July rain
There is rare and welcome moisture in the air today. Darkening clouds have been coaxing the curl out of my hair and seducing summer into its most juicy storms. The trees in this metropolis desert sway in the ripping wind, in hopes of reaching their heated leaves out and drinking in the monsoon rain.
It is the bearable part of the summer.
These storm clouds carry no hint of coldness, no icy drops to melt quickly on the heat of your cheeks. These are clouds of seduction, of quenching downpours and bolts of blue. They remind me, as small and monumental things do, of what it is to be living.
They remind me of how close I came to never seeing the beauty of Arizona rainfall. Not by his hand, but my own. Pills quite nearly took me, as I took them one after the other and dreamed to sleep without waking. My body took over when my mind could not, and purged me of my poison. But my will to die, for a fair number of years seemed to outweigh my will to live.
I carry two scars, they mar my white wrists in thin lines. When I shiver against the elements, goose bumps raise walls around them, but never through. I remember watching my own scarlet vein spill out over my hand. Poising a knife above to surmise if I needed to do it again. I thought of the way my room would smell, like meat gone past its expiration. I thought of never hearing the beauty of my mother again. I thought of never hearing the lilt of my sister’s laugh.
I thought of ending my life with a knife, just as he had intended to do. I tore a pair of tights into a makeshift tourniquet and stopped the spread of shiny redness over my lap. Lightheaded, drained of blood, of tears, of will. I slept.
I am not made of anything special, I am not made of anything extraordinary. Under a cloudless sky I sought to be free of a pain I never counted on living through. But today, these clouds collect and let loose with their nectar and nourish the earth. Today, I allow myself to feel the hurt instead of trying to squelch it. It is real.
As am I.
July 7th, 2008 at 11:38 pm
You are so wrong. You are extraordinary.
So many people, who have never faced the harsh challenges you have, follow through on the urge to kill themselves. My sister-in-law lost her sister to suicide. As sad as I am for the pain she was going through, I know she never went through what you did and she left behind a small child. I try not to judge her actions or her pain but I know her family suffers terribly.
I can only imagine how hard it is for you sometimes. But you are strong and amazing.
July 8th, 2008 at 12:09 am
I’m so glad you’re still here.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:30 am
What SQT said. You are an incredible, amazing person.
July 8th, 2008 at 4:10 am
you are someone that i admire more and more every day. what you’ve survived, how you felt and now, how you express yourself…you’re an amazing soul beautiful flutter. i’m grateful your will to survive is so strong – your story is profound and your words…this is how you make your mark. much love. xoxo
July 8th, 2008 at 5:35 am
it takes great courage to face that hurt, to feel it, to heal what we thought we could never survive. and it takes away some of its power when we stop trying to squelch it.
beautiful post, Flutter.
July 8th, 2008 at 5:37 am
I wish I could be your mother and hold the young you and rock you just like I do my daughter. Even then…
July 8th, 2008 at 6:04 am
It isn’t composition that males us extraordinary, it’s sheer will.
I like anticipating summer rain storms too. Especially the ones that crush the heat, and and bring their rowdy friends, thunder and lightning. All that power, it’s too much to grasp.
July 8th, 2008 at 6:08 am
I hope that the writing and the support provides a comparable relief.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:06 am
Poof, my extraordinary friend. You just broke my heart.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:39 am
~Shalom~
July 8th, 2008 at 8:08 am
Damn, I’m glad you’re still here. So glad.
July 8th, 2008 at 8:24 am
Oh, Flutter, this really hurts my heart. I’m glad you are still here, still real.
July 8th, 2008 at 10:25 am
You are a exceptional writer and I am sure you arethe same as a person. I do understand that pain and am actually posting something today in the subject. Thanks for being here with us!!!
July 8th, 2008 at 10:30 am
The pain that you felt has allowed you to feel more today than most people do. I love your writing style. And I love the monsoon rains
July 8th, 2008 at 10:30 am
“I am not made of anything special, I am not made of anything extraordinary.” I keep looking this in the face and trying to stand up to it. To stand above it and move on in spite of it.
You are beautiful.
July 8th, 2008 at 11:52 am
“I allow myself to feel the hurt instead of trying to squelch it. It is real.”
Beautifully put. The key to overcoming pain is to accept it, acknowledge it, bear it. You’re doing a phenomenal job of that with this post.
July 8th, 2008 at 11:58 am
and just look at you. the battle scars, it makes you all the more beautiful.
July 8th, 2008 at 12:29 pm
That you own up to the weakness you felt, that you faced it, and won; is what makes you extraordinary.
July 8th, 2008 at 1:03 pm
I’m so, so glad you’re still here.
July 8th, 2008 at 1:43 pm
I am glad you are here.
You are made of something special.
July 8th, 2008 at 2:04 pm
If you don’t think you’re made of something special, you’re wrong.
July 8th, 2008 at 2:31 pm
you are so intense, girl. I love that about you. I love that you don’t hide your scars.
I can’t wait to give you a big hug next week.
July 8th, 2008 at 3:02 pm
Dark and Divine, nothing could more aptly describe this.
July 8th, 2008 at 4:13 pm
this was a gorgeous post from a gorgeous, and very real, woman.
July 8th, 2008 at 4:14 pm
and like defiantmuse, i can’t wait to meet you next week.
July 8th, 2008 at 5:23 pm
I think feeling the pain instead of trying to avoid is a good idea. I’m trying it as well. It’s hard work. Take care sweetie.
July 8th, 2008 at 5:45 pm
Sometimes, I think, it seems that we need to just feel some sort of physical pain, some bleeding, some real and familiar sting in order to momentarily expunge the mental anguish, to make it secondary to some other sort of pain. It’s normal though it’s tragic and I’m so glad you remain unvanquished!
July 8th, 2008 at 6:01 pm
I’ve told you before–I truly can’t imagine a world without you and your words–you’ve touched me so often.
You are also so very courageous.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:09 pm
I don’t know what to say…I’ve told you a million times how much I admire you. I hate being redundant, so I’ll just say…the world is a better place with you in it.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:43 pm
Sure glad you changed your mind at the last moment, my friend. You are doing well. I love how you describe the Arizona rain; I’ve been there when it rained, and would like to be there again some time. Take care!
July 8th, 2008 at 7:56 pm
love this post, sweets. truly.
July 8th, 2008 at 7:58 pm
Oh Flutter. I am SO glad you are here. I know I say this all the time, but I mean it. You are making a difference every day by just being. I mean it.
July 8th, 2008 at 8:01 pm
It is painful reading those words, thinking of the desperation that led you to those dark days. Wish it never came to that and I get why it did.
I’m so glad you are here.
May the rain do the trick.
July 8th, 2008 at 10:50 pm
If only I knew. I thank God you are here. I thank God for having us meet back in the day. I thank God for all the fun we had. You are and will make this world a better place. You are helping soooo many people. I really and truly admire you. Good luck next week and don’t worry. You will be inspiring many people. You will be great. I love you. XOXOXO
One more thing, you were meant to be here. This is what God had in store for you. Friends Forever.
July 9th, 2008 at 7:44 am
Am so glad you are still on this earth. We NEED you! We need you and your strength, compassion, insights and words.
July 9th, 2008 at 9:05 am
As I am – these words have such a deep yet subtle magic. Just like you.
July 9th, 2008 at 10:59 am
I’m glad you didn’t go through with it.
I like to think we are all ordinary, but it’s how we take on what Life throws us that defines the extraordinary in each of us.
So, nope – even if you were once an ordinary girl, you are now an extraordinary woman.
July 9th, 2008 at 12:00 pm
I always find it incredible what the human spirit is capable of withstanding and overcoming. Even at the edge of giving up, something in you was fighting for life. I am happy you are reminding yourself of your strength there.
July 9th, 2008 at 12:34 pm
You made me cry.
July 9th, 2008 at 1:11 pm
It IS extraordinary to feel your way through the things from your past…if it wasn’t you’d have done it by now…You are extraordinary for doing this…
July 9th, 2008 at 1:15 pm
I, too, disagree ~ you are absolutely extraordinary.
I’m glad you didn’t do what he wanted you to do… I think your presence here, in this space and in the one you occupy there in Arizona is important… necessary.
July 9th, 2008 at 7:11 pm
This was such a beautiful post.
Your description of the rain evoked a sense of the eroticism in me, and your personal troubles are very compelling.
I’m glad you’ve come through it.
July 9th, 2008 at 8:31 pm
I’m just letting you know that I read, but rarely comment. So, keep it up, you’re doing fine. Apparently–as a friend once told me–the only way out is through.
July 10th, 2008 at 8:09 am
That shit is hard, and writing about it is impressive.
July 10th, 2008 at 4:25 pm
your honesty and candor is beauty.
it’s hard – god, it must be hard.
but you are something extraordinary.
July 10th, 2008 at 8:01 pm
i’m so glad you’re here and going to SF next week.
July 10th, 2008 at 8:06 pm
Your strength, your scars, your words — all beautiful.
July 10th, 2008 at 8:08 pm
I disagree.
we are all extraordinary.
July 13th, 2008 at 3:39 am
You ARE made of extraordinary stuff, you really are. To have survived as you have, you really are special. To fight as you are fighting is special. You are using the very best of what it is to be human to overcome the very worst.
And your words, they are special beyond special.