Pools of sorrow and waves of joy are drifting through my open mind. (a reflection of my 2015)

"Nothing's gonna change my world" -The Beatles 

Every year, we grow. In so many ways, we grow. We grow older, richer or poorer, wiser (sometimes) and grow in what we value and how we approach adversity. Life is never a continuous straight string of good or easy times for any of us. But I must say this year was immensely difficult and at times I felt as though the string of bad or difficult times would never end. I started my year off in Edinburgh, my beloved Edinburgh, and at that time I thought that's where I'd be right now, ending the year. I'd be carrying Tesco bags full of Cadbury and mince pies through the rainy cobblestones streets up to my blue door on Panmure Place. We'd have 'Crimbo' dinner with the mates, have pints in the Grass Market and the December nights when we were feeling lazy, we'd be in our flat playing monopoly with Murray and Rhi. But I'm not doing any of those things. Even if I find myself trying to grab for this existence again or dreaming about British adventures, it still doesn't change the fact that that is no longer my life. My new/old life is so physically and existentially far from that. Life has brought me back to Oregon and has revived elements of myself which I had forgotten but Oregon has also changed me in ways that I wouldn't have predicted at the start of 2015. I can never get over this phenomena of what's it like to come back to home after years away. Some things do change, yes, but it feels mostly how I left it, in an eerie sort of way...overall the thing that has changed the most is how I view home and how much I feel like a foreigner within it's boundaries.When I knew that I had to come back, I thought that it would be the hyped event of the year for my friends and family. How self involved, but that was how I truly felt. The reality that this wasn't the case occurred to me just two days after Michael left to go back to the UK and I was in this new/old world on my own. I was taught a rude lesson at the time; that coming home was never about me, it was about them. No one sought to hear stories of afar or how deeply distraught I was about leaving.  It was clear to see that my friends were going through difficulties and needed more attention than my own. Any woe that I felt towards Michael leaving had to be pushed aside as well.  However, it came a few months later when I truly realized that sometimes the point of your life is to be there for others. When my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had that major coinciding operation...that was our life. That was everything. Even if I felt alone or panicked or scared shitless, I had to keep it together and try to make my dad smile; through father-daughter dinners at the hospital or walks with Lucy afterwards. My purpose was to make my dad happy even if was a small moment. On the other side of the coin, my sisters and my bestfriend had babies this year. A true light in the dark. Through these experiences, life taught me selflessness in a kinder a way, a way which I could smile with ease. From cleaning my sisters apartment to throwing baby showers to taking care of big sis when her new baby sister was arriving into the world. Even if these were small helps, it gave me a new sense of worth that I hadn't felt before. A sense that I was making others' lives easier...even if for a moment. Prior to this year, I gained a sense of importance by learning at universities and gaining knowledge from traveling and becoming more culturally competent. That's what I measured my worth by and in a sense, I still do. But there's more to self worth and I learnt that this year. The point of my existence was to help others through the good and the bad that this year brought them. I know that I'm not Mother Teresa and I have a far way to go to being her but I'm a work in progress. As for Sarah Demoran, I have found my own catharsis from listening to music loudly while driving my bug, taking baths while listening to the Shins and writing (of course). These are the moments where I have to question how much I have really changed since I was 17 because these moments feel just as cathartic and freeing now as they did back then. I guess there will always be some things about me that will travel through time. And as I look towards the future, I am looking with a completely different lens. One in which expect things to be completely different. I have no idea where I will be this time in 2016. Maybe Michael's job will take us to the beaches of Hawaii or maybe to a rural area in Idaho or maybe we will be back in the U.K having a propa pint and laugh. I really don't know.

The past and the pending

Dear God (or blog) (or someone), When I was a little girl. I waited by a window every Friday night. I've said this in a blog before but these Friday nights have impacted me to my core and I've got to be candid with you. It's been since April since I wrote and well that's when everything happened. I've been trying to process ever since and now I'm trying to process the scariest thing I have ever... my dad's inevitable death. I told you that I'm going to be candid and raw and I mean it. I mean it so much. When I waited when I was a little girl, I hoped and hoped that my dad would come home sober. He never did. And since the cancer diagnosis, the operation and the stroke, if he wants to live he has to be sober. But he wont. My dad. MY DAD searches for cigarette butts and hopes for an extra puff. My dad sneaks a taste of wine or gets away with having a beer here and there. And Friday night, I came home to my dad drunk. It shattered my insides. He wont stop. He wont stop even though he's finally got me here. He wont stop even though he has new grandbabies from my sisters. He wont stop even though he's missing most of his pancreas and had a stroke. This translates to me as a big fuck you. A very big one. It's as if I'm not worth living for or my family. His will for living is minimal. It eats at me...everyday. Does he know what he's doing? Does he know that I sob at night and feel lost? I feel like my whole life I have waited for this man to give that kind of life up for me. I wanted him to love me so much that there was no other option but to make me feel whole. And I just feel now more than ever that I can't be blind anymore. I can't keep thinking that it's all going to turn around and he's going to choose life over alcohol. I feel as though, I need to come to terms that my dad isn't going to be there to walk me down the aisle or go to Fenway with me. Every time I hear my phone ring and see it's my mum calling...I hesitate... I take a deep breath and pick up as my heart rate raises and my emotion detector is on full. I need to know within seconds how my mum's mood is..."does she sound scared, shocked, worried, sad or all of the above"...is today the day she going to tell me that my father's body has had enough. Do you know how awful of a feeling that is to feel every time your mother calls you? I'll tell you, it's indescribable. As I lie here in my bed after a long Monday, I can't help but think about watching Forest Gump with my dad over the years. I grew up with that movie and we quote it and have a laugh. But he never knew that as I grew up, I felt like Jenny, in a way. I felt absolutely helpless and I would pray..to who..I don't know but I still did it. I would pray with my whole being over and over again to escape. I want to escape this too. So God, please make me a bird so I can fly far far away from here.

She believe she could, so she did...not.

It's been almost three months, a quarter of a year, 90ish sunrises and sunsets. And I think I am finally ready to answer your question, that complex, convoluted, hell of a question,...."how are you?". Since, I have been surviving (I wouldn't dare to call it living, I can't be that dishonest to you nor myself) in the states, I have been asked that question from friends near and far, close and acquaintanced, distant family and intimate and everyone else in between. I tend to answer A. Sarcastically: I'm living the dream B. Short: Alright. C. If possible/best case scenario: not reply since it's via text/social media/ any other passive form of modern communication which doesn't necessarily force a response. I find myself feeling very cynical at the moment; people love to hear gossip, people love to hear that others are failing in life more than themselves and hearing those juicy details will only make their lives seem better in comparison. I am trying not to give you some sad pathetic moan when I see you or give you the chance to delve into my soul by divulging personal details since I know it means so little to you and so much to me. I can't do my being that sort of injustice. However, my written words will be a way to shed some kind of light to answer this question. It's the only way I know how. So.... I wanted to be the epitome to that saying "she believe she could...so she did". I wanted to be the damn poster child for that female empowerment propaganda. I was an independent, driven woman who wanted to find meaning and live a fulfilling life which positively impacted those who I met. I wanted a life far away from the fake, spray tanned, pill-popping, capitalist country we so proudly call America. I wanted out. Living there has and will always be an identity mismatch for me. As Larry said on page 74, living there is a betrayal to my soul. I couldn't put that so truthfully and eloquently. So you know what, I did, I did believe I could make it out and could find a way of living that was more of a match. I believed it with every molecule of my being. Not only did I believe but I spent every minute trying to find a way to stay. Countless calls to foreign offices, meetings, interviews, applications, research and more research. Metaphorically, I bled myself dry. That wasn't enough though. So. She. Did. Not. How I am then? I am empty. I am lost. I am, in the most simplest of fashions, not okay. I've lost my drive and a way of life which I loved. On top of that, I met a boy who I love and he's still there and I'm not. I guess what it comes down to: there are two things that can sum up why I am not alright or okay or good or fine or totally awesome, man: I have left my soul and soulmate in a place where I cannot be. It is not just a void, it's so much more than that. A void would mean that just something is missing. To me, everything is missing.