This is the Last Time

Wow, that was a big weekend!

I had dreams/nightmares galore, along with a breakthrough in the writing of my book, which I am now sure is a memoir.

Going into the weekend, I had started it about 20 different times, so the workshop I signed up for was called "Great Beginnings." I also signed up to work one on one with a published author on a critique of a manuscript that I submitted ahead of time, and out of both experiences came an understanding of where my book needs to begin: with a scene from my childhood.

On Saturday night, I wrote that scene, and on Sunday in workshop, I shared it to a group of kind, compassionate, and helpful writers who helped me understand better how to convey what I want and need to convey.

Tonight, I revised the scene based on their feedback, and now I feel like I have a path forward for my book.

While writing today, I heard this song, and it seemed appropriate to mark this day, as I am hoping this is the last time I will write the beginning of my memoir:

This is the last time
That I will say these words
I remember the first time
The first of many lies
Sweep it into the corner
Or hide it under the bed
Say these things, they go away
But they never do

Something I wasn't sure of
But I was in the middle of
Something I forget now
But I've seen too little of

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

This is the last time
That I will show my face
One last tender lie and
Then I'm out of this place
Tread it into the carpet
Or hide it under the stairs
You say that some things never die
Well, I tried and I tried

Something I wasn't sure of
But I was in the middle of
Something I forget now
But I've seen too little of

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

I Don't Remember

Starting November off with snow on the ground!?!

Stepping out of my comfort zone this weekend, I signed up for a writing retreat.

I learned so much today, day one of three, including a genre that I didn't know existed: autobiographical fiction. It refers to a book that is primarily comprised of made up events and characters that may be based on the author's own experience and self.

When I signed up for this retreat, I was still trying to decide between writing a memoir and writing fiction. It's tricky to write a memoir, because it requires that you remember things from your past, and quite often, like my friend Peter Gabriel, I don't remember:

I got no means to show identification
I got no papers show you what I am
You'll have to take me just the way that you find me
What's gone is gone and I do not give a damn

Empty stomach, empty head
I got empty heart and empty bed
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

Strange is your language and I have no decoder
Why don't you make your intentions clear
With eyes to the sun and your mouth to the soda
Saying, "Tell me the truth, you got nothing to fear"

Stop staring at me like a bird of prey
I'm all mixed up, I got nothing to say
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, absolutely anything at all

I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember

It's true. There are a lot of things I don't remember, but a lot that I do remember too, and I have a feeling that the process of writing will unearth some long dormant memories.

When I got home tonight, I wanted a giant glass of wine -- my first sign that I was triggered and did NOT want to feel whatever was trying to come through.

I don't have to do it tonight, but I am committed to standing up to these memories and putting them on the page so that they can help others who have gone through something similar to me...

Storybook Love

The New Englander and me in our early years together

There's no getting around it. I've been feeling sad these past few weeks.

I know that there is a period of adjustment after a breakup. I get that.

Something that is harder for me than normal life is returning home from a trip to an empty house. I've traveled twice this month, and the first time felt super hard, this time just hard.

It's not the loss of the physical body that I'm used to being next to that feels hard this time. It's the loss of the dream. The loss of the partner I thought I had. The loss of the life I thought we were going to share. The loss of the plan for our future. All of it gone.

This song was on a TV show I was watching tonight, and it made me sob like a baby:

Come my love, I'll tell you a tale
of a boy and girl and their love story
and how he loved her oh, so much,
and all the charms she did possess.

Now this did happen once upon a time
When things were not so complex.
And how he worshipped the ground she walked on.
When he looked in her eyes, he became obsessed.

My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel.
My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel;
it's as real as the feelings I feel

This love was stronger than the powers so dark,
A prince could have within his keeping;
His spells to weave and steal a heart
Within her breast, but only sleeping.

My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel.
My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel;
it's as real as the feelings I feel

He said, "Don't you know I love you oh, so much,
And lay my heart at the foot of your dress?"
She said, "Don't you know that storybook loves
Always have a happy ending?"

Then he swooped her up, just like in the books,
And on his stallion they rode away.

My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel.
My love is like a storybook story.
But it's as real as the feelings I feel;
it's as real as the feelings I feel

Correction. My love was like a storybook story. It was as real as the feelings I felt.

Now, along with the gorgeously hued leaves on the trees, all of that is falling away, and dying...

Do You Sleep?

Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?
Do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore?
Do you sleep anymore?

I do, Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories, thanks for asking. And when I do, apropos of how it seems you were feeling when you wrote this song, I sometimes, as I did last night, dream of being with my now ex as if we were still together.

Lemme tell you, this makes for a challenging wake-up, a challenging feeling rolling out of bed, and tears at the ready for the better part of the morning as I come back to the reality that it is over.

And now, back to Lisa:

Do you take plight on my tongue like lead?
Do you fall gracefully into bed anymore?
I saw you as you walked across my room.
You looked out the window, you looked at the moon.
And you sat on the corner of my bed, and
you smoked with the ghost in the back of my head.
And I don't know, and I don't care
If I ever will see you again.
I don't know, and I don't care
If I ever will be there.
Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?
Do you sleep, do you keep me anymore?
You kick my foot under the table,
I kick you back;
I can't say I'm able to
Stand for you or
Fall for you ever again.
Wish for a perfect setting?
Wishing that I am letting you
Take me where you want me
All over again?
You can't give yourself absolutely to someone else.
And I don't know, and I don't care
If I ever will see you again.
I don't know, and I don't care
If I ever will be there.
I saw you as you walked across my room.
You looked out the window, you looked at the moon.
And you sat on the corner of my bed, and
You smoked with the ghost in the back of my head.
Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?
Do you sleep, do you count sheep anymore?
Do you sleep anymore?
I don't know, and I don't care
If I ever will be there.

This Old Man

I keep this photo next to my bed - I'm about 4 years old here

God knows what's going on with my subconscious, but I'm up in the wee hours with this song from my childhood on repeat:

This old man, he plays one
He plays knick knack on my thumb
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays two
He plays knick knack on my shoe
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays three
He plays knick knack on my knee
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays four
He plays knick knack on my door
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays five
Don't play knick knack on that hive
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays six
He plays knick knack on my sticks
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays seven
He plays knick knack up in heaven
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays eight
He plays knick knack on my gate
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays nine
He plays knick knack on my vine
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

This old man, he plays ten
He plays knick knack all over again
With a knick knack paddy wack
Give a dog a bone
This old man comes rolling home

Strange. Can't really explain it, other than that two days ago I did a guided meditation where people from your childhood who you need to forgive or who need to forgive you show up. The people who showed up for me were not the ones I'd have expected. Not my sister or any of my close friends, but other kids from my neighborhood and/or elementary school.

My lower back really hurts too - another reason for the early morning wakeup, and also pain that can be connected to the inner child.

I love you little Sarah, now go back to sleep please!

September

This is one of those songs that I never really knew the words to, though I've heard it on and off over the past few decades:

Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Love was changin' the minds of pretenders
While chasin' the clouds away
Our hearts were ringin' in the key that our souls were singin'
As we danced in the night, remember
How the stars stole the night away, oh yeah

Hey, hey, hey!
Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya, dancin' in September
Ba-dee-ya, never was a cloudy day

Ba-du-da, ba-du-da, ba-du-da, ba-du
Ba-du-da, ba-du, ba-du-da, ba-du
Ba-du-da, ba-du, ba-du-da

My thoughts are with you, holdin' hands with your heart to see you
Only blue talk and love, remember
How we knew love was here to stay
Now December, found the love that we shared in September
Only blue talk and love, remember, the true love we share today

Hey, hey, hey!
Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya, dancin' in September
Ba-dee-ya, never was a cloudy day
There was a…
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), dancin' in September
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), golden dreams were shiny days

The bell was ringin', oh, oh
Our souls were singin'
Do you remember never a cloudy day? Yow

There was a
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), dancin' in September
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), never was a cloudy day
And we'll say
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya (Dee-ya, dee-ya), dancin' in September
Ba-dee-ya (Dee ya, dee-ya), golden dreams were shiny days

I never even knew it was called September, and I definitely cannot say, on this, the last day of September 2019, that this was my experience of this month.

So many of the days were clouded with the difficult feelings that have come up as I face the fact that a romantic relationship I hoped would be my last is now another space of learning and growing that I am left to do alone.

I know that it won't always be this way, but it's gonna take a while for me to feel peace about the way things are, and even longer before dancin', golden dreams, and shiny days are here again...

The Promise

Listening to Spotify on my Wonderboom on a rainy Sunday, and what to my wondering ears should appear but this gorgeous number:

If you wait for me
Then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart

If you think of me
If you miss me once in awhile
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

If you dream of me
Like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting

I've longed for you
And I have desired
To see your face your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
Please say you'll be waiting

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise
If it's one that you can keep
I vow to come for you
If you wait for me

And say you'll hold
A place for me
In your heart

A place for me in your heart
A place for me in your heart
A place for me in your heart

I have no doubt there is a place for me in the New Englander's heart, and for him in mine. There will always be a place.

For me though, it's not about waiting, or contemplating getting back together.

It's about me doing the work of forgiveness, to face the gargantuan disappointment I feel about our romantic relationship ending and the reasons for that, and becoming willing to let that go.

I'm not ready yet, but I am doing the work, and I will get there...