Sometimes

I sit in the quiet. And it's needed and necessary and I am reminded that as much I feel that I have lost, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I've lost no time. Only gained lessons. I have just needed more schooling than most.

That is all.

Thanks for listening.

Butterflies

A couple of years ago, out of nowhere, the person that I had spent years of my life with suddenly vanished.  It was only days before Thanksgiving that he fell into some emotional paralysis and my world as I knew it seemed to crumble.  There would be years following of back and forths, ups and downs, but ultimately, we would never be able to recover.

Anyway, for that weekend of Thanksgiving I walked around in a state of complete wreckage.  I bashed into walls, literally, fell through floors, drank myself into a broken frenzy, cried, collapsed.  You name it.  However, throughout all of this time, someone was always with me.  My ladies stood guard, watching over.  Letting me grieve and keeping me safe.  At the end of that weekend I was standing in my kitchen.  Nic, on duty, was sitting on a stool, keeping watch.  I remember turning around and looking at her and saying, "I think you can go now.  I am ready to rest."  With trepidation she looked at me, "Are you sure?  I don't need to be anywhere, I can stay."  "I'm sure," I said.  And with that,  I allowed myself the time to close my eyes and stop.  I had mourned enough.  I had done enough damage to myself.  Which is the funny bit.  Destroying myself as penance for someone else breaking my heart.  I think I did that for years. 

I'd like to believe I don't do that as much anymore.  Though I sometimes think that time in my life won't ever pass.  Though it comes in haunting waves in the middle of a moment, it is now a more silent knock.  I am more gentle with myself.  Although 'he' is long since gone, the memory if 'it' still remains.  The 'it' I pray each day releases itself further and further from me so that something beautiful can find its way in.

Another Thanksgiving has passed.  I didn't bang into any walls.  I didn't fall through any floors.  Nobody had to stand watch.  I may in some ways have stood watch over others.  I laughed.  Maybe I shed a few tears but mostly I gave thanks, found gratitude and only let him creep into my thoughts when it was safe for him to do so.  I'd like to believe that year by year and within all of this time and space, I'm finally figuring it out.  I'd like to believe in butterflies again. 

That's all.  Thanks for listening.

Nuff said

Padded Cells

Today I had one of those vibrating moments where everything sort of whizzed around me and I felt all sorts of woozy and out of body.  It happens sometimes.  I won’t go into the details of the moment or what spurred it but it happened nonetheless.

In that moment, I sort of broke my own heart because I realized that as far as I’ve come, I haven’t really come that far - in that one tiny moment, I realized I was still holding on to something that I would be served greatly by if I could release it.

Memories are a dichotomy.  As much as they tell your story they can at times break you.  It’s the elation of remembrance and the burden of it all the same.  The other day I was laughing and then I walked by a painting that he had bought me and my stomach instantly went into that wretched twisty knot place and that was that.  And unfortunately for me – the memories are everywhere.  My home, my thoughts, my ocean.  Although I have woven them into the fabric of myself I find no comfort in accepting them.

I presume I see it all as this invisible blanket that covers me.  Sometimes it’s incredibly heavy – sometimes its light but it’s there, constantly, - weighing.  

I had written a lot about not knowing shit in your 20’s.  To be honest, I’m not quite sure I know shit in my 30’s either.  I seem to be running to stand still and spinning in circles all the same.  My life, as glorious as it is…and it is…is nowhere or nothing of what I thought it would be.  And, what scares me the most – is that I have no idea what it should be.  Although I appreciate the existential idealism that ‘you are where you are supposed to be’ I don’t know if I buy it anymore because ‘here’ kinda hurts and I’ve been ‘here’ for quite some time.  But it’s subtle and it ebbs and flows.  It doesn’t rob me of happiness, it just.....- weighs.

Awhile back I had sort of made a pact with myself to not share so much.  Not write so much.  Not be so open.  I’m not really sure why but I just felt compelled to keep things close and protected.  But perhaps by doing that I’ve kept too much in and it’s all become cluttered and chaotic.  I don’t know.  And likely that’s it…what this place is.  Not knowing.  Today I’m standing in the middle of the fucking ‘not knowing’ room and darlin’ – there aren’t any doors.

Basta.