time travelling

I like to think of this thing we call time

As fluid, elastic and stretched across space

Ready to snap when the tension’s too much,

And our fingers are finally ready to touch.

The reason we’ve not made contact before

Isn’t because we were not meant to be,

But rather we’ve had to travel so far

On a journey that raises this galaxy’s bar.

I started a thousand years forward

And you were a million years back.

But when two people are so meant to be

The laws of physics are loosened and free.

And so we are hurtling through time and through space

Until the deep impact where we did first meet.

Remember that bone jarring crash on that day

When fate and good fortune came into play?

Russian roulette according to Britney

I’m trying my best to weigh up the risk.

It’s a gun to my head with a five out of six

Chance that there’s nothing I can possibly lose,

A throw of the dice I can hardly refuse.

But what if it all goes horribly wrong,

The pull of the trigger, my final swan song?

What is the risk that this leap could pose?

The answer to this question, only God knows.

But oh when it works, it’s like nothing on earth

The fear, it evaporates with the new birth

Of a love that can feel like the very best drug,

A kiss on the lips and the tightest of hugs.

With love, you should go ahead and take the risk of getting hurt because love is an amazing feeling.

Britney Spears

the sideways glance in a supermarket

It can start with something so simple.

Just two people standing in line,

Paying for groceries, side by side.

A glance and just half of a smile

And then the journey it starts.

An intricate dance through the years

A million more laughs and a sprinkling of tears.

And then in the blink of an eye,

It’s all over and together we lie.

It could have been luck, merely by chance,

But I guess we will never know if magic did spark

Because of that sideways glance.

I really do believe that everything is written out in the stars, our journeys already mapped out before we are even born. And when it comes to love it is no difference. We are put in the queue in the supermarket at the right time so that we can be there at exactly the same moment as the love of our life. I don’t think it’s an accident that they are there.

I sometimes find it funny though, that something as monumental as a lifetime of memories built together can rest on something as simple as whether we bought our bread and milk at the right time and in the right store.

So often we can be with somebody for decades and when we look back at that first meeting we realise how easy it could have been to miss that moment altogether.

And it really does pass in the blink of an eye. One moment you are twenty and making eyes at somebody in the next line and the next thing you realise you have grandchildren and you’re both slipping away from this earth.

I think it’s Christmas and New Year that makes me think this way. Something new could be beginning in the next twelve months and it’s a lovely thought. But at the same time there will be people that we lose over the next year and with them a whole load of memories will vanish.

Make the most of the time you have with these people. Enjoy the dance, even when it’s a little tricky. And most importantly, make sure that 2020 is filled with memorable moments and strong relationships that are good for your soul.

Much Love,

Rachel xx

impossible probability

As sure as the Titanic will sink

And as sure as it is that Jack will die.

As sure as the princess will marry her prince,

And as sure as the sun will rise in the sky.

So too, is it certain that I will be hurt.

It is impossible to please you

And so I could try to hang on

Or sink like that ship, or rise into view.

Whatever may happen I wish I could change

The way things unfurled like a roll

Of silver screen film, just slightly less easy

Upon my fragile, weak soul.

I’m hurting, I’m dying.

The impossible probability

Is that I’ll just give up trying.

Christmas was hard this year. I missed my mum. I texted her but I got no answer and it hurt more that I can put into words. However, it has made me aware that until I let go, I’m stuck. I have to accept that she is not coming back. She has made her position very clear and although the next few steps that I take are going to be very painful, they are very necessary if I want to begin to heal.

Sometimes the steps forward are the hardest as you tear away from the old and start something new. I see it a little like two sides of a sheet of corrugated cardboard being pulled apart. It is difficult and you will leave parts of yourself behind, still attached to the other side, but you can do it.

If you’re struggling to make that step forward in a part of your life then I know exactly what you are going through. Just remember that it’s not necessarily over forever. Jack may die in the movie, but you can watch it again from the beginning and there he is again. Just give it a while so that the plot is hazy in your mind, the edges are softened a little.

I believe in you and I hope that 2020 can begin to heal some of the wounds that you may have acquired this year.

Much Love,

Rachel xx

It's Christmas Eve

She sat at the kitchen table and looked down at her left hand. The wedding band already seemed alien to her, like it didn’t belong.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I really do love her.”

He wiped a tear from his eye and she wondered what he had to cry about. It was he who had made the choice. This was all in his hands.

“So what now?” she asked.

“I have a cab waiting for me downstairs,” he said, more to his feet than to her.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “Let’s not make this any more painful than it needs to be.”

She felt her eyebrows raise but she remained calm. He flinched as his fingers tightened around the handle of his suitcase. He dipped his head and slipped out of the apartment quietly. The door clicked shut behind him and she was bathed in a heavy silence.

She removed her ring from her finger and dropped it into the champagne flute on the table in front of her. She was reminded of the day that he proposed as she swilled the ring around in her glass. He had dropped it into her glass that day, as they sat in the fancy restaurant. It had been the happiest day of her life.

Without thinking, she pulled the glass back and forcefully launched it at the closed door. It smashed satisfyingly against the wood, glass skittering across the floor. It was over. She smiled a half smile as she rose to her feet and left the room.

Stepford Wives

I wish that I had once been told

That every person has their flaws.

They may tilt a head and smile

But pain exists behind closed doors.

If I had known what lay beyond

Those polished doors of red and blue

I would not have spent this life

Trying to be someone new.

Stepford wives are never real

Inside their homes they’re known to cry,

Before they even step outside

Their plastic faces are wiped dry.

God forbid, we ever knew

That circuit boards could sometimes spark

And angry words between two lovers

Come to pass while it is dark.

I spent the entirety of my twenties worrying that everyone was perfect and I was the only one with any flaws. I saw the other school mums who had loving husbands and beautiful houses and I had none of that. It was hard to bear witness to, but it was all a lie.

It took a lot of therapy but I soon realised that we all have problems and a lot of it goes on behind closed doors. Those Stepford Wives that I wanted to be just like, they have arguments with their husbands and their kids sometimes misbehave. It’s human to have ups and downs and none of these people are robots.

We all struggle and it’s especially the case at this time of the year. Even the most put together person is probably going to have a cry at some point this week, so don’t worry about it. Just get your turkey in the oven and enjoy some good food. If you get through it without killing anyone you’ve probably done quite well.

Much Love

Rachel xx

the truth is kinda pointless

Truth be told, I’m battling with the truth.

I mean, what on earth is it? Really?

Holding it up to the light, it’s so pretty.

Light filtering through glass,

Rainbow colours everywhere.

But the patterns on the wall are not the same

For everyone within the room.

Some will see the reds and ultra violet

While others see an orange and a green.

We argue that we want the truth

But how can we fight for a thing

That doesn’t even exist?

A thing that can’t be solid, can’t be tangible,

No matter how hard we do resist.

the kettle is boiling and now you need to f**k off.

Sometimes it is a little too easy

To forget the damage that was done by you.

It is far too easy when the heat is removed

To forget that pain once the water boils over.

To forget that pain as it scorches my skin.

The hurt, it fades. But the scars, they remain.

It’s only when memories bubble to the top

Breaking the surface with a deafening pop,

Do I see what can happen when I let you back in.

I can see in each sphere, as it fizzes on up,

The clearest of pictures, perfectly held.

It is just enough to induce a terror

I feel every time I think of my error,

In trusting you, in loving you, in letting you in.

But bubbles, they burst, and so do these,

And as I pour these memories from my kettle

I know that all you did was test my mettle.

I often picture memories as bubbles that are settle on the bottom of a container and when they are ready to be released they boil to the top. I try to imagine that each memory is contained inside the bubble and I can almost view it as something that I can hold. It’s fragile though. It can burst at any time, and sometimes that’s a good thing.

As I was writing this I wasn’t sure what the heat represented, but I think that it’s therapy and working on myself. It’s meant that I have had to turn the heat all the way up and let those memories simmer away. It’s quite relieving really.

Maybe you should try boiling away some of the bad things tucked away in your mind. Just be mindful that sometimes it’s hot and it can really hurt when you get burnt. But it’s never quite as painful as your original trauma, and one day it will all be better. I hope and pray that you get that relief.

Much Love,

Rachel xx

In a boat with no paddle.

Is it fair that you pushed me away?

And is it fair that you gave me the blame?

Is it fair that you pushed me away?

Knowing full well that I couldn’t get back?

You pushed me away with no oars to use,

And I sat and I watched as I drifted away,

Dreaming of things I was about to lose.

You knew that the wind was surely against me

And you soon were a speck on the hazy horizon,

An old loving friend I could no longer see.

But you knew that my oars were not there,

And you still pushed me far from the bank,

Not worrying about which of the facts were fair.

And then you began to heap on the blame,

As I drifted away, I finally knew

Nothing would ever quite be the same.

Once you had vanished completely from sight,

The sadness and anger began to set in

But I was too tired to put up the fight.

Now there is nothing between us but hate,

The outcome’s uncertain, we’ll just have to wait.

I feel like I’m being blamed for a breakdown in a relationship and I don’t know how I could have done anything differently. Have you ever had that feeling? It’s an uncomfortable knot that forms in your gut and it’s horrible because there’s fuck all you can do about it. It feels like being pushed out to sea without a paddle. My worry is that the person on the beach now has all the power and I am left feeling utterly alone and terrible.

The only way that I can see myself getting through this is by handing it over to a Higher Power and just hoping that I wash up safely on the other side. I have to remember that I have no control over other people so I can’t force them to love me. All I can do is wave goodbye and hold my head high.

Much Love

Rachel xx