Moved to new domain - www.gilded-soapbox.com

Hi all ... I've got my own domain now.

You'll find my blog now at - www.gilded-soapbox.com

I have no plans to suddenly stop babbling.... So hop over to the new address and keep reading!

www.gilded-soapbox.com

Lxx

It happens. Somewhat.

Shit happens. Good things happen. Wine happens. Hell, I happened. Or I’m happening, right now, in this place. You feel me too… I’m fading, and sometime I feel nearly used up, but I’m here. Happening.

 

Wow, two blogs in one day. Someone should run and alert the media. I said that I would try to blog more, but this reeks of self love a little. And why not. If you can’t love yourself, who can, eh?

I’m in one of those positions where I have no one to turn to but myself. Stress of the week is finally catching me. I’ve had compliments about how well ‘I’m holding’ and ‘Oh Lynn, you are looking solid through this’. I’m not as solid as I look, and now I am franticly clutching the bottle by the neck with a white knuckled strangle hold.

He’s trying to live now.. in stead of dying. It’s touch and go, but it’s there. Now I can fold a little… I can breathe. Who do I talk to? Or fuck it, do I just fold alone with that bottle of red that is more dependable than any thing at this moment?

I fucking strongly dislike Septembers. Next year I’m take a holiday to a place far far away… Warm breezes, good food, drinks with stupid umbrellas in. I’ll change my name, wear sunglasses and look mysterious. I gotta out dance it, before it catches me.

I’ve discovered that yard work and house work don’t cut it. They look nice, but the train is still running through my head. If I just knew where to turn, I would do it.

Or maybe it’s just the bottle and the tunes. Fuck knows I’m probably shit company right now anyway.

Too self absorbed to love beyond the obvious candidates…from the soap-box

Lx

Castles made of sand…

Or wishes, or fears, or just good old garden variety stress. Fear makes a pretty good foundation for a sturdy castle, and stress can keep the walls thick and strong. Wishes are the things that can only decorate a single room…There’s rarely any space to make a castle of what it needs to be made of. Sand. Truth. Life.

Life is so fluid, so fragile, so ever changing. It’s so easy to knock down, and if one can be smart enough to outrun fear, it can be picked up and recreated.  A new castle can be made up the beach, further from the tide. You can change the look, add a few shells… Or you can ride close to the water, raise your face to the sun and know your castle is not safe, and that nothing is. But gosh, isn’t it beautiful the way you can see the clouds go by in the reflection of those puddles of water.

Castles made of fear have no windows… only halls long enough for pacing back and forth. Castles made of stress have no doors… no way out. Wishes are the carefully hidden safe rooms. If  you can find it, perhaps you can remember for a moment that life is actually made of sand.

I’ve spent the last little while making my castles out of everything I could find… Bits of junk laying around, cobbled together by stress, occasionally finding room to create a wing supported by fear.

Now, I’m not sure where I’ll build my new castle. Just now I’m sitting in the tide, staring at the coast. The water is lapping over legs, and I’m having a cup of coffee as I consider the vista. The sand here is very nice and feels good under the fingers. I’m not in any great hurry. There’s a bit of freedom this. Close to the edge, or further up the beach…

I’m breathing now. Finally.

And if you don’t mind, I’ll just stay here a while.

 

Loving love, and the feeling of love and being loved, and the strength found in love…. As always, from the soap-box

Lx

Things I didn’t want to know

But I found out anyway… Or rather perhaps I found out because I wanted to, and I never knew I didn’t want to know until I looked.

I’ve just reread that sentence a few times, and I was sorely tempted to hit the delete button. The urge was strong… But I’ve decided to let it stand, and carry on. As one does… as one does.

I’m living in a world of restless nights, and restless thoughts. Priorities shift at a moments notice, and my own tolerance level sinks rather alarmingly at times. I’m having to rely heavily on my Southern Upbringing to see me through this… and to give me the ability to fake it with a smile when I would rather issue a nicely timed slap.

I’m stronger than I thought I was.. So that was rather a relief to find out. Shocking really, but there it is and there you have it. Just now I am reading strength in the bouts of numbness and sheer feral defending that must be done. Part of me rings the alert bell at the numbness… But I reckon I’ll deal with that fall out when I have the time.

Right now, I don’t have the time. Peter might be dying…Surely he’s struggling to live. I’ve only got it in me at the moment to deal in that direction. If a hand reaches out to keep me from toppling over while this happens, I’ll kiss it with gratitude, and add it to the list of things I must remember later. So many things to remember later… Lists are the glue that keeps me together.

I hate Septembers.

Loving things with names who escape me ..,and as always from the soap-box (off-piste tho it may be)

Lxx