Last time I catch the bus in Israel.
I catch the Metropoline bus from Mitzpe Ramon to Beersheva and I just stare out the window. I honestly cannot believe that I fly him today after two months of travelling this across this magical country. This country that will forever hold a piece of my heart. I stare out the window at the endless landscape of desert mountains. The desert doesn’t always look the same, the richness is so alive, the scenery changes with almost every turn. From a clear blue sky contrasting with red sandy mountains and smooth rocky cliffs, the closer we get to Beersheva the greener it becomes and the sans are lighter shades of taupes and browns. These montains that hold some of my tears and my screams that I scream as I got to the top of a difficult climb.
I’m just in time to catch the train so I at least don’t have to wait for a long time in the train station. The trains are so spacious in Israel, which helps with all my luggage. I’ve had to sell half my belongings just to fit all the gifts in that I bought for everyone.
I arrive at the airport and before the luggage drop off and being issued my ticket I get asked a million questions. In typical Israeli fashion, each person gets asked a string of questions and my heart bleeds for the poor Canadian girl to my right who has spent about 15minutes being questioned and all I keep thinking to myself is ‘please let me get someone else for the questioning, please don’t let me be questioned by the woman who is harassing the poor Canadian girl’.
And luckily I wasn’t, but I was still questioned and my god did I try to be charming. The questions are as follows:
‘Where in Israel did you travel?’
‘Are you Jewish?’ – I lied and said my grandmother is Jewish, yes ok, I lied in the holy land.
‘Can you speak hebrew?’
‘Can you read or write Hebrew?’
‘Why were you in Turkey?’
‘Where did you stay in Turkey? Do you have family and friends there?’
‘Is there someone we can contact in Israel to prove you were with them?’
‘Did anyone give you any gifts? Are you sure?’
And so on and so on…
Eventually made it through…
I had drinks with Andrew and his whole family this evening, slept over at his house. We’ve spent the last three nights together.
Its easy, its effortless. It feels natural.
We literally high five after sex and say ‘GO US!’
I lay in his arms and he says ‘I love lying this way’
And I reply ‘it feels safe’
I’m the lucky one. The pretty one. The favourite one.
This is what my ex husband thought of me and my family, I was the lucky one and my sister was the underdog. My brother and I were lucky, we fitted in, we were closer to my parents and we were closer to each other. C was the outcast he said, she was the underdog. Perhaps that is why he was always so fond of her.
It must have been incredibly difficult for my parents raising C and it must of been incredibly difficult for C to grow up in our family. ‘You don’t understand how hard it must have been for her when you came along. You the little princess.’
When I was a teenager I always wanted to be like her. She was thin and she was beautiful. She wasn’t sticking her finger down her throat, she wasn’t cutting herself. She was always incredibly loving, a mother by nature, she was a caretaker. She got married a virgin.
Of course she rebelled, she rebelled the most out of us the three of us children. She was flawed, but she was herself and she was perfect to me. I wanted to be just like her once a upon a time.
She was the lucky one. She was the pretty one. She was the favourite one.
Thats how I saw it when we were growing up. Yes my brother and I are closer. I’m the princess, I am. I’m the firecracker and the risk taker and most say I am the favourite and the pretty one. I’m different and I’m a good listener and liberal and supportive. Does it matter? She’s pretty, she has set values, she’s the most wonderful mother. She is smart and she is driven. She is the one that is filled with love all around. She is happy and she is funny. She is a role model. She is kind and she puts family above all.
It doesn’t matter what we are or who we are. We are sisters. It never was and it never will be a competition. It doesn’t matter.
We are who we are.
We are the lucky ones.
‘Lets go for a walk’ he said.
‘Ok, do wanna go for a run or a walk, should I put sneakers on?’ I asked.
‘Doesn’t matter, just come’
‘Okay…’ I said awkwardly
We walked down the road and he seemed anxious, I just shrugged it off and I keep walking down the road, holding his hand and chattering on about nothing in particular. He pulled me to the right and we headed towards the dam. The very empty dam where my brother and sister and I played as kids. I stood looking around at the trash on the ground, the bottle tops, shards of glass and old wrappers polluting the area.
‘Danielle, I love you, you are my world and I never ever want to be without you’ he said out of the blue, pulling me closer.
‘I love you’ I said and I smile.
‘Oh my God! What are you doing?’ I exclaimed as he started lowering himself onto one knee.
‘Will you be my wife?’
Naturally I burst into tears, we held each other kissing, our salty tears sliding down our cheeks.
Two years ago.
New years eve.
Tonight I stood in the kitchen in my parents house. My mum holding me in my arms telling me that she is proud of me, that I am going to thrive. The sadness will linger for long and the healing will take time, but I will heal. Tears running down my cheeks, I’m dry heaving from the emotion. I feel nothing yet I feel everything. Eyes blood shot from the crying and I’m exhausted.
But its over. It will linger and the pain will walk with me for a while still.
But I will be found.
Dear You, (Him, the man I so hopelessly fell for)
I think about you every day. Your soft touch, the way you kissed my forehead when you walked past me. How we lay in bed exploring each others minds and enlightening each others universes. The instant hope we felt as our lips met for the first time. Everything we taught each other about love and life and everything in between.
I’m sending you love and compassion. I miss you deeply but more than that I am grateful. I will forever love you deeply and appreciate what you taught me. I would have loved for you to stay longer, but you have weeded your way out of my world.
Live and let live.
26 years old today and I had three pieces of cake. Am I happy with myself? Not really and I obviously thought of purging and now I’ve had my last slice before. Red velvet, cream cheese icing melting in my tongue – pure bliss.
I didn’t imagine I would be here when I was 26, and I’m not imagining where I will be when I am 36, life doesn’t give into your imagination.
My ex husband didn’t wish me happy birthday.
My mom and dad shed a tear today and told me how incredibly proud they are. They are proud of how I dealt with this year, the person I have become.
I’m not 100% happy with myself right now, but I will say that I am content. My weight is the highest it has been in a while and my clothes are tight and wearing a bikini makes me cringe but I wear it and I wear a brave face and I accept that this is me right now. This is where I have to be right now.
I’m growing, I’m not where I want to be, but I am getting there and I will be found.
I’m not alone and I’ll never be.
My heart is here freezing, as my tears fill my bowl and I’m finally tasting alone. Sat at an ice cream parlour and you broke my heart, now I’m tasting the saddest vanilla.
You’re such a swamp, but you’re all I want.
I miss him.
I feel scared and anxious for the future. Trying to be peace at where I am at this moment. Be free in the learning and be free here and now in this moment. I have no direction and I have no where I’m heading and I guess I am lost. But I am me and that is enough for now.
I will be found and I’m not faking it anymore. I don’t know what or who or when or how. I don’t know what I want from this life. And thats ok for now.
There’s a bright white beautiful heaven hanging over me.
I saw him, he was at Christmas yesterday and we hardly spoke even. We spent the night in the same bed and didn’t speak and didn’t even kiss. We know it’s over, there is nothing to say. We lay staring into each others eyes this morning, kissing softly.
If all works out with the Kibbutz, I will be leaving first. On 30th of April it is my best friends’s wedding and he will be there. That is when we will see each other again.
He told me to visit him in New York – do I hold onto this hope that we will be.
We made each other feel hope again.
We made each other feel whole again.
So calling my husband for his birthday yesterday was an epic fail. Whilst I felt content about our relationship. He felt the opposite.
So since yesterday afternoon I have been bombarded with mail and been called the following – notice that all this name calling is coming from someone who is not emotionally abusive, instead very loving and caring:
You ruined my birthday by calling me. You have put me into a dark depression. You are a liar and a user and you will be exposed for who you truly are.You are a coward.You are mentally ill You’ve been playing the innocent victim to your friends and family. You developed an interest in someone else and discarded me to pursue this interest. I’m not saying you cheated on me. You lived a double life Danielle there are things I know about that you do not know I know about. Danielle people are going to see your true colours in time. You are very ill. You are damaged. I feel deeply deeply sorry for whoever suffers from your cruelty. I sincerely feel sorry for any honest decent human being that experiences the pain your evil causes. They deserve my love – not you. I feel desperately sorry for the poor person that falls in love with your emptiness.
I don’t care what is going on in your life, you don’t speak to people in this manner. No one has the right to think they know anyone better than they know themselves. No one has the right to treat people this way.
Amongst the bliss.
The divorce is official.
It is all over.
I feel indifferent and relieved and perhaps numb…this makes me feel guilty.
I feel light and free.
Scared, liberated, numb, alone, happy, free, guilty, heartbroken.
It’s a moment. Life is filled with moments. The chapter of my life where my husband and I lived as one was wonderful. It was one of my favourite chapters and my favourite moments. Life is filled with moments – and in every moment we feel that it is the most important of our lives and it is. The moments are real and they are fleeting and even when they are hard they are beneficial and part of the journey.