on why I've been avoiding you

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Oh, good sweet Lord. You know what I just realized? It’s almost September. You know September marks the beginning of fall right? The last part of the year? Meaning…the year is almost over? Hot damn.

Yah, sure, I should have noticed this earlier – like you think maybe I would have noticed that the year was passing by me when the months did; march, may, august. Gulp. September?

…I didn’t really notice.

When I was little, one of my favourite things to do was roll down the giant slopes of Connaught Hill, and catch grass in my ponytail and pockets. What I didn’t realize back then was that the sensation feels quite differently when the hills are proverbial and seemingly endless and I am an adult – shouldn’t I have stopped rolling down hills by now? 2011 has been a giant stumbletumbletrip to the landing pad I’m hoping shows up soon (say, in September?). End over end, and I can’t quite catch my footing. You’ve probably noticed that for quite some time now I’ve avoided concrete thought. Nearly everything I’ve written could be paraphrased this way “Don’t ask. I don’t want to write about it” or “trala-laaa lalala!”

There are reasons for this; reasons I won’t fully explain now, because quite honestly, they’re still a little too fresh to use as writing material. The thing about being a writer is that personal experience is the perfect material, unless of course, the experiences are a little…too personal. I know that I will write in detail about this year at some point in the future. Maybe next year. For now, perhaps a summary will do.

I just read through many of this year’s posts; reliving the memories of where I was at each point, and feeling twinges of “oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what’s coming.” This year was marked with a decent sized list of bad decisions, some of which I made myself. The most painful ones, though, were made by others in regards to me. It is this second group of inflictions that have left me reeling. I’ve learned to compliment myself for leaving abusive relationships – this means I'm strong, right? – yet the tumbling comes as I wonder how not to wear or carry what was left at the ends. I have good days and bad days. I’ve learned much about myself, and I’ve learned who my friends are, which in every way makes this year worth it. Though the sifting was difficult, at least it seems to be over for now. (Dear Jesus, please let it be over).

Much of my time as of late has been spent in the recovery of hibernation, and I’ve been ruminating like mad about the point of it all: life, pain, choices; strength. All this thinking has helped me realize that I feel quite lucky: because I was strong enough; because I still have the ability to look forward, I have better friends than I realized, and thankfully, I still have hope in my eye. That’s the funny thing about being treated like someone else; it helps you realize who you are.

So if the first part of this year has been spent wondering where the ground went, I am hopeful that the last part of this year will be spent admiring the soil. It may look different than I was expecting, but I will have never been more thankful for the feel of cool earth on my cheek than I will be when September and the stillness finally hit.

Oh lord, let the stillness hit.
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