Off my Chest

There is something about relationships that i don't understand; why is it so much easier to be in a relationship that is going to end? I know some people who slide in and out of healthy relationships with potential, they don't need to always be challenged, they don't want what they can't have, they don't need someone to always keep them on their toes and they don't have commitment and/or dependency issues. I have never been one of these people, and the men i end up with, are never of these people either....
What irritates me most is my knowledge that as i end up in these relationships, then i must be choosing these relationships, and to my own horror; i must be enjoying them... Why?
Why would an independent together adult need so much turbulence, so much drama, so much irresponsibility of endings, so much fear of risking to actually have to be with someone forever?
I classically want the unpredictable and unstable, as i know the one thing i can depend on them for is that they will want to leave eventually, hence saving me from ever having to think about a future, and more importantly, keeping my image of myself as the reliable one in tact. How messed up is that?
Instead of seeing the relationship for what it is, instead of going for something real; i dream, i enjoy the now and secretly wish for change, no part of me believes in this change, but it is so much easier to be hopeful and act delusional, knowing every date could be the last, every day everything could fall apart, and one day soon that person will be gone forever.
I think i need help.
I have wondered why i am like this for years, i have observed me and scrutinized me, many explanations by books and others presented themselves:

"you don't know how to enjoy your own company": so i moved to a country with no one there but me and spent 8 months alone, remedied the situation? No, and i discovered that i loved my own company.

"you don't love yourself enough": hmmmm... but i think i'm the shit.. i think i'm always right.. i am secretly obnoxious and arrogant and can't be bothered with most people... how can i not love myself enough??

"It's the absence of a father in your life since you were six": possibly, probably, but tough luck, what could i possibly do about that now???

I think i figured it out eventually, but you see that is not enough, that's the first step, so now that you know why you are fucked up, why you have bizarre behavioural patterns, now that you have realized just how destructive you are, and why, does that make you any less of it? Nope, it just makes you horribly aware of it, and you watch yourself making your bad choices, and ultimately you don't want to, or at least the part of you that suffered the consequences doesn't want to, and every other part of you does, and it turns into a lose-lose situation; you either act as destructively as you do and feel guilty towards yourself, or do the right thing and be miserable that you are not doing what you desire.... That was a horrible phase, then came doing something about it...

Ok, easy, I am going to change. I will make responsible choices and begin with the end in mind. I will not lead myself into hopeless situation of rush and lust and the pretense of passionate love.
Let me tell you this, after seven years of rush and lust and the pretense of passionate love and the struggle with the pain and drama, life becomes very boring with change. Everyone i met from that decision onwards who was allegedly a "responsible choice", bored me to a slow death. I tried to fight myself, to be open minded, to give it a chance, all to no avail, in an unrestrained moment of truth i would burst out and end it, and sigh with relief. It just wasn't who i was.
And i would go back to what i had, to the flirtations and fun of an irresponsible, non-committed fickle man, to the arms of the familiar stability of the unstable, and comfort of unreliability, to sharing a place of no worries and no speculations save for the pain that will come when it ends, as it will, as we both know and have agreed to..... I will always be struggling for more stability, and he will always be struggling to find someone who might make him more restful... if only we would both change just a little bit... as if we didn't both believe that no such change could ever happen... Two mad people only finding safety in the unsafe....

T has been rendered my last bad choice, the last time i let myself do this, let my heart want what it can't have and take the easy way out. According to him I have spent more time with him this month than he has spent with any girl ever, i have gotten to know his stories, his beliefs, his reasons, his dreams... i even know his blood type now, and i know now what he loves about me and what annoys him. Isn't it fucked up that our relationship only became real 6 weeks before it was meant to end?

I am tired, every second i spend with him i am happy, and the second i leave him i am tired, i am tired of waiting for him to leave, of wanting every moment till then to be happy, of the anxiety of how i will take it when he actually goes and i also have to face an empty France i have grown to resent.
I am mostly terrified that this is all i know and i will do it all over again.
Something tells me that this is simply who i am.

Corollary

I will not run
when you leave and i have to face the music i wont run
when i am again questioning myself, i wont run
if you turn out like every other leaf
like every tear rubbed off my face onto my sleeve
i will not run
if you bid me farewell in your crossing
if you forget me in your reality
if the me i forge becomes so weary in this tossing
i will not run
i will sleep, and i will tear
i will surrender to the fear
i will look myself in the eye
this time i wont wonder why
and i will not run.

Can you?

What happens when...

you dream of the person and wake up to find him next to you
you love someone so purely, that it makes you love yourself more
your day is so gentle that you can't believe it's real, and you want nothing more
you dream of a person, other than the one sleeping next to you, and know that that's ok
you look at God with adoring eyes, and look at religeon and not even see it, and still find peace
you find out that you can be everything you want to be or will want to be, and actually practice that power
you grow up, and understand that no one you know knows better than you, about you, and you manage on your own

What happens?

Can you handle the overwhelming realization that you are happy?

Good Morning

Lazy morning
cloudy blankets
tranquil quietness of fall
leaves in reds, threats of rain
the terrace always feels the same
the hair's a mess, the coffee's warm
a pashmina wrapped around the arms
the horizon calls
but not in sad tones anymore
good morning life
how you dance
how you tip toe and you play
how you put a quiet smile on my face today

On ER, ICU and what have you...

I didn't know if i would blog about it. Ironically i had so much blogging material the last two weeks, and no access to Internet.. Now it is heaps and heaps of blogging material waiting to either be written up and posted, or discarded as to have missed the blog. On my way back from the hospital i decided i would for two reasons, 1. i want to remember this for when i feel like life is difficult, and 2. because i want a certain someone to know what he got me through.

On the night of Thursday the 5th, i stayed awake till 5am from pains in my upper back, shoulders, neck and chest, at that point i took three pain killers and slept, as i had been doing on and off for the past month. I slept in, went to work late, and within two hours was so out of breath and focus that i drove myself to my general doctor for the third time this month with more or less the same complaints. I parked, and took my purse and cell phone which were the only things i could carry at this point, and found her associate instead. The woman examined me, and after many of what i now know are heart disease related questions she told me that she suspects i have a heart infection and will write me a letter to take to the emergency room in the hospital. She did as promised, i did as told; drove myself to the hospital, two items i can carry in hand and admitted myself into the emergency room.
Note: the emergency room is accessed by ringing a bell, and then you wait till they answer you, and there are no chairs for you to sit down on. This struck me as quite scary, and while i contemplated whether or not i should sit on the floor till they let me in, i extrapolated the absence of chairs for people in urgent need and what that meant about all the other services in the hospital.
As i was about to opt for the floor sitting they opened their doors, and it began. Four hours of examining me, i apparently had a fever, i apparently had very low blood pressure, and on picking me to take some blood my pressure dropped to the point of passing out and i actually had a french nurse slapping me across the face screaming "reste avec moi! reste avec moi". Forgive me, but even at 60/50 blood pressure, this was waaay too theatrical for me.
After four hours and alot of doctors, machines and discussions going on in french while i dosed off into a state of zombie like submissiveness, an English speaking doctor was brought to me by the ER doctor who had adopted me since i clutched his arm and wouldn't let go three hours ago. The English speaking doctor was the most impeccable man i have ever seen, a man of very few words, later i was to forever be in debted to that man, but at that point, i wanted to punch him. He icily relayed to me that i had an infection in the heart, resulting in liquid amounting to a can of coke's volume all around my heart. As a result my heart had been exerting triple the effort, i have had all these pains in my upper body, and i have been short of breath. It was advanced, they did not comprehend how i had left it till now or had tolerated the symptoms, they would treat me for five days, if the liquid level didn't go down they would have to operate to drain it out, i was not allowed home, and i was to spend the night in intensive care.
Too much information, with too little information, i recall in my fever actually asking him, on a scale from one to ten, one being the flue and ten being this might kill me this week, where are we?
His reply that day and for the next 24 hours was the same, everything has a risk, and yes it is dangerous if we don't fix it. I understood that i am to shut up, and let them do their thing. I would be getting no "isa kheirs", or "matkhafeeshs", aw "baseeta wi sahla, mafeehash ay khatar". I would be getting no bullshit, oh how i yearned for some bullshit..

I spent the night in Intensive care, or what they call "reanimation" which is actually resuscitation.., i will go into that in a bit, i spent the night in pains that had somehow magnified, an entire upper body pissed off because of the can of coke worth of liquid. They woke me up at 6 am, took 23 tubes of blood from me, i swear, 23! and later i am to find out they were testing me for everything imaginable to find out how i got what i got and what they should give me to stop it.
English speaking doctor walked in at 11am with a smile and the news: we're going to operate, we don't know why you have this, you're in too much pain and we need to analyze that liquid to give you the right medicine.
I think that is when i crashed. I had my cell phone with me, i asked the doctor if i should tell my mother about this, and he reminded me that i am 26, an adult, and i am to do as i see fit. Ouch. I was sedated to be able to make that phone call, a cheerful light breezy phone call to the woman in Cairo telling her that i am in hospital getting something checked out, no worries, its all basic standard procedure, she was a rock, as she always is, i hung up, the sedative was working, and i peacefully went to the anesthetic room, and then the operating room, where the hilarious french nurse told me to think of cool kind things till i went out. The next thing i know they are slapping me, and i have a drain coming out of my chest, to be left there to drain the liquid out of my heart for the next four days.
I spent six days in intensive care, they were of the most difficult days i have been through. There is something about being connected to screens and solutions in a gown on a bed in the middle of a cold room with absolute strangers invading your most private activities and severely sick people in a similar state wailing from pain across the room that is extremely traumatizing. I think the worst thing was that i didn't feel sick enough to be there. I must've been or they wouldn't have kept me there for six whole days, but it didn't feel like it, i was too aware and awake through out it. I didn't feel like i needed to be bathed by someone, i didn't feel like i was not fit to go all the way to the bathroom to pee!
I had my cell phone (somehow), a few books, and my ipod. I had a drawer with underwear and a toothbrush in it. I spent the day clinging to my three threads of sanity staring out a far away window trying not to indulge the thoughts that present themselves at this state.
They took out the drain and stitched me up last Wednesday, and moved me to a normal room on Thursday, a week later. I took a shower by myself, and brushed my own hair, i wore my own pyjamas, and wasn't connected to anything, be it machine or plastic tube. I sat on a chair and had a view. It had passed. I was away from that place with all the monsters in the head.

They let me go this morning after eleven days, ten of which they daily tested my blood and everything else i could give them to test, monitored my heart and what have you, and radio scanned the hell out of me. All the veins in my arms are bruised from the cannula thing, and at the end they didn't find what gave me this virus. They treated me for everything anyway and gave me 12 more days off work. I have two wounds, one from the operation and one from the drain, the one from the drain still has the staples in it, i get those removed after tomorrow.

There are things one learns from situations like this, that life is scary and precious, that a job that makes me miserable must be quit, that being in my own country day in and day out is invaluable, and that some people are made of gold. I will forever remember two people who got me through this, the infamous T who has made up for everything he ever did wrong by coming to the intensive care every day twice for six days, playing tawla with me, bringing me books and headsets and fresh underwear, holding my hand, bringing me cookies and clothes from my house and basically bringing a smile into dreadful days. And the other person is the one I'm writing this for to read who doesn't know how much he's helped.

Thank you.

The World

The world is vast and wide. I am currently trying to decide on what to do next with my life. I have enough money put away now to be able to afford a new start pretty much anywhere, provided i land a job soon. I bring out the map, that is what my indecision has come to, i actually bring out a map of the world and look at it pensively. I start with Europe, the natural process. Paris? Bad weather, still amongst the French. Barcelona? Low pay, scarce jobs, new language barrier. Germany? Ekh. Italy? See Spain. Switzerland? Zzzzzzz. Holland? Hmmmm... friendly, English spoken, beautiful flowers. London? Hmmm... very hip, very me, very possible, very cold.
But Europe is such a small part of the map! My eyes wander off to the other masses of land forming continents amidst bulks and bulks of water. New York? I'd probably die of stress. Boston maybe? Brrrrr. Brazil? :) But that's not a years move is it? I mean who goes to Brazil and leaves Brazil? South Africa... Melbourne...?
My eyes fall on North Africa, Egypt, Cairo... how can i feel nostalgic and the urge to vomit at the same instant? I dread the traffic, i dread Mr.Oriental Judgmental Man, i dread embracing sexual harassment again as an accepted part of my day, i dread everything that has to go through a process governed by the government, i fear for my sanity. And yet a force pulls me towards that part of the map, a mother, an identity, a sense of belonging, and an endearing warmth i haven't felt in almost two years now. I confirm it in my mind that Egypt is a place that nurtures self destruction and suppresses the soul so much that when it finds freedom in any refuge, it tries with all its might to turn that refuge into a new home.

One last glance at the map, the Caribbean maybe for the winter?
I fold the map and put it away and decide as i have everyday for the past two weeks to wait patiently for my boss's reply to my status-quo email, to postpone mega decisions that would break my mothers heart, and try to ignore the nagging voice telling me to go home.
Where did i put my book?

The Morning's Disarming

There's something about him
Sleeping like that both arms hugging the fluffy pillow
There's something about him
He looks so peaceful, he almost looks kind
He looks like the man i insist he is in my mind
His knees are curled up towards his chest like a child
His face is passed out from the hardship and the wild
There's something about him, the way his breath is so regular
About how the rhythm of his chest is so reliable
I know i should leave, I'm already late
But there's something about him now that makes me wait
I sit on the edge of the white linen bed
I sit in the aura of my baby's scent and sweat
It seems he feels me, or maybe he smells me
and he reaches from under the covers and tells me
"come here to me for a second"
I Cherish the moments he holds me so purely
I relish this hug where he loves me so surely
Where i am the best way, to start his day
I smile, i am happy in the now with the man i know could exist
I am happy now even though I know when he calls me later today
He will be the man he is

Memorabilia

I stutter
the shreds of that shirt
are swimming in the gutter
I shiver
you know better than to walk away
if i quiver
I glare
you know i can't resist the torture
of fingers in my hair
I grit
my teeth, my skin
the neck that you just bit
I moan
from the char i need to part with
carved within on walls by stone
I groan
In dellirium i reach for blankets
to stop the cold from grating bones
I pant, I mutter
I need a shirt to replace
the shreds swimming in the gutter

In Due Time

I used to swing upon a star
and live out dreams of just how far
I'd walk the earth, and swim the seas
I used to map my life on trees
I knew that in my little dress
my super powers were no less
than those i heard of and was told
could always turn ash into gold
And then one year it seemed i saw
that all my dreams had been flawed
that all my passions had been breached
by the reality of what we can reach
in a world so smudged and broken
and a soul that is forsaken
I cried for help, i was not told
that all the energy i could hold
would be so misconstrued and whored
and all i loved, i loved no more
And then the days that roughly went
held my hand and dried my sweat
"now that you have seen my love
just how much we need your love
now that you have glimpsed the world
go out and spread your heartfelt word"