We stay up til midnight

Like we used to

Whispering

Curled into each other

This time though

I am using this

As a confessional

I am pouring my heart out

Into his

Into the soaking wet pillow

The things I’ve been afraid to name

Suddenly there

Hanging in the air between us

He plucks them

Like cotton candy

With soft hands

And a delicate mouth

He whispers back to me

The salve to my aching soul

I wake with swollen eyes

But a lighter heart

I pour some of this confession

Into carefully chosen words

To those I support

In the truth we are united

Pouring and refilling our cups

That have been empty too long

Open up your heart

Open up your mouth

Save yourself

We have a big move coming up in about three months.  Since the beginning of the year, I’ve felt that I’ve been bridging the gap between these two worlds and as time goes by so quickly, I feel the divide grow until I feel like I’ll snap.  I’m being pulled in two directions and I’m firmly team here with a fab support system and places to run.  The other direction brings some comfort in the known but also there are knowns that are painful and unresolved in how to deal.

I decided to just let go of the there for now (only tuning in to what’s necessary to think about in the moment) and be a tourist in this place that I am now….to fully experience it in all it’s beauty and sights as if I’m looking at them again for the first and possibly last time.  It’s bittersweet, this…the rush of euphoric chemicals swirling in my brain with just the dark edging of sadness that I cannot hold these moments tightly, they are slipping away no matter what I do but I can be open to the experience just the same.

It struck me this morning, though, that this is life, yeah?  We are always bridging the gap between two worlds.  No matter what your view of the afterlife or lack thereof.  We are between existence and non (or stardust or heaven or hell or reincarnation or…) every second of the day.  So perhaps it’s time to play the constant tourist in life.  Enjoy the fuck out of as much as possible because this could be the last time you’re seeing it through these eyes.

One day we will look back on this long anticipated vacation that ended with both kids having a stomach bug and laugh.  Today is definitely not that day…

Shake Me Down

**trigger warning for sexual assault**

The air grew cooler
And I gave up
I was a stupid pawn
Pressed into your hand
A toy to pacify you
The wildly swinging giant gorilla
In the room

Self destruction on the tips
Of our intertwining tongues
I wanted to die
And so I think
A part of me did
By your wandering hands later
As I slept off
The burning poison
Choosing to protect others
Above myself always

I stumbled out into the snow
Leaving my shoes
And self-respect behind
Stinging feet and eyes
As I stared at the stars
In the blurry heavens
Making wishes
That would never come true
Sober enough now
To make the drive home

And I learned then
That it doesn’t pay to be kind
To the wrong kind of person
Songs can form on cigarette lips
But it’s all just smoke

I Don’t Think I’m a Morning Person Any More

There are a variety of ways that I wake up unpleasantly.

Often it’s a sleep walking child peeing on me or someone getting really close to my face and saying, “It’s morning time!” as loudly as possible.

Those are terrible, terrible ways to wake up.

This morning, however, was a new level of hell.  The Engineer and I take turns on night duty with the small people so that one of us might have a chance at a decent night’s sleep.  Last night, I was off duty and was enjoying a blissful night’s sleep…until 5:30 in the morning when his damn alarm clock set from the day before decides to blare its fake cheerful sunlight and fucking bird noises at me.  I rolled over to this evil and thought, “What the fresh fucking hell?!”

I couldn’t wrap my brain around what was happening so I flailed around for a bit before grabbing the power cord and pulling it out of the back of the clock.  Too late though as I’m wide awake and pissed off.

As I recount this story to him later, he has the balls to laugh at me and then get upset that he will have to reset his alarm.  Next time, I’m going to dump that fucker on his head.

It’s okay to take a new path sometimes.  Even if you hit a dead end, you got to see something new, you get to see that new thing from a different perspective on your way back, and you’re building strength for your next step.  The real key is to just keep moving.

My Decision Making Process

• Step 1: Overanalyze the possible issue that I am dealing with.  Is it a simple problem?  How can I possibly make this more complex and difficult for myself?
• Step 2: Read some books.  Feel inspired.
• Step 3: Go for a run.  Come home with a clear decision made.
• Step 4: Is this a crazy solution to my perceived problem?  Is it an attainable solution?  Would my mom approve?  Has someone told me it’s a bad idea?  If the answers to those questions are yes, no, no, and yes then party the fuck on because I’ve come up with a great plan!

Persistence Pays Off

About a month ago, I was sick so I took the week off of running because the last time I didn’t and I ended up with pneumonia.  Fun fucking times.  Once I felt better, I laced up and went out and bricked my run.  I had done 9 miles before I took the week off and then I could barely make 1.5 before I quit.

I told myself that this was okay and I was just getting back to it.  I signed up for a half marathon at the end of April and went out the next day to try again.  Fail!  At this point, I’m frustrated but decide to go out again in a couple days…only to fail again.

Cue tantrum!  Why am I even doing this?  What’s the point of running or doing anything if it’s just going to go to hell after a week off?  I just wasted money on a race that I won’t be able to run.  Whine, whine, whine.

Then I told my brain to shut up and I kept going out on schedule and trying.  I still bricked a few more just for emphasis.  Yesterday’s 3 miles were okay.  I still had to continuously tell myself that this is just what we are doing right now and no, we’re not having a heart attack so shut the fuck up already.  Crank up the music and keep moving.

This morning, though, I made it through the 8 miles and managed a better time than I’ve done in a couple months.  I’m glad I kept going and forcing myself to do the thing even when I didn’t see the point at the time.  It’s not always going to be easy but it is always going to be worth it.

Progress is like rain.  Sometimes it’s so gentle that you can barely see or feel it.  Other times it comes quickly, leaving you with a clear view of the path ahead in its wake.

I’ve decided to be less fearful of the storms that rage because of the progress they reveal or bring about.

Welcome to the Jungle

“So wait, let’s get back to the tap-dancing on the yoga mat…” my therapist interrupts and I begin to laugh hard.  It suddenly hits me how absolutely ridiculous and just how many metaphors I have thrown out in the last few minutes.  Major points to him for keeping up with all this shit.

“My brain is my abusive boyfriend,” I announce.  It’s something that’s been tumbling in my head the last few days.  “But I can’t break up with my brain and that sucks.”

How is my brain my abusive boyfriend?  Nothing I ever do is good enough and it keeps a running list of every failure I’ve had no matter how minor.  It loves to bring these things to light when I’m feeling my worst to prove that I have always been unworthy of love.  It keeps tabs on every relationship that fell apart and remind me of my part in the crumbling.  It’s always my fault because if I had just been better in some way.  All of my dreams and talents are shit.  And on and on until I’m tired of fighting and just sink into myself and agree.  I’m too exhausted to fight any more.

“I’m angry and depressed but I’m seeing now that this is my yoga mat to sit on right now and I need to deal with it.”  The yoga mat comes from Glennon Melton Doyle‘s fab book Love Warrior.  Emotions are meant to be felt and we are supposed to sit with them, no matter how uncomfortable and feel them.  That is our job.  I’ve known for a long time that fighting my emotions just prolongs them (except happiness, dammit!).  The yoga mat moment gives me an excellent visual of what needs to be done when I really don’t want to sit with the pain.

“But it’s hard to sit on the mat while my abusive boyfriend is smashing all the glasses against the wall.”  Chaos…there’s always chaos.  The pain becomes nearly unbearable but it’s just emotional pain.  It cannot kill me.  Breathe.  Stay with it.  I tell myself but I just want to get away.

“Can you manage to just wait it out and not make any real decisions while the abusive boyfriend is smashing glass?” he asks.  I think.  “The temptation to set everything on fire is great.  To burn everything to the ground and run.”

“Oh God, I’m a fucking phoenix.  Burn it all to ash then rise up! ”  I say to him.  We talk often of my resilience and how I keep getting so close to the bottom but always come back.  “I’m tired of burning everything to the ground though.”  I add, softly.  So so tired.

It hits me again.  “I’m so damn close to tap-dancing.  This is the tap-dancing thing.” Understandably, he raises an eyebrow.  “Sometimes I feel like I’m a child standing in the middle of a room, tap-dancing my heart out waving my arms yelling, please just see me!”  It’s the step before the bottom because once my desperate dance is ignored, I fall apart.  I’m seeking validation…hope…support.

So much chaos and such a rollercoaster, this is what it’s like in my head all the fucking time.  And this was only 24 minutes into the session…