out of sorts

Another Christmas where this photo becomes indicative of my state of mind (photo by Joseph Pascual taken in 2009)

Another Christmas where this photo becomes indicative of my state of mind (photo by Joseph Pascual taken in 2009)

I’m not myself these days. I wake up and I don’t want to participate and I just want to go back to bed and wake up in 2015 — as if the new year would be impetus enough to start all over again and the things that bother me would be gone or no longer relevant to me.

And what are the things that bother me?

I don’t know really. I just feel a bit battered and bruised. And to be completely honest and mature about it, it’s not 2014’s fault. It’s mine. I made some pretty dumb decisions this year and kind of lost myself in the process and instead of facing up to them, I’ve decided to throw in the towel, put my head under a pillow and not deal with it.

So mature, Wanggo. **facepalm**

And it is not as if it wasn’t a good year. I’ve started dance classes and that’s such a huge thing for me. It is and even if I have only attended three classes, knowing that it is there and that I can be in class every week next year brings me so much joy and hope and whatever. It’s huge. And I got to go to Europe again. I was there and I soaked it all in and I got to be with my brother and we were able to establish a relationship despite our ten-year age gap. He’s the eldest and I’m the youngest and finally, we have memories that we can bring with us wherever the wind blows.

And I wrote T’yanak and I’m really proud of it. I was watching it on my computer recently as I was putting subtitles for an edited version that we are putting out soon (and hopefully for the DVD) and I got to see it again, close-up, and I’m just so fucking proud of having written that film. That’s mine. I did it. And I think it is awesome and great and amazing.

Yes, I stumbled and I fell. I even got my heartbroken again after so many years and, to be honest, it’s a great feeling because it means it can still happen. I can still meet someone that can take my breath away. And he did. And he didn’t feel the same way about me as I did for him, but he was marvellous and he was kind and caring and sensitive and it’s wonderful to know that I can still lose my heart and it can still get broken. It means that it isn’t permanently broken. It will get fixed, after a while, and it will find its way back again in that same place.

I’m not going to be one of those lonely, jaded, broken people coursing through life with a dark cloud over his head.

Yes, it hurt, but hurting means you are alive. And when you hurt, when you can feel the pain, then you can identify it and then heal it. It would be so awful to go through life not knowing your hurting and just realising that your gut reactions to things destroy you and it is because you aren’t aware that you are coming from a place of injury.

No, the hurt is good.

But I have made mistakes. I have made choices that have pushed me back this year and I am at fault and to blame 2014 — the random events of this year — is just immature and I’m supposed to be heading towards strength and maturity. I’m supposed to be grown up now.

So the few days left in this year will not be taken with my tail between my legs and my head under a pillow.

I’m much, much stronger than this. Let’s do this. Let’s end it with a bang.


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