A Note From The Writer



Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Weather The Storm


This post may seem like poetry to some but it is not intended for that purpose. It's a personal analogy that comes to me without warning, a very vivid thought process that insists upon being heard. So tonight, I am entertaining this voice within by letting the words type themselves. No edits. No proofing. Just me. Tonight, I write for me.

In fact, I am not expecting anyone reading along should understand this entry; as it has many obscure references and romanticisms about my personal life and the inner turmoil of my most painful memories. It is for my benefit, a memoir just for me and if you do understand it , then that is even better.. It says a lot about me , should you have any questions you can ask me via the usual methods. It was imperative to me that I wrote it out (my feelings) to get it out there, not in my head and not in my life.
Goodbye nightmare.
It was an intense ride, for a moment I thought I loved you. I almost believed I would live out my life with you forever. But as I write this memoir , I will release it into it's own beauty. May it dance from the pages and flitter into untold imagination. Living is breathing - Healing is optional. So it is with melancholy, I am hoping this kills you, otherwise I am truly lost to your feverish grip as I toil beneath the moonlight, entangled in sweaty sheets, forever. We both know that this will not happen. Your time has arrived, I am taking the power back. Memoir of pain, you are strong.....so very strong and powerful.
But you will not destroy me. It is you that will surrender, not I.
Begone.



Ocean done
I have just been trying to sleep and I can't. This has been going on for weeks - maybe even months. It helps if I write it all down and release it from my mind's carousel of recollection.
In fact I think I have to. Where am I , I think. I am not quite asleep, not quite awake. I drift into a lullaby that's the first moment of sleep, an uncertain timespace of alternating calm or worry. Will it ever release me to a place of safe keeping ? This landscape I built from my memories and thoughts, this is where the scene is set every night that I visit this place.

I share it with you now, but I wish you could just close your eyes as I tell you exactly how I see it. But you still have to read, so that is unfortunate. Maybe you have a place of your very own; that resembles all your vulnerabilities, your fears that configure the landscape of your own private nightmare ? Maybe this world amongst worlds is one you may never know too well, you may visit time in and time out ? But I am there right now, so let me show you....

I am standing on an isolated beach. In fact, I think no one has been here in this lifetime, it was created entirely for these moments within myself. Picture the universal elements with my solitary image standing alone, barefoot at the shoreline. Great sweeping bays of golden sands and crescents of foaming waves, calm yet relentlessly surging then retracting. Ebb and Flow. This beach created by my mind is controlled entirely by my feelings, I cannot explain to you exactly how to get there - I can only show you how I feel - when I am there. It is the best and the worst of places. Your mind is like a magic parade of paradox; endless rolling plains of fantasy and hope yet peppered with deep chasms of unknown misery and reality , you were born into your mind and so it became you. The endless struggle for power over your mind begins and ends with ever only a single thought. You.

I am wearing an ink black, full length dress, it encases my slender frame as the wind moulds thin fabric to my curves. My hair, shoulder length, flurries about my face from the relentless wind. It assaults my hearing, strands of hair whip across my face leaving the slightest sting, yet my blue eyes never stray from gazing towards the horizon. Hypnotised by the burning embers of a tireless sun in its center, I'm entranced by its elusiveness and the sheer magnitude of how much we want what we just can't have. To always want something so powerful and magnificent is entirely human yet we are never physically able to grasp it with our hands. This fiery ball of hope burns brightly in distance. Sometimes it seems almost too far away to feel its warmth. I have not been held for a long time. My limbs have stopped feeling cold and empty,they now remain useless like broken toys. They hang beside me now, unimportant and invalid. I can see so much more beauty by just using my eyes. I don't want to embrace anyone into the nightmare; it is not about having company or beauty I can hold to my gaping soul as the creature struggles for it's own survival against my own damage and ruin.
In nightmares you are always faced with the dillema of yourself.
The voice you hear first, is your own. The anguish is something personal and real, yet it's this same inner voice that wakes you. It tells you that it is ok, it was just a nightmare. Then, you continue to live out your life with your hopes and dreams becoming reality. The nightmare is relegated to the very back corner of your mind, becoming fantasy . I dare you to ponder this;
What if it was real?
What if your nightmares really happened when you were awake?
What if you woke up and nothing changed? What if your dreams could never come true?

In this place I don't have conversations. I have not spoken to anyone as there is not a soul to talk to. It's one of those places where if left alone to wander, you will almost go crazy from the silence. You're almost certain you can hear its whisper. Your mind, your own private hell. No one else can hear you. I cannot forget nor can I believe what I did. Even still, what I do. What have I become? I need time and clarity to re-evaluate my existence. When I do this, my mind fills in the sequences of emotion and recovery from pain. This is where we arrive, in this place of despair.

The ocean is mint green, frothing and ebbing at my feet, like a baby dragon cooing for attention. All I want is to feel the peace, to just let the wind embrace me in its raging oblivion.
Then....
I let my mind wander and my life unravelled. A face. A word. A place. I recall the things I did, things I didn't ever want to do. I think of how that made me feel. I get angry. I get frightened.
I get snapped out of my numb shellshock and I unleash a storm of emotion. With the first synapse of pain that rises in my consciousness, a small ripple breaks the calm of the lurking dragon sea. Like dominoes on the cascade, images, faces and feelings start to topple and as they crash around me with each panicked breath, the waves of regret start to crest, swell and pound. I want to face the waves, then control them. The more I struggle to control how I remember, the more the waves intensify with soulful creaking of deep currents. The water becomes cold like black ice, I can't see the horizon any more.
Just the monsterous waves, battling like ancient sumo wrestlers turning upon themselves, pummeling into the shorebreak.

I am submerged in the memoir now , I cannot control it. When would that day ever come? Not now and not then. I'm entranced by my own desire to understand this beast, this ocean of regret. I start to submerge myself as I work my way through the waves, pressing my body into the salty darkness of the swell.
Huge surges of remembrance tug on my skin, desperately trying to bring me down to its of watery valley death. The ice cold water floods mercilessly into my lungs. All I can taste are my salty tears and I know I have gone too far. My feet can no longer find the bottom, they scramble for sanity or a foundation based in reality. I should be able to control the waves to make them calm and safe again - but for this terrifying moment I am fighting to live through this - I remember the loved ones that I had, their lifeless corpses now at rest on the ocean floor. I'm pulled under the waves again and again. Let him go. Let them go. Release or Die? I always think one more time and I too will die. But I surprise myself. Lost amongst the swollen booming waves, I look up to the sky, now boysenberry and flashing with sheets of lightning. Thunder is the only sound to accompany the seething waves. I scream. However, not so you can hear me. I don't need attention from anyone else. I scream because it makes me scream. It's not happy until I do.

The endless assault of the soaring waves tire me. Everytime I try to recall what others told me to become in order to stay afloat , it only hampers my survival. It knows me and it knows what I really think. Other peoples hopes are but heavy weights to maintain in the face of this unbridled fury. I am cloaked in my normality and my flaws when what I really expect from myself is to rise
above the waves and saunter into shore. I dream for this eternally .... yet I drown for another moment. Hope is not enough. Surely this isn't how it ends?

The sky dark and mysterious, is only lit by occasional lighting but I don't
need to scan for someone coming to save me - I am all alone. No one has
ever been here to safe me, so I am not frightened of being alone.
I think I have what it takes to survive. This is a test but I hold the answers.
I control the waves and it is not only about the past. It is all about now. I have to live for every moment, including this one. That is the one thought that keeps my head buoyant above the liquid depths of my pain and suffering, and its power and strength delivers me back to the cold hard sand of the shore. How quickly I was swept out to sea, so fast yet returned in yet another instant of undertanding.
The salt stings my throat, my eyes and I taste the memory that I survived, sharp in the deep recess of not only my screams , but somewhere much deeper inside me.

Why do I push so hard ? Because I need to. I want to ride the waves one day, I want to surf amongst its power without fear; to enjoy the ride upon its marvellous back. Yet that is not my limit, I want beyond that. The only way
left to go is forward , the ride may be smooth or perilous, but with only
practise I will be able to master the currents. I have heard stories about that place just beyond the curling and unfurling waves, the Horizon.
A place of surrender you can trust here. You can trust yourself in this place that everything will be ok, you can just be you and that is the single most amazing thing that you can be. Unique. Happy. Satisfied. This land that lies behind the ocean of nightmares, please don't tell me it is just a land of "Sweet Dreams"?

I let the sun dry out my saturated clothes and heat its way through to my skin , a subtle reminder of the warmth that awaits discovery. As I resume my gaze
into the horizon, my eye catches on a brief sparkle, a prism of light peeking through the storm clouds. I hold a hand across my face, I need to shield my eyes
from the burst of glory that explodes before my virgin eyes. It captures my breath as it bursts into magnificence in a magical shared moment and then disappears, only then do I blink. As I close my eyes, I take in the darkness and relive the sunburst again. I have it inside me now and I hope just a little bit more that this can happen. I realise I am dreaming. I am finally dreaming.
I know it exists for I close my eyes and I see it often - that glimmer of fire after the storm - I believe it is a thing called 'love'.

HG

I will try to go to sleep now. It's very late.
Goodnight. I will see you on the other side.
That's a promise that I have always managed to keep.

Still awake. 3.34 But happy with this now, thanks for listening ;)

13 comments:

Scribe said...

Dear HG:

I'm commenting for the first time, though I've been reading for, well, months now. Your courage floors me. This is a particularly beautiful post. Your imagery is really well done and expressive. But, I think you've let The Cure's "Edge of the Deep Green Sea" get too far into your head. A while back you wrote about how you loved that song so much. Now, in dreams, you are telling yourself what you need to do, using that song as the language to communicate it. That said, you'll never get to the other side of the ocean in your dream (where you need to go), if you keep fighting the waves. They'll keep throwing you back on this shore (your past, where you've been), until you surrender to them. Rough, but I think it's true.

Love your smile, too.

HeroineGirl said...

I like that song because of this imagery.
I have been sitting on this for months, lol!
When I heard the song, it made me feel better about it.
Thanks for the comments, this is not a dream I have but a thought process, more like a living sigh that whistles through my mind.......
I am still up, trying to free myself from it.
I am awake, not asleep.

Anonymous said...

Hiya, it's Peri, posting as "anonymous" as she can't remember her password! Good huh? Anyways, you are are as awesome as always... the wave metaphor would have never occurred to me (being a city junkie and all), but your writing has, as always, swept me away (no wave pun intended!) ... truly, I have seen a development in your writing which defies description.
If you don't get published soon, I shall have to take to the steets and get you published myself...

Yours ever,
Peri

Brandie said...

You amaze me anew with your writing talent, honey. I'm in awe of you. :)

Mumr Calamus said...

Well, Once again you have managed to state things with words that in anothers hands and head would be but lead bags thrown out as ballast. You are so amazing. Keep it up.

sarajb said...

Hey HG, I’ve skipped around and read quite a few of your passionate posts. Like this one. Good stuff.

I’m officially letting you know that I’m linking you to me (sound dirty doesn’t it?), because I was told it was lame to announce it. I’m spiteful that way.

Keep up the good work. I’ll keep reading.

HeroineGirl said...

Thank you to mumur and brandie and unomee and Peri and new person ! Unomee has a wonderful post on her blog at the moment, if I had the top ten still - this would be at number one, this is my site of the day.
I love this girls style, totally fucking brilliant.
This is what blogging is all about, for the things you just never said aloud, because it couldn't be beautiful unless someone heard it. Just anybody, if if it was your own self, reading back the words..filling in the blanks.

HG

Rambling Rene said...

HG is always the last blog I read at night. Saving the best for last.
Mwah, darling!

me said...

All the best to you from Northern Maine, USA. Growing up on a small farm in the midwestern US with a school teacher mother and a romantic gentle farmer father ---- I found that many little bits of wisdom came my way. One thing I remember my mother telling me was that poetry is for the writer. The bonus is that someone out there in the world might read it and comment. I shall put into practice what she said. I enjoyed your writing and will return. A grand aspect of the internet is here -- at this moment -- the focus of two complete strangers on words - thoughts shared -- from their soul. Plato said "Thinking is the talking of the soul." Keep thinking ---- and keep sharing. Bye.

Sk8RN said...

I felt totally haunted by my past for a long time. I wanted to exorcise my past from my present. I even changed my name to make the break from my old self official. It has been a long journey; a painful, haultingly slow attempt to amputate my past. But now I try to view that self with a loving compassion. Sympathy and understanding. There are still days the past makes my stomach turn. A memory I'd successfully blocked out would pop back up. But mostly, I accept my life as it has been. I hope you find peace with your past. Thank you for sharing your journey. You're an inspiration.

sarajb said...

The post before mine is a tough act to follow. You attract some beautiful people, HG, which says a lot about you.

You know, the high percentage of kindness and overall humanity in the blogworld has taken me by surprise. It's a very different arena.

Thank you, again, heroinegirl.

deanne said...

You know your emotions are depicted by water in your dreams, so I find this post really interesting.

So you wanting to control the waves for example, is wanting to have control of your emotions - rough seas, crashing waves = emotional turmoil, and so on and so forth.

I know you said this wasn't a "dream" per se, but just a thought nonetheless.

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