Author: Flickeringdedications

How do you know?

Because you feel sure.

What if you’ve felt sure a thousand times before and every single fucking time you’re wrong?

I’ve had a life that I’ve known a lot of faces. There’s a reason that I’m terrible with names. I’ve had so many people trespass into my life, take my trust and show me how terrible I am at judging a person. I’ve had family come and go, toss me aside like I’ve never shared DNA with them. I’ve lost count of the friends I’ve made, to only realise once again, I was wrong in judging a persons character. The worst was him though. I thought I had gotten it right. Put my faith into one human. Trusted this individual with my soul. What a colossal fuck up. For someone that tries their best to avoid the ripping feeling in their chest, the all over despair, the crushing weight of gloom that eclipses you when you lose a person. I seem to be also addicted to the feeling of loss.

Then what happens when the opportunity comes to trusting a new person?

My chest locked up, I felt the weight of each pain in my past on my chest and arms. My throat tightened and I felt light headed. How did I get to the point of a physical reaction to trusting a new person? My past is unavoidable and consistently proven inconvenient to life. Succumbing to the statistics attached to a person in my case is not a fate I’d like to face. When someone like me finds someone good, they inevitably destroy the relationship systematically because a healthy relationship is too alien for them to understand.

I know the years of therapy in front of me to learn how to love myself and allow others in. Why didn’t time know this?

Fuck.

I always thought parents were meant to love you unconditionally and try every day to understand how to help their child. That they’ll do everything in their power to make sure their child smiles.

So what happens if you’re born to parents who don’t do this?

What happens if you as the child need to understand your parents, to know best how to talk to them. My whole life I was able to watch a parent’s unconditional love, watch a parent bend over backwards and try their best to make their child’s life easier.

Every day I watched as my step-mother did all she could to help her children. Every day I felt the pang of loss at losing my own mother. Because I hoped that my mum would have done this for me. She would have tried every day to understand me and the pain I’ve experienced.

My step-mum has done wonderful things for my family, she’s cared for us when we’ve made her life hell. But I’ve never felt understood by her, or felt like she’s tried. I held this against her growing up, till I was able to realise how hard it was for her. How hard she must have worked. The pain she’s experienced, and the hardships she’s gone through. I just wish she tried to understand how hard it was for me. I wish she thought about the struggles I face each day. I wish that she loved me unconditionally like I’ve watch her love her children. I wish that she wanted to see me each week for dinner, like she does her own children. I wish that had hugged me as much as what she hugs my niece now. I wish she understood my pain, as she understands my nieces. I wish I had photo’s of me in her home, like she has of her children and my niece. I wish that she respected and was proud of what I’ve achieved in my career, instead of doubting everything I say. Most of all I wish that she would never accept when I don’t speak to her. I wish that I meant enough that she wouldn’t ignore me, as I know she would never do to her own children. I’ve watched as her children and step-granddaughter talk down to her, don’t respect her, but no matter what, she will always love them. I wish she loved me just like that.

I’ve watched as my dad has struggled with his mental health. At each point I’ve tried to have a smile for him, tell him I love him and try to be positive for the both of us. I don’t like asking for help from him, because I would hate to burden him. I’ve watched as my selfish siblings have demanded time and time again from him. I’ve tried to make plans with my dad, but he’s cancelled. I try telling him I love him each time I see him, but he forgets to say it back. I’ve tried offering help with his mental health, and I’ve watched him ignore my own mental health problems.

I’ve listened to him want to make plans with the people who’ve hurt me. I’ve listened to him ask why his other children don’t want to see him. I’ve listened to his stories and watched as he’s ignored what I’ve said. I’ve watched as my friends have their parents take care of them when they are sick, but my father instead asks me to do chores when I can barely get out of bed. I’ve watched as my father made plans with my family for my own graduation to have dinner and left me out of those plans.

I’ve watched  completely jealous of my own siblings and friends. Watched how proud their parents are, how much love they receive and how their parents have all the time in the world for them. I’ve tried to understand both of mine, why I don’t get those traditional things that parents do. I’ve tried loving them unconditionally. But I’m the last on their list. I’m not privileged to their time. They will never understand me and my pain. I will never have my parents award the same time and effort they put into their other children, even the drop kicks. I won’t ever be loved unconditionally by them.

Instead I’ll be expected to stand tall and told to get over it.

I’ll be able to thank them for my independence and strength. I’ll be able to thank them for making me the woman I am today. But that is all I have left to give them, is a thank-you. Because I’ve had enough of understanding people who should understand me. Who should love me unconditionally. Who should be the fucking parent.

I’m done trying with the people who will never put the same effort that I put into them. Parent’s should be exceeding the effort their child puts in. I’m done trying to put in more effort.

I’m done making excuses for them.

I’m done chasing my parents love and acceptance.

She listened to the rain tapping on her window and looked at the empty space next to her on the bed. She’d just woken up in the early hours of the morning, fresh from another nightmare. This nightmare though wasn’t like her normal ones.. The scary ones.. This one was different.

She had woken up crying..

Her dream was of the man she’d lost, finding his new love. A love that had absolute nothing to do with her. Her friends were even there,  but they didn’t understand her, she was the issue after all. A problem. She was to blame. She did all this, didn’t she? The dream changes. She’s getting her belongings and driving away as fast as she can. It was her fault, how could she have let her friends believe it wasn’t?

She was wrong to feel unhappy as she’d said, because look how happy he was now.

She was wrong to feel unappreciated as she’d told them, because look how much he appreciated his new muse.

She was definitely wrong about feeling unloved, because look how much he loves her now.

She was the problem, burden, issue and everything else her doubts had whispered to her. It was her fault why he hadn’t loved her like she’d begged. It was her fault why she wasn’t appreciated, she already took so much time and energy. It was her fault why they were miserable, unhappy and depressed. Her depression caught him and swallowed him up. Her anxiety made sure that he couldn’t stand, always making him unstable. It was all her fault. It was all her.

As the dream continued; she got in her car and drove to the ocean.

She always had this part planned, saved in the back of her brain.

The car stopped and she walked to the waters edge, she waded in and swam. Then kept swimming. The water felt like balm on her skin. The further she went out, the more of a pull she felt. When her arms gave out, she floated and kept floating. When her vision went dark, she accepted the comforting blanket of peace being wrapped around her..

Finally.

What she hadn’t expected was to accept her vision back, with a stark contrast to the darkness and all sense of peace wiped clear. She woke in a bright room with noise and business all around her. Someone had found her, saved her. She was lying in a hospital. Feeling as far as possible from the peace she’d found, and entirely consumed by pain.

What she hadn’t expected was the fury awaiting at the foot of her bed. When she saw his face, she trembled. His eyes were blazing and twisted, he couldn’t believe what an idiot she’d been, how much attention does she need? As he kept going, she tried shutting her eyes and ignoring his presence. Eventually the nurses came and they ushered him away. She was alone again.

She woke up, tears streaming down her face. A dream that had nothing but despair and anger. She looked to the space next to her, that was now empty since she’d walked out on him. This dream was all of her doubts rolled into one; was she just a burden? Did she deserve to be loved and appreciated? Was she always just too much for him to handle?

Depression wanted to cover her in a soft blanket to cocoon her mind. She refused to accept this though, and instead let the doubts slowly dribble down out of her mind. She got up, turned on her music and began her healing processes to survive yet another day..

Without him..

Without their life together..

How do you make a choice in a world of overwhelming possibilities? What do you do when something seems right but at the same time it doesn’t?

Do you ever have this feeling, when you have a an event on. You’ve known for awhile. But for some reason, on the night you don’t want to go anymore? It seemed right beforehand, but now.. Do you ignore this reason and still go?

What happens when you’ve bought a new dress, it looked good in the shop, but when you try it on at home, it just doesn’t look right. It’s the colour you love, the style you love, but it just doesn’t feel right now when you wear it. Do you ignore that feeling and still wear it?

What about if you’ve made dinner, it’s taken hours. You’ve checked the taste throughout the whole process. But once it’s on your plate, it just doesn’t taste right. Do you ignore the odd little taste and still eat it?

What if you’ve chosen something in your life, something you thought was right. Something you thought you knew you wanted, you were sure of it. But now. Now, it just doesn’t feel right.

And what if you don’t know how to make it feel right anymore? What if you don’t know who to ask, and what to do? Do you continue with something that on paper seems like it should be perfect? Or do you trust the little voice in the back of your head telling you to run, to run as fast as you can?

Do you run or do you ignore the little voice of doubt and do what is right?

Take a chance or risk falling after taking flight?

Unappreciation.

It’s the epidemic that is terrorising the hearts of and souls of so many people around the world. I am a teacher, and that is pretty much in the job description. We are constantly told; it is a thankless job. I didn’t realise that I had actually been training for this aspect of the job my entire life.

My father is a man that I respect so highly because of his ability to live life with debilitating mental health issues. But throughout my life I had to sacrifice my ability to feel love from my dad.

He wasn’t able to because he was sick.

We couldn’t do this because of his sickness.

I had to understand because of his sickness.

I remember being a child, and my step-mum had to actually push him to spend time with me. We didn’t do much, just bounced balls back to each-other and talked. The specialness of this moment was tainted with the fact, I knew this wasn’t his choice. It was reinforced when I grew up with my siblings who tore my family apart and caused myself and my dad an endless amount of pain. My dad would tell me how much he wanted to go and have coffee with them. Spend time with them. See them. Love them.

Not the daughter who loved him unconditionally.

Not the daughter who would make him dinner. Clean the house and spend each day living with him and loving him.

I’ve chased this feeling my whole life. Giving to people who don’t give back. Loving people who don’t love me back. Chasing a feeling that I’ll always end up short finding.

One day I’ll be loved. Just the way I want.

But most importantly.

One day I hope to love my dad, just like I used to; unconditionally.

Why is it that when your hand is holding a pencil, and your brain says to let go, your hand does? It’s because the brain has made a command and the body has to listen. That’s the brains job and that’s the body’s job. So who’s job is it to tell the brain what to do and for the brain to listen? Who’s job is it to tell the brain to let go and for the brain to listen? When has your brain ever actually listened to your commands? When you’ve told yourself to stop crying, did you? When you’ve told yourself to just do it, did you? Did your brain actually listen. If so, congratulations you are the 1% of the human population that was designed to give the other 99% hope. Hope that they too might actually be in control of their mind. But then people say that it takes time. It’s a daily mission with consistent and regular commands.

I tell my brain to let go. Daily.

I tell my brain to let go and be happy. Daily.

I tell my brain to let go, be happy and forget the pain from another time. Daily.

Daily. Daily I do the same exercises. Then after awhile, I give up. Then I’m told to not give up and that time will fix all wounds. Again. I just want to know though, how long do I have to allow? How much time will it take? Because I’ve been waiting along time for this to ease, for those longing pains to decrease. All that has happened, is that I have more distractions than I did before to keep me from thinking about it every second of every day. Is that what people mean when they say “give it time”. Do they mean you’ll just get distracted long enough to get through the day? They mustn’t mean that my brain will actually start listening to the consistent background hum of myself chanting over and over

“Let go..”

Adeline felt the music move through her body. The wine seeped into her blood stream making it easier and easier to slip into the oblivion she was destined to tangle with tonight. She made a regular effort on the weekend to make no effort at all and just experience. Feel. Be there. She allowed the music that was being played on stage, with thousands of people in between herself and someone’s exhilaration of sharing their creative expression. The vocalist just ripped a note to part, giving it grit and a meaning that sent goose bumps up Della’s leg. In this moment Della became a singular uncoordinated being, dancing to someone else’s passionate ramblings. She forgot everything she was supposed to remember. She forgot in that moment that she had work piling on her desk, a crumbling relationship and a family that she had no idea what to do with. In that one performance, she was able to let go. Of all the pressures that stalked her in her day to day life. It decimated the concerns of an anxious woman who constantly placed her relationship on the precipice of failure and success.

It was just being.

No concerns. No worries.

Hakuna fucking matata

She watched the friends that danced around her. They had expressions of pure ecstasy scribbled on their face. The excitement of the night playing across their face, creating goose bumps on Della’s skin once again. What could possibly top this? Dancing with her friends, to a singer that has encapsulated her mind and body.

Perfection.

Indescribable.

Joy. Simply, joy.

If only every night and day could withstand such indescribable moments..

Adeline walked to the waters edge. She looked at the ducks gliding across the surface. They were creating ripples that mirrored their movements. There was a beep coming from inside her jacket pocket that broke her from her thoughts. Her step-mum was out of character for allowing her to go for a walk , however she still had to check up to see where she was and when she would be coming home. Adeline, whose family called her Della, sighed. However not before remembering, that she should be feeling lucky for even being allowed to walk to the park that had a pond 10 minutes from her home. Her parents didn’t exactly have a relaxed set of house rules. She needed to compose herself before walking back home, she couldn’t allow her step-brother and sister to read the emotions that had drawn themselves all over her face. This had been the only reason that she was provided permission to go for this minor release of freedom. Her parents would rather argue with both siblings as to why she was out on a walk, than explain the emotions that had cemented themselves onto Della’s face.

She began the walk back to the house, taking her time. Della knew she shouldn’t push her parents too far, but at the same time why not? After what they had just laid on her, swearing her to secrecy. She wouldn’t be allowed to tell anyone, not even her siblings. God forbid they actually hear something upsetting for once. Della was the youngest out of a very messy and complicated family of five. She had an older brother and sister that her family didn’t have much to do with. Then there was her older step brother and sister, Michael and Sarah, who lived with her. Her father had married a woman, Carrie, years after her mother had died. Della had her troubles with Carrie in the past, but she had just begun to build a relationship with her. They now had a tradition of cooking stir-fry’s, making pizzas or whatever else on Saturdays with her, when her step siblings were away with their dad. Della pushed this line of thought out of her mind and turned the music that was playing through her headphones, all the way up. No need to think of such things right now. She needed to focus. Level her emotions, stay calm and set her face into a blank expression.

She was ready for the onslaught of questions from her step-siblings. What they didn’t expect was how casually their younger sister shrugged her shoulders and pushed past them to her room. Michael and Sarah dropped it, they had enough experience with their younger sister, keeping secrets from them. The entire time since Della had come to live with them was a long string of Michael and Sarah getting left out of conversations, and getting told it’s Della’s family and to leave be. Della’s family was filled with problems and secrets, they had met her older siblings and that was enough for them both to know to leave be.

Della opened the door to her room and when she turned, Michael and Sarah had already moved away. They had lost interest in making multiple attempts to try and find things out from Della a long time ago. Unfortunately Della always had to keep secrets, she supposed that’s why her parents told her this time. She sat down on her bed, and picked up the picture that she had dropped on the floor before she had left. It was a dark wood that framed the photograph inside. The people in the photo were smiling from ear to ear, completely oblivious to how short lived this would be. The photograph was taken only a couple of months ago, while they had been at dinner one night. Her step-siblings and herself smiling with her parents. This would be the last photo of her family still together, her parents had decided to divorce. Her father and herself would move out as soon as they found a new place. Her new family – normal family – that woke up and ate breakfast together. The new siblings that she could have stupid arguments with, always about whose turn it was to play on their play station. Her new mother, that taught her to cook. Carrie had taken Della in when her mother had died, she had taken care of her.

Della put the picture down, set her face into the blank expression. It wasn’t like saying good-bye was new to her..

I hear his tone change.

I see his face change.

I feel his hugs are not the same..

At some point in time everyone has to face the feeling of rejection, of being unwanted. It was told to her that everyone faces it, it’s normal even. She couldn’t understand though how this feeling was meant to be normal. Each and every time it crushed her. The feeling of rejection was rooted in her mind. She watched as he pulled away. He pulled away from her like everyone else had, only ever after they’ve realised how much work goes into this girl. She was an onion, with layer after layer, each layer switched between negativity and positivity; a perfect imbalance. It was not the cohesive relationship of yin and yang, there was no balance in this partnership as her negativity picked apart her positivity. She would switch so much between them that it gave those around her whip lash. One day she would be communicating the sun’s delight at meeting the earth. The next she could have the fury of a summer storm. It made her unpredictable, unable to tame, a complete hypocrite and a worse mess. She could make a stable man feel as if he was sea sick standing on land. She was the Moby Dick to anyone crazy enough to try and catch her. She may kill him in the process, but it’s his blind ignorance to his danger that made him perfect.

Till he wasn’t ignorant any more.

She had held on for so long, continuing to dream that someone could swim with her through all of life’s storms. She had gone through family members that couldn’t handle looking at the sadness and anger that dwelled in her depths. Friends had come and gone, never able to keep up or choosing to walk away. Life had been lonely since she could remember. Never really fitting in or being loved with no guilt or requests to change. The feeling of rejection was common. She was left alone when someone didn’t know what to say to make it better. Or abandoned for her mistakes.

He would be added to the list of aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, friends and boyfriends who had given up pretending to understand. Her quirks they said they loved, till they didn’t. Her encompassing depression that swallowed everyone close, just like the sink holes that destroys homes.. However if they somehow managed to succeed in escaping the darkness, her quaking anxiety will surely scare them back to safety..

She never knew what to say. Maybe that’s what the missing element was all along, if she knew what to say, if she didn’t say such bizarre things when she was lost for words. Maybe then. They wouldn’t leave..

She pumped her fist in the air. She loved this song. She continued to jump around to her favourite producer at the moment. Only a couple of hours ago, she was sitting in bed miserable that she would be missing this! None of her friends wanted to see this producer and they had made other plans. In vain she had kept her night free wishing that she knew someone going. After she had accepted that she wouldn’t be going, someone had messaged her asking if she wanted to go with them.

YES!

She had gotten ready in a rush and pulled on her favourite little mermaid crop and paired it with some leather hot pants. She had been saving this crop for a special occasion. But it wasn’t the producer that was the special occasion. It was for the person who had asked her to join him. She had met him a couple of weeks previously and couldn’t get a read on him. She was beginning to think he wasn’t interested in her. It was time to show him, why he should be interested! As she danced she considered this, as she peeked up at him through her eyelashes.

God, he was beautiful.

He moved casually to the music, he was smiling and had his eyes shut. She took the opportunity to stare at him for longer than she should. He was wearing a singlet, that let you see his muscular arms. He had long eyelashes and a smile that made her melt. But he was so collected and calm. She thought about their night so far and winced, she hadn’t exactly kept it cool. He had been buying her drinks, and with each sip was starting to feel like a silly school girl. He didn’t give anything away though. She made a promise to herself to calm down and if he didn’t want her, that was okay, at least she saw this producer. She let the music carry her away from her thoughts.

They had been dancing for awhile now, his friends had already gone up to the balcony and he motioned her to follow. They weaved their way through the crowd till they got to the stair case. He opened the door for her then followed her in. The staircase was empty and as she began walking up to where his friends were, he caught her hand and pulled her into him. Could it be?

She landed into his chest and peeked up into his eyes. They were a burning brown that made her rely on him holding her up. This stolen moment could have lasted a lifetime. He broke the silence and he whispered excitedly “I just want to try something”. He leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss that followed she would remember even on her last days on earth..