almost
i almost walked out. not just out of our shared bedroom, but out of our life. out of our commitment. out of our love. out of our relationship.
i actually had every intention of leaving. my mind was settled. i had plans. i had made the first steps in coming to terms with what leaving was going to mean.
and then…i couldn’t do it. it wasn’t right. it wasn’t the right thing for me to do. i was overwhelmed by knowing that when all the chips were down, my mind may have said i needed to leave, but my heart and soul knew better.
i came home from working a nightshift that morning and i crawled into the bed we shared, the bed i hadn’t been in for more than a month. i put my arms around her and i wept. i cried for the women we were and the women we had been forced to become. i cried for all we had lost and how motherfucking unfair it was. she never woke up, and i’m glad. that was a “me” moment.
loss changes people. it changes their very being. and sometimes, how you thought someone was going to deal with it couldn’t be further from the truth. and that can break your heart in two. the losses pile on top of one another as grief does its thing. in this odd space of a fractured life, there seems to be no right, no wrong. there is just moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day.
if you’re lucky enough to remain open to it, there is love. there is always love. it is the only constant.
it is the only rule.
momma
i remember you, before i can even remember you.
i cannot explain that any easier than i can explain my love for you. i just know it is so.
i came to this earth completely and totally yours. i’m quite certain we both knew it. the firstborn daughter of a firstborn daughter and on and on…but, still. us? we were different. still are. we are our own thing. we are our own bond. we are one of the only truly unique experiences i believe we’ll ever see. so much is archetypal, yet, you and i? we stand alone. together.
i see you. i want you to always, always know that. that when it feels as though you might be invisible to the world…i see you.
i am soul of your soul, heart of your heart. there is no end, no beginning, ever.
thank you. forever, thank you.
i love you every day.
whopper
so, how much fun was my last post, y’all?
i know, i know.
i blogged in late 2004-2005. and i adored it. then i went through a breakup. and i stopped. because really, who wanted to hear that drivel? i also carry a whopping dose of self-consciousness and i felt embarrassed that all these connections i had made would see the ugly in me and not like me anymore. so instead of that, i broke the connection first. duh.
suffice it to say, i ain’t doing that this time. i’m going to keep writing this drivel. and other stuff. because this is about me. this is my story. my place.
every comment…it’s soul food for me. i need to know that it’s possible someone will say something to me here that could change my course. i will always need to believe in magic. and blogging, writing, connecting….that’s my magic.
you know?
i’m scared shitless. and i FUCKING hate to be scared. i live my entire life in such a way that fear does not affect, much less control, me. and i’m scared to death.
where i am in my relationship, it’s scary. it’s sad as hell, too. how does it happen? how does what is your life, your whole motherfucking life, become so insanely terrible and hurtful.
i honestly never thought i’d be here. i have believed. even when i probably shouldn’t have, i have believed. and i know she has, too.
i thought the last time was the last time. the last broken heart. the last packing. the last missing. the last uncertainty of a future based solely upon myself.
but it seems like it probably wasn’t the last. i don’t know for sure. but i know. you know? anyway, it probably wasn’t. and i’m terrified. and sad and weepy. and it blows. and i have nothing to write lately. and i really hate that. so, it is what it is. that’s where i am.
scarface
my scars burn sometimes.
the one on my face. the ones on my arm. the ones on my heart.
i’m never unaware of them. it’s boring and mostly imperceptible and always deeply personal.
i tell people, patients mostly, that i’m proud of them. that scars are proof you healed.
i’m not lying. what i feel about them is something akin to pride….but not quite that. validation, maybe, that i can live wholly beyond terror. and i can. live wholly. but i don’t, not all the time. and i’m certainly not always proud of it.
some days itfeels as though those scars are the only things that belong only to me.
Breaking The Point
today i have the honor of having an article on the most rad curvygirlguide.com. i am such a huge fan of this site, i hope you’ll visit and show some love.
welcome!
seen on a church sign on my way to work: “don’t forget people are watching you”.
good job, ambassadors of jesus, for promoting the love and acceptance and non-judgmental-ness *it’s a word, what?* that our father spoke about during his time on earth. it makes me all kinds of warm and fuzzy every single time i see displays of divine love like that. it totally makes me want to come to your church, for sure.
LOVE IS THE ONLY RULE PEOPLE.
