Blackholes and Revelations

I have been very busy lately, as you may have noticed, thus I have not been able to write as much as I'd like to.

It's a period of transformations for me; a time when things life changes but most importantly, you the person going through those changes, evolves, progresses and becomes something or someone, you don't know yet.

It is also my birthday next week. Indeed, welcome to Scorpio everyone.

Explains a lot about me, doesn't it?

So, coming up to the celebration of the day of my birth, I'm feeling a little melancholy and being very reflective. And I thought that writing about it would be as good a way as any to come back to all of you.

And, as usual, coming up to this day, I start reflecting upon my life, my past, my present and my future.

By the way, just to inform you: writers Dylan Thomas, Albert Camus and Richard Burton were born on the same day as me. They were all existentialists, passionate, artists, sensitive, intense and extreme. EXTREME. That pretty much sounds like me too.

I don't intend to drink myself to death though.

There are a few things I fear. And when I mean fear, I mean really scared. Terrified. This list is in no particular order; so they come as I'm writing, "libre pensée".

N° 1: The first thing that comes to mind are insects. Sorry, maybe it's typical but, yes, I'm terrified of insects. This is simply because I'm allergic as hell to them. I'm mostly allergic to bees and wasps, and have nearly died because of being stung by a wasp. This was not fun. Rushed to hospital, tubes down my throat; I was stung on my finger (I had just arrived to school, parked my car and reached over to grab my mobile phone on the dashboard. It was a lovely day in October and I had the windows down. A wasp had settled onto my phone and I didn't see it. So, I literally grabbed the wasp. Obviously, the damn thing stung me.) and my arm had gone a very strange sight: completely pale white and dark dots of black all over, gradually creeping up and closing into my heart. I didn't panic, but I don't know how many minutes later, I started having great problems breathing and was just about to pass out, when the medics arrived. Thank God. The doctor later explained to me that the venom from the wasp kills all the red blood cells going up through the blood system, thus the paleness of my arm and the black polka dots all over the place. Also, a strange thing, once the doctor injects you with that anti-venom, boy it works like a charm! Within 5 minutes I was fine, almost as though nothing had happened. I mean, that's how fast and radical an allergic reaction is. My arm was in a sling for a week and a half, and I was on meds for that long too, but I was ok. Just very painful where I had been stung for a little while.

But trust me folks, that was enough to freak me out for the rest of my life every time I hear a buzzzz or see a bug. Sorry. I should also say, it wasn't the only time I was stung. I've been stung twice and each time, it's the same damn thing. Which is good and should also show you that I haven't become so paranoid that I don't go out. If I started letting all my fears rule my world, then I wouldn't be alive.

N°2: Fear of failure. Yes, yes, I know. I'm not the only one, and how irrational is this one? Failure constructs us, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I know. I KNOW. But still. Pride DOES fall when you fall. Like I said, I'm a passionate person. I take things not personally, but to heart, if you see the difference. In other words, if and when I do fail, I don't think my whole life is going to end. I know my life continues and I don't stop running. But, I think about how I failed. Why I failed. What it can and should teach me. And why it is important to fail. I take the time to reflect and the competitive nature that I am, also takes the time to grieve. Yes, that's right, grieve. I've failed recently, in my job. Was it hard? Hell yes. I took it so hard and so personally. I cried for 2 weeks and even went through a stage of "I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it-leave-me-the-f***-alone." But, life goes on. Before I knew it, 2 weeks had gone by and my life was already moving ahead. I took stock of what I had done, what I had not done, and what I could have done better, and what I will no longer do. Does it still hurt? Yes. Just like being stung by a wasp. It doesn't go away so easily. And as you know, the worst part of it is not just failing yourself, but failing others. The harm and damage that you have done to others through your mistakes. And for that, if there are those one day who read this, I apologize. I apologize deeply. I have to admit, I have no problem with apologizing. I take full responsibility for my decisions and my actions, and this time is no exception.

I'm not perfect. I wish I was though.

N°3: Fear of death. Ok so, many of you are going to say, me too. And also many of you are going to say, what? Death is a part of life. You have to come to terms with that. Well, yes, I have come to terms with it, but you'll never hear me say that I'm not afraid of it. I wish, I really wish, I could live forever. Not for any reason of vanity, but simply because there is so much I would like to do. So many places to see, so many people to meet. So many experiences and lessons to learn. So much I want to live, that if Death came to my doorstep tonight, yes I would panic. I would scream and rant, I would be so angry. You heard me, ANGRY. I'm not ready yet, and maybe I will never be ready, but whatever the case, I'm not going now. Not willingly. If I'm taken, I'll be taken kicking and screaming. I know what I mean. I spent 2 months last year, before going through surgery, coming to terms with the possible end of my life. I was terrified but also filled with a strange kind of energy; I was not ready to leave and I certainly was not ready to say goodbye to the people I loved. I had to hang on, and I grabbed whole-heartedly at the life and the strength that was in me. I thought of all the things that I wanted to do, and thought of my child and her life that I so desperately wanted to see first hand.

Please understand, pain doesn't scare me. I went through surgery, and I didn't take even 1 dose of morphine. The girl in the bed next to me took it all she could, but I didn't. Not out of pride or ego; no, I'm just very good at dealing with physical pain. I did ballet, I danced for years. There is no other person more used to dealing with physical pain all the time, than a dancer. Try dancing on "pointe". You'll see what I mean.

Surgery went well, although trust me, illness is never nice. Needless to say, I feel like I've seen enough doctors and hospitals for a while and I hope to not be seeing another hospital so close for a few years yet.

N°4: Fear of closed spaces. Well, I don't know if that is quite exact. I mean, I am claustrophobic. I hate being locked in a closed space, and in fact, if I have to take a lift, it is perhaps one of the most painful experiences for me. I usually try and take the stairs, unless I'm having to go up 20 floors. But, I also feel like this, let's say, if I feel like I'm getting to close to someone, that is, on a personal level. Or if someone is "pushing me into a corner", if you understand. I feel trapped, and that is one of the worst feelings as far as I'm concerned. Not having or seeing a way out is pretty much the equivalent of torture for me. And just like a wild animal, if you push me into a corner, then I will react like one. I will get pretty mean and wild and I will do everything to get out of there.

This is, of course, intimately linked to Death. My absolute worst nightmare? Waking up in a coffin. I actually have nightmares about this. I have written in my last testament, that of the things I'd like to buried with, a powerful mobile phone and a gun are absolute obligations. If the phone doesn't work, I'd rather just shoot myself. Also, I actually think of necrophiles. This too is something that freaks me out. No, really. There are things that I can try and understand, but this is one of those things that I just can't. I just cannot conceive why anyone would want to have sex with a dead body. I'm sorry for all the necrophiles out there, there's no judgement in this, but please, just leave me alone. So seriously? Bury me with the phone and the gun. And if there's no space for that, just cremate me dammit. To hell with the Kingdom of Heaven, I'd rather become dust and be one with the earth.

And yes. I do have an imagination that works over time. HEY. I'm a writer and a musician. People. I was born with my imagination on "HIGH".

This leads me to the next.....

N°5: Fear of intimacy. Yes, you heard it. And guess what? This is a big one for me. I mean, this is actually the biggest one. I'm quite the contradiction. There is nothing that I long for more than complete intimacy. I dream of being so close to someone, trusting someone absolutely and so utterly, that I could do, say, be everything I want to and go to the ends of my own life and my own soul with that person. And yet, when I feel like I could be getting close to someone, when maybe I'm letting myself go....that's when I mutate. I mean it. I become the meanest, bitchiest person possible. I do everything I can to make that person go away. It's easier for me to make that person go away, than walk away. Why? Because usually, I don't have the strength to walk away. You see, when I get to this very dangerous stage, it's already too late. I already believe in him. In a lot of ways, I'm already much too passionately involved.

Case in point: the last time I saw him, it was horrible. No, I mean, really, it was horrible. First of all, I had just come through this failure at work. So, let me tell you, I was in a pretty foul mood. And I knew, I KNEW he would want to talk about it. And not just talk about it. Take it apart, analyse it, pick it to pieces. Everything I did NOT want to do. I also knew though, that he would do it, because well, I had done something, a few months before, that I probably shouldn't have. I let myself go. I let my guard down; I put down my defences and my protections. I let him see, just a little, just a glimpse, who I was.

Not good. Alarm bells ringing in my head. I mean, not good for me. I was vulnerable, and if you haven't noticed already, I'm a control maniac.

I had tried, since that night, to act as though it hadn't happened. I had tried to come back to normal, well, normal for me, if you see what I mean.

But, no, he hadn't forgotten. HE had seen it, and he was going for that.

So, I lied. I lied a little at first, just to see how he would react, and seeing that the little lie got a reaction, I built on that lie.

And I made him believe that lie completely. And how did he react? Well how do you think? Very badly. He may not want to admit it, but it hurt him. How did it hurt him? I don't know; maybe his ego, maybe his pride, maybe it was jealousy, or something more profound than that.

Whatever it was, it worked. Like a charm.

It made him go away. Very far. Very, very far.

Am I happy? No. I'm miserable. But then again, if he were close right now, I'd probably do it again, and make it even worse.

Will he ever know just how much I believe in him, how much I miss him, how much passion I feel and could feel for him? How much I long for him, how much I respect and admire him?

No.

And as far as I'm concerned, it's better that way.

There are things, that I just cannot say. And will never be able to say. All the better. This is how I keep my soul intact.

I know what you're all thinking and saying. It sounds like I'm a coward, well, I probably am on that level. You're right. I'd like to change, it's true, but well, I don't think we can change just like that from one day to the next. I also think, letting yourself be totally vulnerable is something that isn't natural. It's a learned reflex I think. As mammals, evolution and nature taught us to always protect ourselves. As children growing up, we're constantly being protected and sheltered. As adults, we protect and shelter our young. We don't instinctively open ourselves up; we don't just let down all the barriers and leave ourselves to become potential targets. So, am I learning? Well, believe it or not, yes. Even just writing this is a huge step in that process. And, I've actually opened up more than I could have ever done before, so that's pretty good I think.

But it's still tough. So little things like when I write this, or confide in other people (and here's a shout out to my long-suffering sister!), it's an enormous thing for me. I feel good about it though when I do.

Yes, I do like talking and opening up to my sister, and opening up to friends. It does help. It helps to progress. As difficult as it may be, it is something that is good.

And finally, N°6, the last thing I'm afraid of: Fear of flying. Now, some of you are going to say, this is completely irrational. Well, let me tell you something, any fear is. Flying though, brings together all my deepest fear (well, except for the insects. That is, until I read that story about the guy who got stung by a scorpion on a plane. He didn't know whether he was going to die or not. A scorpion. Crawled up his arm while he was asleep. Oh sweet Jesus. Talk about another nightmare.) Getting onto a plane, no, INSIDE a plane, makes me feel claustrophobic, out of control, going towards my imminent death and facing a forced intimacy in a closed space with people I don't know and don't want to know. Those doors close, and that air, that very particular air, you know? That smell, and then the damn thing starts moving and you're in the air, suspended by whatever scientific theory (yes, the Bernulli principle), and there I am, dealing with my neighbour who seems to be 1-the most talkative person on the plane 2-for some reason, the one who wants to tell me all about his/her personal problems 3-who seems to think he/she can reassure me by telling me about THEIR worst fears 4-is always the person who either wants to go the toilet 15 times during the flight, has flatulence, snores or asks me if I'm going to eat the dessert ("Did you get the vegan platter? That looks interesting. What is it?")

By the time the flight lands, I'm ready to rip out those tiny little windows out of the wall of the plane with my bare hands, just to get out of there.

I did do therapy for this. The thing is, I'm constantly travelling. Yup. Just my luck. My life has made it, that I just have to be in a plane. So, I went and did that Air France session for people like me. This was a few years ago. I did it, because I made a trip and I took my daughter with me. For the first time. She was like 4. And she was the one who reassured me during the whole flight. I mean, I stared at her like she was an alien. How did I make a child so serene on a plane, when I lose all my sense of logic? It actually scared me more that she was so poised. She has since taken flights with me a lot, and each time it is the same thing. She is calm, completely oblivious and looks like she's leading a yoga class. I'm a total wreck. She actually loves flying. So, I thought it was time I tried to do something about it.

I spoke to pilots, did the simulator, etc. Did it help? Not one bit. Sorry. I know it helps a lot of people, and in fact, I believe that a huge percentage of people are actually "cured" by it. It didn't help me at all. The pilot who was doing the session with me told me that people who are afraid of flying fall into one of 3 categories: claustrophobics, people who have difficulty relinquishing control and what they call "earth" people, or people who really believe that man has no business trying to imitate a bird. He told me that according to my psych tests, I had the very rare combination of being all 3. I do distinctly remember saying something like, "well, if I was supposed to fly, wouldn't God have given me a nice pair of wings?" or something of that sort when they asked me if I'd like to jump off the Eiffel Tower.

I have to say though, I'm a skydiver. So, go figure. Skydiving, though terrifying, is an unbelievably cathartic and transformative experience. And adrenaline addictive. Why I do that, when I can't even get into an Airbus, I cannot tell you. I really cannot. If any of you have any insights or ideas into this, they will be highly appreciated.

And that's it. Ok, I laugh as I wrote that. These are big fears and I admit, they're not easy to deal with as far as I'm concerned. But I do try and deal with them and most of all, I try to be as open as I can about them. That too, to me, is a way of trying to get over your fears. If you can face them, and be honest about them, then I think, they may get better with time. Or at least, you're more apt to dealing with on a day-to-day basis. Like I said, I live out in the coutryside, surrounded by bugs all the time. I travel. I go regularly to buildings where there are lifts, etc. And I do get myself into relationships, so I don't lock myself away hoping to avoid all my fears. On the contrary. Much like skydiving, I also like the energy and adrenaline that it can produce. I also don't believe that my fears should get the better of me. I believe in living life to the fullest. So, what can I say?

And finally, the years go by. Time doesn't wait for us. We can only keep on going; we're playing a game of chess with Death. And Death is going to win, there's no doubt about that. But I like to think that the whole point is trying to make the game last as long as possible. Oh, and get as many points too.

Life will always hand you difficulties and trauma, heartbreak and evil. We can chose to be as best as possible and try to work towards being the best possible. And so we can also chose to create our own Paradise or our own Hell. At the end of the day, guess what? We go to sleep, all alone, with our dreams and our nightmares, and at the end of our lives, we die alone. We face our fears ultimately, eye to eye, like single warriors.

So, the best thing I think is to grab as many happy moments as possible. Sometimes those moments are rare, sometimes they happen all the time.

And keep shining. Remember, after all, we're just cosmic dust.