Pot calling the kettle fat

My boyfriend just bought me some pot. He's fucking awesome. And, if anyone actually reads this, you're going to see some stoned stuff for a while. It's very difficult to follow and probably hurtful and/or offensive but tremendously cathartic to me so please bear with me.

I told my mother that the very worst thing she did in raising me (we discuss and review these kinds of things frequently) was her refusal to let me fall. I can tell you where all my scars come from. All four of them. I can also tell you what I heard while healing from all four of them (two you can't really see anymore). I heard: See? Falling hurts, doesn't it? Don't do it again. And they were right. And I did my best to not hurt again. 

Okay, that's enough for now.

I think, therefore...

I think I just realized something - what I need to do. Obviously this whole weight thing has been bothering me. On a different emotional level than before but I still don't want to look like this. I don't want my clothes to be too tight or my hair to be limp. I don't want to drive a Pontiac and have floral wall-paper and have to worry about being five minutes late for work every day.

I've tried to eat healthy, made a half-assed attempt or two at exercise, sporatically looked at job postings and had moments of 'what if'. But nothing I do is sticking. I get it, I understand it, I want it but I throw it away just as easily. I don't need it, I don't care. I think I need to go back even further than that. Maybe it's time to start wanting it again. But, whatever, I'm stoned. What I'm trying to say is that I need to go even more simple - I need to take care of my home. I need to do the dishes and clean the floor, wash the windows and scrub the shower. I need to feel pride to feel want. Maybe then I'll eat better, cut my hair, exercise, study, and then to the moon.

I love my sister

I do. Before I met Jeff, my sister and my mom were pretty much the only people that I would go above and beyond for... and not even my mom during a few years of angst. And when I decided to leave Vancouver, it wasn't because I didn't love it there - trust me, I loved it there - it was because I was looking to test myself, to push myself and see how far I would go, what I could achieve. My sister is 11 years younger than me, had moved to Ontario and missed her big sister. She was planning to get married and start a family and I wanted to be in her life. Which coincided with our dad contracting terminal cancer and wanting to be closer to home - although I never dreamed for a moment I would end up there. I didn't know what I was looking for but I knew I was looking for something. So I decided to start looking at my sister's house.

She and her boyfriend (who is now her husband) took me in and gave me a home. I only lived here for three months, deciding after my second month that it was crazy to shovel snow out of my sister's driveway when I should be at home shoveling it out of my parent's driveway. (Then it took a full month to accept that I had volunteered to live indefinitely in the house that made me insane after a week and with the people who made me want to pull my hair out after an hour.) But the time here was very happy and important to show me that next hard step.

All of that was four years ago now. My dad lived for half a year after I got there, I stayed with my mom the promised one year after. In the mean time, I met Jeff on Tumblr, came to Ontario to meet him, came back to meet Ruby, we broke up and dated other people, we came back together stronger than ever, I moved back to this side of Ontario, four hours away from my sister.

It is my absolute fantasy that some day we will live closer again. But she has a home and a life here and I have Jeff and Ruby so there is a very strong chance that we will never live closer than we are right now. Four hours away really isn't so bad. We're in the same time zone, generally the same climate, we don't even need to worry about ferry schedules as we did when we lived in the west. We do need to worry about money a hell of a lot more, unfortunately, so we don't get to see each other as much as we'd like, and when we do we have to get together for days instead of lunch. She is going through a really rough time in her life right now and I wish so much that I could make it better. I want to promise her this baby will survive and they'll both be alright but it's not a promise I'm able to make or keep. So I need to find a way to take care of my little sister as I have been doing since she drank from a bottle. I want to be here for her as she was for me when I needed her. So I will come here once a month or so, to vacuum her carpets and wash the dishes and tell her to rest and have faith and let go of the things she can't control and concentrate on the things she can.

It's hard to be away from Jeff, though. I feel like a part of me is missing when he isn't around. I miss him and the home we've made together. I even miss Ruby more when I'm here for some strange reason. And there's all these cats climbing all over me! Tomorrow I will pep-talk, I will vacuum, refill water glasses and generally try to ease some of pressure until I leave my little sister in her husband's capable hands. And on Monday I will rush home to spend some time with my favourite person in the world and enjoy some more of the things that no one else can give me but him.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Reflection makes the head grow stronger.