Rings around the moon.

The event horizon is the glimmering ring of absolute delusion that surrounds a black hole. Light from past events is trapped at a balance point. Image without form.  To go beyond this balance point is to leave a ghost, an appearance of life as you are crushed into ultimate stasis.  The event horizon is a mirror that reflects only the past. I woke up feeling a familiar dread. It is soon September and the start of the school year.  This feeling shows how much I have not moved on.  I am dreading him working with her as if I don't know, as if it is this time last year.  Telling myself the truth, that this is nothing but a recording of how I felt, but wasn't allowed to express last year, may help, eventually? As I feel this the metaphor changes.  I'm on the Nostromo very quietly getting into my space suit.  The sense of threat; the psychological damage already done, the financial implications, the unknowns that lie like land mines buried in the ground ahead...

Me: I have no idea about you or your past. Your lying is a poison that flows both forwards and backwards. I’ve no idea how far that extends. Clearly you are not who or what you pretend to be. I freely admit this notion comes from The Undertaker by Puscifer. Nevertheless, it is exactly how I feel. On Friday I was meant to be nice and normal and possibly grateful as I took the invite to eat fish and chips with him. I managed OK (not normal) and I was grateful. But I took the opportunity to ask a question to which I truly needed at the very least a discussion. I got an answer. "No" At which point I should have left. But his hostility (disgust?) left me shaking. I didn't see myself as fit to drive; I needed eye contact and a hug...something to get me back to the land of the living. At some point in the depth of the fear, my anger clicked in. I felt as if I was holding the last remaining photos that show that he is a good man. All the others, all the snapshots and recordi...

30 days of no contact was just about enough for a scab to form, do its work and fall off. Yesterday scoured off the new skin that had formed underneath and I am back to weeping every hour or so. Problem is, there is a new normal to navigate, in our lives, not just the bloody Covid. Weeping, like anxiety (panic attacks) has its own rhythm independent of where I am, though where I am can add to the pain. Tesco's in particular...something about shopping for a family that is severed and sundered. Just pain. I don't know what to do now. The cause of the problem wasn't just seeing him, it was his reaction to me being sad. Sad because I'm here in our home, and my husband is putting his remaining belongings into his car, to drive away. Again. My anger stems from a question that keeps repeating in my mind How is this anyway to repair our marriage? Ah yes, I forget - I'm the reason why he can't be married to me. I 'go on and on and on' because the problem is, when...

I didn't imagine this road yesterday, A snake road as opposed to a ladder. Here is re-bereavement terraces, here is despair boulevard. This is me totally used up, re-fractured, glass ground into concrete. Just came round to get his things. I admit, there had been a certain joy in putting all his family stuff, plates and bowls, books, odds and ends in the box and thinking GONE! That isn't the same as having him come back and load things into his car. Telling me about how sad he is there in his dead parents house, sleeping in the room he slept in as a child - but that's still better than being with me. Because he is so bad, not a good person, not a good man. He says. Not I. All I can say is... Stop this! Mend it... So, re-bereavement is how it feels. As bad as the moment when he left, repeat, and repeat and repeat. It didn't take very long to happen. I tried to avoid it, I was out when he came here...I then went out to hang out the washing.  But tears began there, and the...

  A map of the psyche. Not sure yet what it means to be on Latralus road! Anywhere is better than Denial Drive or Martyr Street. As you can see, Limerence Road is famous for leading nowhere...except it does pass very close to the famous parking space of Golden Sparks. Rosetta Stoned Highway is where all the interesting things are, shopping at Bosonove Lost, or venturing into the Bingo Bag. Having a long, cold glass of cider at the Ioni Couliano pub, and finally making it up to the Vertigo Helper for scampi and chips, perhaps? Rosetta Stoned Highway though the most exciting - as all trans-personal, spiritual emergency experiences are - is best avoided. "Strapped down my bed. Feet cold and eyes red. I'm out my head. Am I alive, am I dead? Sunkist and Sudafed, Gyroscopes and infrared..."

Walking Limerace Lane was an anxiety modifier, still anxiety, as limerace isn't a focus on now. But mostly the experience has been wonderful; healing, reassuring, soul restoring!  Crazy or no, I thank Papa Legba - who I summoned in a non-traditional way through a Bruce Springstein song. Yup! We left it at, or I left it at... Getting to Jerome (Arizona) One day. Depending mostly.. On money. Until then, where am I now? Ha Finally! Latralus road.

The Unattractive Portable Head by Daughters Many things to say. First thing: I wish I could remember when I first heard this song. I felt like it was telling me something. But I didn't recognize myself in it. I identified with the sound of it , the energy, the rage. Not the lyrics. This song... I hear it now as.. Writing on the wall. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree... The configuration of self I called 'Last year's man' is either at the end of a continuum, or is the real person.  Last year's man is his father's son. Yesterday I almost cracked.  I wanted to take everything that is his back. Put it in the car, go round at about 3:30 am when he would be asleep. Leave it outside, behind some bushes... I decided this impulse comes from the part of me addicted to pain. He would hear me, see me. Why am I thinking of this! So So, I let the impulse to remove all trace of his family from my house run only as far as putting some things into a box.  Then I r...