breathing room, something that I desperately needed. Breathing this was something that I struggled with, I needed to find a little bit of peace . . . peace from it all, everything that I wanted. Also, everything that I didn’t, my mother. Over the years as time kept humming along, my anxiety disorder, unbeknownst ¬†to me kept festering. It grew in that job, in my relationships, my lack of committing to anything except the less desirable job and worser the man . . . the last one, the one that almost destroyed me. With my anxiety becoming overbearing I needed to find someway to down shift . . . drugs were not the answer for this type A lunatic . . . yoga was. I bought a mat, had no idea what the hell I was doing and dove in, I found a profound love for this practice. Mostly though it was just allowing me to be me. . . no ego, no agenda, just show up on the mat, move and breathe. I think I also liked that nobody had any fucking expectations . . . If I want to lay there I can. That made me want to really do this. It did not matter who or what I was, I was there to love myself that day and give myself that gift of practice. Three years later, it has helped me in finding the inner beauty that is so hard for me to see at times. It gives me the ever needed quiet, and I have learned to properly breathe.

Now back to where I started, being grateful for this time . . . being grateful for being one of the lucky ones to find their best friend and lover. I was never expecting to find love when I did, I was just going to go about it alone. I was dancing and determined not to have anyone fuck that up. It was at that time all about the money, I was willing to date men. Only ones that had wives to go home to. My choice, I had no rules they were my own, until this man arrived. I guess how it always happens. When you are not looking they find you . . . here is the thing, I didn’t want to be found. . . or did I? Sometimes as I have said to Sparrow, I think he came by at the most opportune time even though it pissed me off to no end. I was going to fall in way to deep, I was not going to come out of any of the choices that I made from that point on, ok? He was my changing factor, he forced the change that needed to happen. I know that things in our life are not ideal. We were suppose to marry this September, I was not suppose to go back to work, Sparrow was to have a new job by now . . it just is. This time, the time that I sit idle in . . . what I think I waste so much of. Maybe it has not been as useless as I think it has been. Maybe cut myself a fucking break. Maybe it is ok to have daily static of nothingness in my everyday life when shit is so up in the air.



~ by applejaxe on June 27, 2012.

One Response to “Idle Times.”

  1. Beautiful realizations honey! I totally know (not believe, know) that we get what our truest wants and needs are. Not always the way we think we will, either, which is where that sitting, just being and being willing to let it flow comes in. Cheers to you pretty lady!

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