With from Without
I told him, as I sat across from him, eating my yogurt, granola and
fruit McDonald's treat, that I would recount this story five years from
now to another friend. I told him I would remember the silly details
like we had just gone to the Shopper's club and had gotten food for
well over a week for just 21 dollars. That we had had a late lunch
at Red Lobster. That we had listened to Garbage's Vow twice in a row
and then some Ministry and Skinny Puppy. I told him I would tell my
friend in the future of my friend in the past. The I would note that
it was today. In a McDonald's eating this treat and munching on fries
that it was a turning point. That after a laugh about a friend of
his that I felt okay. It wasn't the story he told. It wasn't the laugh.
It wasn't even the McDonald's treat, nor the day I had running around.
It was just time. Just the time. Just a transition.
And that it would become a story. Just like all stories in the past have
been told here and are told now. Remembered by odd trigger points.
Remembered with a degree of fondness as stories in good nature are.
An old love once told me that my laments may have been brought on by
more finanaces than I had ever been accostumed too. That I no longer
had to work really hard to bring in money. That I had enough to spend
on many trivial purchases. I was once so pleased at being able to
just go into a grocery store and not have to look at the pricetags.
Today I was amazingly overwhelmed and damn HAPPY to have gotten the most
for my money. That I looked at price tags. That once again I was
working for something. That this meant something. That this was
food. Food I needed to survive. That I had to make money in order
to purchase food in order to survive. That I was going back to an
earlier stage - one of necessity.
It was one of many things that old love spoke the truth of. How I
wish he could hear me now and know that I do understand, that I
understand so much more. But perhaps his purpose has been served
and it has been what has brought me here to this current state of
mind.
I remember Jansen and food stamps and pushing those carts full
of our cheap goodies up the hills of Vancouver in the snow. My
motorcycle boots bought with past riches now worn and tattered
with holes in their soles. I would wrap my foot in a plastic
bag and line the bottom with newspaper to get through each day.
Our cheeks rosey red with the onset of frostbite. Our fingers
wrapped with the ends of our sweatshirts. We were excited.
We had already planned the dinner we were going to make for
our 'family' who were also without finances. Jansen didn't pay
rent for our couch. I only paid 100.00 a month for the closet.
The others were streched thin as well. A pasta dish, with
layers of the cheese I had liberated from work earlier that day.
He was going to make some little bread buns from the flour.
First we were going to chill jello for desert. If you put ice
cubes in it it will grow solid faster! he exclaimed.
I can smell the air still, feel the incline, see the Christmas
lights.
It was only a week later that I paid my first visit to the doctor
with the strange bumps on my chest after watching Bitter Moon.
I never did return that video.
So today was another happy day. There was no excess. There was
just contentment.
I have gone almost a full week without alcohol. Almost a full week
without cigarettes. I did give in and have a few drags on Saturday
night. It was last night that a four am run to the CVS to acquire
nicotine polacrilex gum as i was shaking slight, terribly inside.
My eyes unable to focus, my mind worse. I did not know if it
was stress catching up to me (as small pimples have come to visit my
nose and cheeks recently) or if it were wirthdrawl. I pushed
the onset of an anxiety attack away with anger and insistence.
I swore it would not get the better of me and make me weak again.
I will not be that weak again.
Content in my degree of solitude. Building strength from within
without blame, without anger, without bitterness, with the acknowledgement
of what is meant to be is meant to be. The outcome almost certain
with a degree of decisions that are within my control. The balance
of control and a lack of control must be understood and accepted.
'I'm doing okay. You know its been a long time since anyone has asked me that'
And you know what I mean.
