You Know Me

You know me,

the girl with her head in the clouds

dreaming of love and desire

playing all her games with fire.

You know me,

the girl who strives for perfection

whether at home or work

never acknowledging the screams

in her mind.

You know me,

the girl who laughs too long

covering up her pain,

dismissing her anxiety.

You know me,

the girl that you see before you

you think you know me

but really,

you cannot see beneath the surface.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

August 16/17

Why you won’t want to date me

What one can expect to find if they continue after reading and understanding the rules:

My heart enclosed. The gates locked. Bridge is up and the moat is full. With vicious crocodiles. And piranhas.

As I sit here, pouting like a petulant toddler who’s discovered she has to share her candy, I realize how hard I am to please. I have always been the caretaker. That role, after doing it for years becomes exhaustive.

Every single relationship I have been in I end up being in total control. I am the one making all the plans, paying all the bills and ensuring that life continues along tickety-boo. And now I have independence and the only ones I need to worry about are T and myself.

So I have come up with 10 things I need to warn the opposite sex of. About me. And my requirements. For my non- relationship. With a man who can take care of himself.

1) I do not want a relationship. However I do not want to share you. So get use to it.

2) I want a text. Not a thousand times a day but a good morning, a hey in the afternoon and a good night. So I know I have flitted across your mind.

4) I want to hang out with you. But I don’t. So just sit there until you figure it out. I will continue to read my Kindle.

5) I want to talk to you. Sometimes I will actually want you to participate in the conversation. Wait for the extended pause and dive in there.

6) I am a little bit crazy. But just a little bit, most of my friends will tell you it is barely noticeable.

7) I have anxiety attacks. There is no rhyme or reason they strike from no where. Just talk to me calmly about anything so I can focus and ask you questions.

8) I am not certain I want overnight company. I now sleep diagonally across my king size bed. Debating if I want to share.

9) I live with depression. That means some days I am sad. There is nothing you can do about it. Give me a hug and kiss and I will be okay. Some cuddles are nice too.

10) I am extremely emotional. I cry at commercials. I get mad at stupid stuff. I feel things very differently.

Truthfully, I am forwarning most men.  I am a weird woman. I want my independence. I want to be taken care of. I want to be respected.

T and me had a conversation recently. He wanted to know when I was going to get a boyfriend. I phfft’d and said I did not need a boyfriend.That I was more than capable of doing what was needed. He looked at me and asked ‘ you just needed one to help you put together my bed, right mom?’  (I so could have put his bed together but a friend with a drill is much more helpful)

He’s back…….

Picture is one of my own.

I have had a really good week. Short as it was only a 32 hour work week. Work has been humming along. I am getting things done. I am getting ready for my 2 weeks vacation at the end of August. I have been exercising on a regular basis. And beginning to see results.

So despite my promise to myself that I was not going to drink until September 10th, I decided that I would have a glass of wine to celebrate my week. I even discussed it with mom. Deciding that if I was going to fail and fall off the wagon, I would rather do it now, while T is gone rather than when he is here to be disappointed by my lack of control.

So I had that first glass of wine while I made supper. Checking emails and yes it went down nice and smooth. I decided to have another with dinner. I never did finish that second glass of wine on Thursday evening. Was in bed and asleep just shortly after 8 p.m. Awoke in the morning with that taste in my mouth and a sense of relief. As nice as that first glass had been, having quit cold, I realize I do not need nor crave it as I had been just a month ago.

Friday I rocked it out. Woke up at 4, looked at the clock and thought I can get up now. (This in response to my awakening at 12 and thinking I could get up.) I cleaned the house and had my laundry done before 6 a.m. Than I waited for 9 as I was doing shopping. Back to school and grocery. My day was amazing. And again, I was in bed early.

Yesterday was a typical day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not really. Until it struck me. My hands began to shake, I could feel my heart racing. A tightening of my skin. I am sure my pupils were dilated. I took a deep breath and placed my hands firmly on the table.

  1. Something I can feel and concentrate on.
  2. Deep Breath and feel the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  3. Deep Breath and feel the chair beneath your butt, the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  4. Deep Breath and feel the soft brush of Lucky’s fur as she winds around your ankles, feel the chair beneath your butt, the floor beneath your feet, the table beneath your hands.
  5. Deep Breath, Exhale, open your eyes, feel how your are grounded, centered, there is nothing here.

It took several minutes of this. Finally I could feel my heart begin to slow and the flight or fight adrenaline rush began to subside. I was still shaking and gulping to swallow. The aftermath of an anxiety attack that hit me out of the blue. It has been several months since I last had an attack. There had been absolutely nothing to have precipitated it. I was sitting relaxing on the computer.

Or was there? I am a bit of a superstitious person. Not like a black cat crossing my path is bad luck, or if my nose is itchy I am going to kiss a fool. No, mine is more like if I hit all the green lights on the way to work, it is going to be a good day. Small things like that. If you have a stream of good luck, do not speak it out loud for you shall jinx it.

Still buried deep within my brain is a shard of anxiety. The black despair that makes me think that I am screwing everything up and suddenly it is making a reappearance. Why? Work is going really well. I am letting go of some things and delegating to my supervisors and staff. It is a hard and scary step for me. Maybe too well?

I am healthy and happy. Energetic, alive, in a way that I have never been before.

Suddenly I realize what Thursday was about. The desire to drink, “celebrate” my week had been a test. Subconsciously I was testing myself and I had won.

Whoa whoa whoa, anxiety suddenly rears up. Hang on here. Jay is happy, things are going well. Oh no, we most certainly cannot have that. We cannot allow her to ride away from us, nope, nope get out that rope and lasso that girl back here.

Yes anxiety has become a cowboy so I can put a face to him. Mock him when I am well. Envision myself as my own Good Sheriff battling the Evil Sheriff for control of my brain when he comes out to cause trouble.

He ropes me. I use my technique to ground and center my being, wriggling my way out of the lasso. We have a stare down and eventually he slinks away, hat pulled low over his brow so I cannot see his malevolent stare. He will be back. Possibly next time with guns drawn. That is okay. I won this time.

 

Untitled 12

I use to think, to believe, that pain was the foundation

that happiness and flowers were a fairy tale;

Words I read on a page, that made no sense

trapping me in a whirlwind of pain.

As I grew and began to see the world anew

I realized your sickness, your disease

Alcohol, a vice to others

the voice whispering in your ear.

You hurt me, your inability to see

alcohol was your mistress but what the fuck about me?

Deadened to expectations, accepting only what I could see

my lip curls now in disdain, as I realize;

A man you were not, a father you could never be

a childhood destroyed,

never once an apology.

I spit on you,

your sacred memory.

I hope you burn in hell

accompanied by the demons

who damned you in life.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Aug 1/12

Tiny Shower

Picture above is of the shower I used this morning.

So I am out camping. In a trailer in the rain. Not a cabin with creature comforts but a trailer!

Don’t get me wrong tis lovely what with the wind and the rain. And the fact I am the only sober one. But I am not complaining. There is fun to be had and well showers to take.

My alarm goes off at 5 a.m. because I need to be at work for 6 a.m. and despite the fact I am only 6 minutes away does not impress me much.

(A little side bar about me: I have a pathological fear that I am going to be late. Always. And I am positive that my phone will not go off at the expected time. Last night was not so bad I did not wake up every hour like I usually do when I work Saturday a.m.  And just so you know it is only Saturdays I have this issue with.)

So my alarm goes off at 5 a.m. I bolt upright as unlike at home it is not next to me but on top of the damn fridge. As is the secondary alarm we set due to my fear of oversleeping. I turn mine off no problem haven’t a clue about the second phone and toss it off to its owner. So I am upright and slightly mobile.

I go into the bathroom and ask how I use the shower. Don’t laugh; chuckle a little, maybe giggle but no laughter 😁 although it turns out to be just like a regular shower. I am warned to watch the hot water as it can be finicky. Not sure what that means but hey I have never showered in a camper before. I turn on the water and step into a space designed for….I am not sure….someone who is shorter and thinner than I am.

I have barely put my cleaner on my face when I notice the water is getting cooler. Okay I thought to myself maybe the cold water is persnickety too. Turn the cold down. Begin to lather up my hair as the water gets a tad cooler. Now understand I have not been standing in there for 5 minutes or even 10. I have been in there for maybe 90 seconds.

Get my hair lathered and rinsed with shampoo. It is still a little warm. Throw conditioner on my hair and the water continues to get colder.

So 5 a.m. in a tiny wee shower (I am 5’6.5″ tall 120 lbs) and I have had no time to process that it is morning. My face is half covered in face wash, I think I had all the shampoo rinsed out when I threw the conditioner on.

Now I am swearing cause damn that water was cold. I mean ice cold. Shit and F bombs are flying left right and center. 20 second conditioner splash and rinse.

Well I am now wide awake. Freezing. And going to work. Yes it was only 5:35 when I arrived. Yes I still needed coffee to finish the wake up process. And I will never ever go on an excursion like this again if I work the next day. Unless the camper has a bigger water heater.

 

Reality

Sitting on the dock with my pain

staring at the stars above,

alone.

Locked in an endless cycle

of ‘I told you so’s.’

This is not the first time

nor shall it be the last

where I tell myself

you will not fall this time.

And each and every time

I fail.

Tears slide down my cheeks

as finally do I accept,

the reality,

the truth that comes

and put the fantasy to rest.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

July 21/17

**Picture as well is mine.

 

Wonder where he gets it?

This has certainly been a week of discoveries. I took holidays this July (1 week only) for the first time in 3 years. And T and me spent this week up with my mom. Whom I love with all my heart. But lordy spending all this time in a three bedroom smallish cabin is enough to make a woman tear her hair out. Even when T is with me we still have time apart. He goes outside to play, I get fifteen minutes of silence.

On Wednesday I announced to mom that I required 15 minutes, just 15 to go for a walk by myself and rebalance. This was way too much together time. She huffed. T waved as I walked away. I tried to explain later to her why it was required but am not sure that she really got it.

Which leads me to the ‘wonder where he gets it’? T and mom started butting heads on Tuesday I believe it was. Monday when we arrived it was gorgeous out. Mom and GU-S (great uncle-mom’s youngest brother) immediately put T to work. I sat on the deck soaking up the sun and reading. I was to build the fire. There was too much in the fire pit and anyways once I got the fire started the uncle took over.

Tuesday though, was bleak and rainy. Windy too. We were all on top of one another and I allowed T to play his video games on the phone. Not my phone lol but a phone his dad had given him. No sim card but GU-S had hooked him up to the internet so it was all good. I had checked these games the night before and had no issues with him playing. Did I maybe allow him to play too much and too long? Mom certainly thought so while I was just happy that I was not subjected to the boredom song. And this was when the smart mouth and constant desire to be last came to the forefront.

I have never realized, and that may be because he does not pull it that often with me, that T has a need to have the final word. But oh lordy, once mom pointed it out to me, I heard it. I saw it occurring. There were a lot of warning low grumbles of ‘T that is enough.’ There was mom telling me that I needed to nip this in the bud or I would end up regretting it. T was being a smartass and for the most part I could deal but not when I was getting it from both sides.

Wednesday also dawned grey and wet. Oh lordy not another day spent inside with these two! I was not sure that I was going to be able to handle it. (Thankfully T’s little friend KJ had arrived on Tuesday evening and eventually the sun broke through allowing me to sit in the back reading and chilling and getting my shore up time.) Mom asked me a few questions to which I shot back some smartass comments. She than pointed out to me that it wasn’t a wonder T had a smart mouth he learned it from me.

T is always right. He will twist and turn his facts to prove he is right. He also, with mom it seems, needs to have the last word. Mom and me were talking about something, I cannot remember what now but she made a comment and she says to me ‘well I wonder where T has learned the smartass behaviour and need to be last.’ ‘I do not always have to have the last word and I wonder where I learned it from?’ an arched eyebrow as I looked at her.

‘Jay, I am funny not sarcastic and you always have to have the last word.’ She is opening the door to go in. ‘I do not.’ I retort quite like the 8 year old son I have. Mom looks at me and just shakes her head.

I never have noticed that I require the last word. I rarely argue with anyone any more. I do not argue with folks at work, nor do I talk enough to my bro to have any arguments. Which leaves only T and myself. And usually those arguments end with one or both of us in angry tears. And I always get the last word in as the parent.

This picture was taken on Thursday after a huge battle before leaving the cabin. Mom wanted to do her laundry. T had a fight with KJ. He was not pleased that he had to go to Winnipeg Beach with us. There was yelling. I took the phone away and he was reduced to tears. I also threatened to put him in the car myself if he didn’t get in there. Not sure how I would have accomplished that as he is a very solid little boy.

Once in Winnipeg Beach, I made him come along on our walk, threatening that I could not leave him in the car as it was illegal. The RCMP would arrest me for child endangerment. I made him hold my hand as we walked. T was less than thrilled with me.

As he stomped along pouting, mom and me walked behind him talking about this and that. Until he saw the play structure, with boys playing. Mom had intentionally guided us that way. We left him to play while we took a short stroll. Mom wanted to get some pics of me so I told T where we were headed and I would come back for him. Everyone was happy.

After we were done, mom headed back to the laundry mat to get her clothes and I went off to collect T. Who was heading towards me, a little distraught. He had come looking for mom and me and may have panicked a wee bit when I was not where I said that I was going to be.

As we walked along, he informed me that he loved me. And he held onto me. Of his own volition. I made him stop and took this picture of us. We were both happy and in a good mood. I got him ice cream. And one for mom.

More and more do I see myself in T. I am sure that when he is with his dad, his dad sees all sorts of habits/behaviours that are just like his own. I do believe (and this might be wishful thinking) that more and more, his internal unseen building blocks are more like mine. He is tenacious and sarcastic and stubborn. He spins fiction into facts and they sound good. He is my son.