four hundred & somethingy-something

**trigger warning for angry, somewhat crass references to child sexual abuse**

tonight, i went through all the blog posts that i didn’t write over this past year.

all the words we carefully chose, sitting, lonely. the huge spreads of days i didn’t write, all the dates, all the half-written posts that continue to sit, waiting to be completed.

and i felt this crazy huge swell of grief.

scrolling through all those words, all those dates, all those months, it was like looking at scratches on a wall in a prison cell. it made me feel so sad, not in the least remembering some of the major, life-shifting goings-on that happened during those days.

i hit a major, major impasse with my t. like major. like nearly six months of not seeing her, not seeing anyone, feeling completely alone. of being suicidal, of pinching myself so hard that i was covered in bruises, of very seriously considering checking myself in to hospital to keep safe. of shoving everyone in my life away, including pocketbrit. i doubted everything. that any of the abuse happened. that it mattered remotely to anyone, including me.

i received a note in the mail from my dad in may, his version of an apology. for “any indecent act” he did in my childhood. a two-liner, a bomb he dropped into my life after (blissful) months of no contact, never to be referred to again. he doesn’t even know i got it. no one has asked and i still haven’t acknowledged receiving it. i mean honestly, what is the point?! don’t get me wrong, i panicked and shook and dissociated about it for days…and then i got angry, so fucking angry. how dare he. how dare he treat it so casually, how dare he “apologize” to me and ask forgiveness in two lines, in a fucking note?! plus, to which indecent act was he referring? rubbing me and sticking his fingers in me when i was three and four and five, and then listening to me masturbate? or did he mean when he got me to jack him off? did he mean the confusing relationship where he would come to me at night and whisper how disgusting i was as he did things to my small body and then get up in the morning and teach school and then come home to coach my soccer team? all of it feels pretty fucking indecent to me. all of it. i want to scream, suddenly, thinking of this again. i’m pressing my fists hard into my eyes to keep in the tears, i’m so tired of crying.

huge roadblocks in my marriage. frightening moments in parenting a child with a likely mental health diagnosis in her future, trying to support her whilst feeling entirely decimated. health scares of all sorts. really, really big blowups with pocketbrit, desperately sad and angry ones where horrible words were said and retracted, where scars were healed and new ones laid, alternately. surgeries of family and friends. persistent and unrelenting back pain. stupid job with stupid long hours, repeat ad infinitum – and containing the worst of my mental health crises during vacation/time off. euthanizing our beloved elderly cat at home, burying him in the backyard, and the ensuing and horrible grief of his absence. a new feline family member added, a few months after. the joy she brings.

and, finally, after much discussion and planning and waiting, meeting sweetest pocketbrit. hugging her for real. hearing her laugh with my kiddo, in my house. cooking and drinking and teasing and hiking and doughnut-eating and napping and canoeing and movie-watching and loving littles. it’s only been four weeks since she was here but it feels like a dream. except, it happened, i have the pictures to prove it, and the glow in my heart when i remember her, when i remember how we were both exactly who the other thought we were, and the comfort in that. the security in that. the longevity in that.

because we created this blog to keep close to each other, to connect. and the thing is, for all of the days that we didn’t write here, we did connect. every single day, we did: via text, email, silly photos, phone, or video call. every single one of the days that we didn’t write here, we connected. sometimes less, sometimes more. sometimes angrily or defensively or with shame. when we were little and when we were more grown up. but every day.

that’s something to be proud of, too.

so, yeah, we’re going to figure out this blog. because i love the idea of it, i love the outlet of it. we are both treading water pretty mightily at the moment, and daily survival is a bit higher on the list than the blog, but we will work it out. i hope the two people who read the blog with any regularity will still be here, though if not, that’s okay too, it’s always been for us, here, at the sea.

Huge (365)

This was a huge task we undertook in trying to do this blog, every single day for 365 days. And safe to say we haven’t completed it, not even close, but we also haven’t failed… Not in my opinion at least.

We thought we could do it because we said that we wouldn’t have to write much at all if we didn’t want to or couldn’t that day… A simple “I can’t do this one today, sorry folks”, or a one liner about the word of the day. No big obligation for a long or interesting post… Just a response. Any response.

I think we overlooked something pretty vital in that… Pocketcanadians and my nature. We don’t tend to do things feebly. We don’t want to give short meaningless responses to words that aren’t meaningless to us. And I’m actually saying this without checking it with her, but I think (maybe, pc?) that the same goes for her.

There’s something about a word coming up and feeling unable to write all of the things that are floating around in your head, and then not wanting to write a rubbish couple-of-sentences response, because then it feels like you’re passing that word by. There are words on here that are so difficult… Family members, grief, attachment, therapy… Not to mention to seemingly innocuous ones for each of us (persistent, for myself springs to mind. I once got very upset with pocketcanadian for using this word to describe me).

I want to finish all of these words. And I want to properly respond to all of the ones that invoke a reaction in me. I don’t want to pass a word by with a sarcastic or silly comment because I couldn’t handle it that day.

And I know that pocketcanadian wants to finish these words too.

So, I don’t know how it will look right now… Whether we’ll manage to reshuffle the words we haven’t done and again have it as a surprise word… Maybe this time as a word a week rather than a word a day. Or maybe we’ll just do it as and when we can and forget about coordinating our responses.

I don’t know what its going to look like, but I know that neither of us are done with these words just yet, even though we’ve been entirely rubbish at them the last several months. It was a huge task, a word a day, and I’m still proud of what we made with this space, that anybody at all followed us and sometimes read along. (thank you all of you who did that). And I’m ready for another year of trying to write things out of my head and into this space…