goldmourn (amberdawnpullin) wrote,
goldmourn
amberdawnpullin

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{I am moving forward but I still look back}

Friday, October 03, 2003
2:46pm

"It comes through the written and the spoken word; sometimes a word, a sentence or a poem or a story, is so resonant, so right, it causes us to remember, at least for an instant, what substance we are really made from, and where is our true home.
These transient "tastes of the wild" come during the mystique of inspiration---ah, there it is; oh, now it has gone.
...
Yet it is these fleeting tastes which come both through beauty as well as loss, that cause us to become so bereft, so agitated, so longing that we eventually must pursue the wildish nature. Then we leap into the forest or into the desert or into the snow and run hard, our eyes scanning the ground, our hearing sharply tuned, searching under, searching over, searching for a clue, a remnant, a sign that she still lives, that we have not lost our chance. And when we pick up her trail, it is typical of women to ride hard to catch up, to clear off the desk, clear off the relationship, clear out one's mind, turn to a new page, insist on a break, break the rules, stop the world, for we are not going on without her any longer."
Women Who Run With The Wolves
Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype
by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D


I was explaining to Tracey my inability to write anything at all these days --- snail mail, journal entries, poetry, anything --- and her response was that she was suprised. She said, "but you are someone who needs to write in order to live!" and I hadn't been aware that she understand that part of me so well until that moment.

3:55pm
So far this month, I have perfect attendance. Today was a 'unpaid volunteer layoff day' and I took it. My hands are becoming increasingly worse. I'm at the bandage-stage and today the skin started to weep. I had a first aid report filled out Monday when the rash was just starting to show more prominently. The next few days it spread. It is not on the palm of my hand yet but it is on the back of both, on the left arm and crawling up onto the fingers on the right hand. There is someone new handling WSIB cases and she asked me if it was caused by stress. I said that my hands would have been long-since gone if that were so, considering the anxiety and depression I have experienced for the past few years. Yes, the skin can be irritated moreso by 'upset nerves' but it is most affected when I work. I have worked more hours in the past couple of months than I have all year and so that is why it is now getting this way. When I first opened the knuckle bandage wrappers, I said to myself, "Welcome home again" - this is all too familiar territory for me. What sucks is that I will most likely have to get to the point of having hamburger-meat for hands again since the new management has no clue about this condition or what I went through the last time. Looks like I should read up on the material I collected from before, keep good records and just hope that it doesn't get that bad. I will be seeing my doctor on the 10th of October and so I will be sure to show him my hands then. I didn't think I would be at the stage where I would require a WSIB form to be filled out but looks like I might be afterall, since the weeping has begun. I might even be cracked and bleeding by then. What a pretty mess it will be... just like me.

Wednesday was an interesting day at work. My dad was taken out of the factory by ambulance. Bob-my-supervisor approached me and said that my dad was being taken taken to the hospital and that I could go up and see him. I started walking but turned into a run to get to the front of the building, curving around equipment and bins. Not good to run in the factory but... Dad was on the stretcher, bundled up and tied down, oxygen mask on, and I got there just on time to make some jokes and he laughed a little. They took him away and then I was lead into the first aid room, sat down and asked if I was okay. My hands shook something fierce. Bob-the-supervisor had given me a box of the knuckle bandages earlier that day. Dad had mentioned numbness in his chest, his arm... he had heart attacks in the past and he has high blood pressure. I walked back with Jason-the-Chairperson and gave Dad's stuff to Dad's friend Laurel and then as I was going back to my job I started crying. I cried and cried and couldn't stop. My friend Tracey came back to me and and talked with me for a bit and calmed me down. My eyes were turned a bright crystal-like green from my gray or sometimes blue color. She took me to the hospital after work to see my dad. He is okay and home but needs to have more tests done by the doctor. It is considered a mild stroke at this time. I was told by a fellow worker to remember it this way:

numbness = brain
pain = heart

That makes sense on so many levels.

After work that day, I called Guy but hung up after 2 rings. I can't keep calling him whenever I go through a crisis. It's not fair to do for either of us now that we have broken up. It's just that for so long he was the only person that I could talk to or had and so that need or response is difficult to let go. I will always care for Guy and he will always have a place in me that no one else can ever have. I love him and think about him but know that it is best I let him free to get on with his life and for me to move on with mine. We were so unhealthy. It was over long ago, I think, but we still held on, with hope, with passion, with desperation. It was a fantasy-dream that couldn't be and it was time to stop the cycle before it destroyed completely one or both of us. I know that I was lost along the way. I became someone I am not. I had to admit that I am not the one for him and he is not the one for me. It is still painful to deal with even though this has happened so many times between us over the years - but it is long overdue. How do I know this is really the end? I filtered out his music cds from my collection and packed them all into boxes. Yes, I miss him very much and I wish that we were in contact, that we could be friends, but realize this might never happen. Despite everything, I think he is a good man with great talents and a good heart. I will not bash him and I will not hate him. I wish Guy well - happiness and health, love and peace - I hope he receives all of these.

{I am moving forward but I still look back}
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