He's moving out...

Everything is on hold as I wait for him to pack, load his stuff into a truck, hug me good-bye and leave my home.

It's been a long time coming. And I have waited for him to decide, not wanting to be the one to push him out. Not wanting to be the bad guy. And in the meantime, putting my needs to the bottom of the pile. But finally he has made the decision and it is happening. And whilst I am glad we are still friends, it is time.

I am glad he is moving out.
Glad to be reclaiming my space.
Glad to make my home my home again.
Glad to be able to stretch and breathe.
To walk naked around my flat if I choose.

I get agitated by chaos and for the last few months in particular it's been getting worse and worse as I have not been bothered to tidy and do only the minimum cleaning. And I have been getting more and more agitated. So, it's good that he is moving out. For my sake. And his.

His room (my front/spare room) will become my studio. And finally the excuses I have been finding will be invalid and I will have to begin. Begin again my creative journey.

I had hoped he would be out by Christmas so I could make a new start in line with the new year. Now it will be mid Jan. And then I will have a major clear out, a huge clean, reorganise my stuff and move some furniture. A bit like therapy really.

It's time to start over.

Change in the air

I had a BBQ today with some friends from work. It was a good crowd. A small group, but the people I like the most. During the day, conversations inevitably turned to work. The frustrations, the joys, the boredom. I told them I wanted to go part time next year. I have been thinking it for sometime now, but it has not been discussed. I think it took a few people by surprise.

I need air. Space. Time.

I want to job share. Work 3 days a week. Take off 2. It's an ideal balance for me. It's what I did in the first half of 2008. For the 2 days away from my work, I studied art. Studied is an odd term here, because the truth is, I immersed myself in it. And I loved it. I was motivated to continue. Keen to retain the momentum and continue to expand my creative life. It was like a different life and it worked beautifully.

When my brother died last year, I could not imagine what life could now hold. I felt the pain of every day without him and knew I was in no state to make any decisions as to where my life was heading. Knowing I needed change, but not sure how or when to implement it. And so I set into a daily routine to get myself through. I didn't know then what I wanted. And I still don't.

But I do know I need air and I need change.
To me there is nothing more certain than this.

Life is too short. Too short and too precious to be living a life that is exhausted by a job that bores me. And so, right now, to get the space and the air I need, I want to go back to part time. Somehow. I am not sure how. But somehow I know it is what I need to do. To rebalance and to start seeing more clearly again.

One year

Yesterday marked one year since my brother died.

Every day I think of him.
I love him and miss him.

Every
Single
Day

Marking days and paying tribute

It's been a while since I have been here. Despite my absence, Finding Felix has been on my mind, but you don't know that if I don't update regularly, so here I am and I do plan to come back sooner next time.

There have been things happening. Among the daily sadness that clings to my days. There have been reasons for tears and some for laughter too. October 13 was hard. It was my brother's birthday and he wasn't beside me. It's happened before. He has been traveling and away and we have spent special days apart before now. But this was always going to be different.

It was so so hard without him.

I wanted to mark the day by doing something special. A special tribute all of my own. But I didn't know what.

I spent many hours and days considering what that would be. The very best thing to do on that day. And then somehow, in a moment of stillness, it came to me. Of all of the things I considered, when it came to me, I knew it was right. Especially because he would have agreed and this would have been what he would have chosen for me. Because it would be the one thing that would be the least comfortable and he would have laughed at that. He was my older brother after all. And a natural stirrer.

And so, on the weekend following his birthday, as the sun lifted in the morning sky and the tide was low, I walked to one of his favourite beaches. I looked out across the water, past the pier toward the heads and squinted my eyes against the reflections on the water. I undressed slowly, stripping down to my bathers and breathed in the cool morning air. As I walked slowly toward the water, I was thinking of my brother and my love for him. And my awe at him. And his strength. And how his absence has left a whole my heart that will never be filled.

As I dove into the icy water and the shock of the cold took my breath away, I cried salty tears into the sea. And as I floated and let the rise and fall of the waves lift me in the sea's gentle rhythm, I knew he would have thought it the perfect way to mark his birthday.

If I could wish for one thing...

It's today.
His birthday.

I have always loved birthdays.
The celebrations.
The surprises.
The laughter.
The special occasion.
The gathering of family and friends.
The joy of giving.
The cake.

Sharing birthdays with family and friends and celebrating the passing of another year has always been a time of joy for me.

But this time it's different.

Today would have been my brother's 45th birthday. And this year I will not be celebrating, because this year he isn't here, and no amount of candle blowing and making of wishes will bring him back.

So, to my beautiful brother on what would have been your 45th birthday, I love you and I think of you every day and if I could wish for one thing, I would wish that you were never sick and that you were still with us and we could celebrate this day together.

There is one thing that we all must do

Here's a beautiful Rumi quote I was sent by a blogging friend of mine which is so beautiful I had to share.

'There is one thing that we all must do. If we do everything else but that one thing, we will be lost. And if we do nothing else than that one thing, we will have lived a glorious life.'

Rumi

There are days when it's hard to breathe.

There are days,
when the air is still
when tears burn in my eyes
and my throat is tight
when he fills my constant thoughts
when I can't get the pictures of those last hours out of my head
when I feel guilty that I am laughing
when the elephant sits on my chest
and it's impossible to breathe.

There are days
that I know that he is gone.

Sometimes
I convince myself
that it isn't real.

That he is still at home,
that I will see him on the weekend
that he will smile when I arrive to visit
and he will welcome me into his home
that we will sit outside in the sun
and chat about nothing and about everything
that I can call him for directions when I get lost or I am stuck in traffic
that I can ask him for advice
that he will stand beside me and my eldest brother
and we will support one another
when we bury our parents one sad day

But
It's all a charade.

Deep down I know.
I know, even though I don't like to admit it.
I know he is gone.
I know, because my heart aches every single moment of every single day.

The people we can’t live without but have to let go.

In the last few months I have been thinking a lot about my blogging friend Renee and her family. I met Renee last year when my brother had cancer and she has been an incredible friend ever since. She has stage 4 Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) which she writes about openly and honestly on her blog.

She is incredible, as is her family who have been by her side every step of the way in her fight against her cancer. In more recent months, three other members of her family have been struck by illness and she has found herself as the carer also. Her sister Jacquie is currently in hospital being treated for cancer, her mother has been in hospital (thankfully now home).

But saddest of all (if one can measure levels of sadness, Renee would also agree) is Renee's nephew Sheldon. He was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer a few months ago. I was sad to read on her blog that he died on Friday. He was only 25 years old. His family are understandably devestated.

She posted this quote on her blog a few days ago and it has been in my thoughts ever since. Lots of love to you and your family Renee. I am so so sorry for your loss.

"There are things that we don’t want to happen but have to accept, things we don’t want to know but have to learn, and people we can’t live without but have to let go."
Anon.

Can you still be friends with your ex?

A couple of nights ago I caught up with my ex boyfriend (a different one from my previous post). My ex boyfriend. Ex fiance. Ex lover. We have known each other for just under 20 years and for 14 of those we lived and loved together.

We met in London when I was 22.

I returned to Australia without him about 4 years later, and, quickly realising my mistake, applied for residency and returned. After 8 years in the UK, we returned to Australia together in 1996. We settled nicely into being 'home', and my family welcomed him warmly into their lives.

We had been together for 14 years when we broke up in 2004. On the whole, it was his decision, though in hindsight I see there were problems. He said he had lost his identity. That he didn't feel the same way anymore. That he wasn't happy. I have often said since that if he wasn't happy then it meant we weren't happy and neither of us wanted a relationship like that.

Maybe we could have worked harder and still been together, but neither of us really knew how to save ourselves. By the end we were both exhausted and he moved out leaving me very much lost and alone.

And yet, though all of this, through what was a difficult time, many of which I felt alone and down, I learned to live more strongly. To stand on my own two feet. To (for want of a better phrase) find myself again. And I am grateful for that. I spent the next 18 months without a partner and didn't even think about fitting another relationship into my life. It was a time of recovery.

You see, after being with him for so so long, I didn't really know myself any more either. Like him, I had lost my identity too. I just didn't realise it when we were together! It took a long time to get accustomed to being single again and more importantly to find out what it was to be me again. Knowing now how important that is, it was a mistake I will not make again.

I still love him, of that there is no doubt. We grew up together and we share much of our history. Even now we know each other like few others. I miss that deep understanding that doesn't exist in a new relationship... an understanding of each other, so deep that often explanations are not required.

When we broke up, he moved in with a girl from his work and they are still together. Are they happy? Was it the right decision? Are they suited? Is he happy? I don't know really. And to be honest, it's none of my business.

Let me be clear. I am not a threat to his current partnership. I don't want to be with him again. I don't believe we are 'right' for each other. But his friendship and our love for each other (yes, I believe he still loves me too) is still strong. And that means so so much. He will always be a part of me and my life and his friendship means everything.

I have been told our continued friendship is not the norm. That people do not normally remain friends after a break-up. For me however, the answer is yes. You can still be friends with your ex. For me it is an important part of my life that I don't want to lose simply because we no longer share a bed and a home.

I hope that we continue to be friends for our remaining days.

I know I should kick him out, but I don't know how...

I live with my ex boyfriend. We met three years ago and he moved in six months later. It was too soon for him to move in, and whilst I knew it at the time, history will show that it happened despite my concerns.

We continue to live together even though we broke up last September... 12 months ago. We share a flat, but not a bedroom, and he is now seeing someone else. It is a 'complicated' situation and one that is, and isn't working, for a number of reasons. Mostly it isn't. For me in any case.

I had tried to 'call it a day' the previous Christmas and he had gone into meltdown and I had softened. I agreed to keep on trying, despite the fact I knew it wasn't working.

And then at the end of June, my brother was diagnosed with cancer and life was thrown into chaos. It was a blow from which I will never ever recover. I have always known life is far too short, that there is much to do in a limited time. It merely confirmed what I already knew.

As cancer invaded our lives, everything changed.

Things that had seemed important before, meant nothing. Family quite clearly was priority. To say I was shattered is an understatement. Watching my brother succumb to the brutality of cancer broke my heart and it will never be repaired.

At the same time, it confirmed something else I already knew: that by staying in a relationship that was making us both unhappy, I was living a lie. And so, in September, we had 'the talk' and it was over.

I crave my own space and whilst it's 12 months since we broke up, my ex is still here. I can even justify why... the rent money is nice... I can split the bills... he picked me up on a number of occasions as my world was crumbling about me... he can't afford a place on his own... he is a good person...

And yet honestly, I do need my own space. I need space to grieve on my own, space to try to pick up the pieces and space to begin creating again.

I need him to move on so that we can both get on with our lives. I'm just not sure how to make that happen. And whilst he stays and I remain silent, I can blame him and his lack of action, when in reality I should be blaming my own indecision and weakness.

Brave New World

When I began blogging a few years back I made the rather naive decision to tell the world. That is, I let many of my friends and family know where they could find me. By doing so, I was immediately restricted by what I felt I could write. From the beginning I edited carefully what I wrote, because I was aware that often what I wanted to write may offend or shock or hurt people’s feelings.

I couldn’t write openly or honestly about a job that I hate, a relationship that was crumbling, about watching with breaking heart as my brother died of cancer, about the crazy talk going on in my head. For someone who prides myself in being honest and straight talking, I found that I had to self edit and honesty was the casualty.

My private fears and dreams, my tears and my anger, my joys and my hopes all stayed running round in my head. I have not been writing openly or honestly for too long and the joy I originally found in blogging has been lost for a while now. And whilst the friends I have made and the support I have received though my original blog have been amazing, the time has come to make a leap.

So this is me and my new blog. Finding Felix. Welcome.

If you are here, then it is highly likely you will not know me. And yet, by stumbling here you will get to see much of the real me in what I write. I hope you come back and I hope you leave a comment so I can come and visit you too. And with a bit of luck I will make many new blogging friends. Because finding felix is all about finding happiness and friends are a big part of that.

It’s 9 past 9pm on the 9th, of the 9th, 2009. It’s a good time to start again.