I Lost Myself

I lost myself.  In the desire to please, in my need to be loved, in my overwhelming love for you, I lost myself.

I've struggled for so long to find her, the ever elusive Victoria.  Who is she?  What does she like? What does she want?  What is her truth?  I've talked to her and listened to her.  I've sat in silence with her.  I've played with her.  Slowly, so very slowly she has learned to trust me.  She has begun to speak her truth.  She has come out of her shell.

And then there was you. Confident and strong and appealing. I wanted you more then I wanted her. She knew. She felt it. So she quickly retreated into the shadows.  She let me, the false front lead the way.  She stopped speaking and let me speak for her.

She cried in the shadows while I played and laughed and loved. But it wasn't true, it wasn't real, it wasn't me.

I betrayed myself for you. I lost myself in you.

Until I remembered.  I remembered her, my true self.  I spoke my truth.  I believed in me.  I loved me, more then I loved you.

Just like that you vanished on the winds. My truth was no match for you.  My strength was so much greater then yours.  My love for myself was the most powerful love of all.

I have no regrets. I forgot myself for a moment but discovered my truth for eternity.  I lost you but found myself.  I loved you but I love myself more.

In the Belly of the Whale

Alone in the dark, I sit in the belly of the whale.

It hits me.  There's no way out, no where left to run.  I have done all I could do to escape and it didn't work.  In the midst of the storm, I sank into the depths of despair.  Deeper and deeper I sank. 

Then, I woke up here.

Alone in the dark, in the belly of the whale. 

 

I promised God I would do whatever was asked of me.  I vowed to follow wherever I was led.  I said I would let go of whatever was taken from me.

Until too much was asked.  Until I was led too far off the path. Until I lost what I really wanted.

Then I ran.  Afraid of what was in front of me,  I ran.  Terrified to let go,  I clung.  Desperate to have a plan, I fought for control. 

I forgot what was important to me. I reacted out of fear.  I forgot that I came from love,  am surrounded by love and will return to love.  I forgot that I myself,  am love. I forgot that I am always divinely protected. My God will not forsake or abandon me.

In a frenzy to escape my own fear I made some questionable choices. I did whatever I could to distract myself, to bury my emotions ever deeper.  I ran hard until I found myself in the belly of the whale.

Here I stop. There is no where left to run. There is no where to hide.

Alone with my shame in front of my God, I  fall to my knees and submit.  Not my will but thine.

Where ever you send me, I will go.

Whatever you take from me,  I will release.

Whatever you ask of me, I will do.

It's peaceful here, alone in the dark, in the belly of the whale.

It's a good place to rest, to restore my soul, to connect with my God and to make peace with myself.

Today I Wait

I have a warrior heart that can not be broken.  I tell myself over and over again.

Today I woke up and my faith was not bigger than my fear. Instead my fear was huge and overwhelming.

I held love in one hand, fear in the other. I looked back and forth and I didn't have the strength or the courage to choose love.

For the first time, I contemplated that the adventure might not be worth it. It's possible that loving might not be worth the heartbreak of losing.  It's even possible that I should cut my losses, close my heart and walk away.

I thought of getting angry and lashing out. I thought of saying mean things so someone else would hurt as much as I do. I thought of whining and feeling sorry for myself.

I didn't. 

Instead I took a deep breath and another one. I cried a few tears. I sat with with fear and with heartache.

And I wait. Because this will pass. Because eventually my faith will return stronger than ever. Because the adventure is always worth it.

I wait until I have the strength to choose love again.  I wait until I have the courage to open my heart, even when it's hard, even when it hurts.

Today I turn off my phone. I hug my littles.
I go to bed early with my puppy on my feet and I wait.

Because tomorrow I will hold love in one hand and fear in the other and I will have the strength and the courage to once again reach for love.

Count Your Blessings

A lot of bad stuff happens in this world. It's on the news. It's on the radio.  It's in the paper and all over Facebook. 

I avoid it as much as I can. I'd like to pretend I live in my own little bubble where nothing bad can get to me. I don't read or watch the news. I avoid Facebook.  I change the radio station when something comes up. I don't talk about it. I don't write about it and I like to pretend I don't feel it.

Yet this last few weeks I've been feeling off. I don't call it anxiety or depression.  It's not really sad. It's just a little bit off.

Understandable that I might feel a little unsettled, a little overwhelmed.  Even if we take the rest of the world out of the equation, I've just closed my yoga studio and gone back to school. I've sent two kids away to college, one of which has a life threatening illness. I've started a new job.

There's a lot of big changes going on.

The other day a friend of mine posted on Facebook about making muffins. I said I needed the recipe and to taste one. Surprise! Within a few hours there was someone standing on my porch with a muffin in a baggie.

It was a little thing, didn't take him far out of his way. But that little moment of kindness reminded me that I am not alone, that I have a tribe.  There are people who love me and would go out of their way to do something nice for me. It made my day. 

That kindness gave me the strength to go on.

A few days later I was still feeling overwhelmed.  I took on too much,  bit off more than I could chew. One day in to the new job I decided to change my mind.  With trepidation I went to speak to my new boss. I told him that I  couldn't  do what was being asked of me. The schedule was too much and they would need to find someone else.

I was ready to quit. Not just the job, everything. Throw in the towel. Life wins this round.

The new boss didn't accept my resignation. Instead he asked me what I needed to make this work for me. He offered less hours, different hours, work from home options.  He told me what was non-negotiable and then offered me the flexibility to make the rest of it accommodate my schedule and my needs.

I left his office. I walked in the grass in my bare feet. I sat in the sun. I may have even leaked a tear or two. Then I went back to work.

He reminded me that there are truly good people in the world. People who are kind and generous. People who are considerate enough to try new things in new ways so that everyone can get their needs met. He showed me that kindness can come from strangers as well as friends.

That kindness gave me the strength to go on.

When life seems big and dark and scary, whether it's the whole world or just your little corner of it,  remember that there are people who love you.  Remember that there is kindness and goodness in friends and in strangers.  Make muffins. Sit in the sun. Drink tea. And always remember to count your blessings not your sorrows.

I still feel a little raw, unsettled, overwhelmed.  I'm not sure I'm strong enough or brave enough or smart enough. I'm scared of what might be. But I sit with my muffin and my tea, I feel the sun on my face and I count my blessings.

Endings and Beginnings

Life is full of beginnings and endings. Starts and stops. Hellos and good byes. Births and deaths.  It's part of the natural circle of life. Some things go so that new things can take their place.

I've always said I'm a quitter, but what I've come to realize is that there is no shame in that. Instead it is one of my super powers. I excel at letting go, at moving on, at releasing that which doesn't serve me.  Rarely do I stay stuck for too long because the winds of change and my thirst for new adventures pull at me until I just have to move on.

I recognize people who are stable and strong like the earth, forever unchanging. I appreciate them for they make me feel safe. But for me, to stay still makes me feel like I'm suffocating, dying.

Years ago I resisted change.  I felt that it was my duty to persevere against all odds, whether I liked it or not. I was like a child told to clear my plate before I could go play. I sulked and I struggled, determined to do the right thing, to finish what I start, determined to not quit.

I was fighting my nature and the ways of the world. Endings and beginnings. 

Until finally I made a deal with my Source, the God of my understanding. I said that whatever was placed in front of me, I would do, and whatever was taken away from me, I would release. It's often much harder to release what I want then it is to embrace the challenges in front of me.

Right now I'm in a time of ending and a time of beginning. With the ending comes sorrow, I grieve as I let go. With the beginning comes excitement as I step into a new adventure. With both come challenges.

It is time for me to close my yoga studio.  It is not serving me well right now. My children will only be young once and every class I teach is an hour I won't get back with them, a dinner, a concert, a baseball game missed. 

I love to teach and I love my yoga peeps. I will miss spending time with them. I accept this ending with a heavy heart.

With every ending comes a new beginning. This week I start college again on the road to a B.S. in Psychology with a Concentration in Addiction. I also begin volunteering as a Recovery Coach so I can get experience and hour towards becoming a Certified Recovery Support Worker.

Most of the time I don't know where the path in front of me will lead. I have no idea where I will land or what comes next. What I do know is that it takes courage and strength to accept the endings and embrace the beginnings. Living authentically, choosing what brings joy and meaning to you life, and chasing your dreams is worth the price of the endings and the challenge of the beginnings.

What's Your Choice?

Something happens, someone does something and we're hurt. We might get angry. Maybe we cry and grieve, then it's over. We forgive but we don't forget.

We tuck the memory down deep inside. We might even forget that it's there. Until something happens to make us remember. 

It's a little thing, nothing really, but it triggers something in us. Fear rises up. It's a learned reaction. Perhaps an overreaction.

Then we face the choice. Do we close our heart to protect from the pain that's possibly coming? Or do we open to the experience?

Lessons learned we claim as we turn away, turn our back, shut down and close our hearts.

The lesson learned is to protect our heart. Protect our hearts at all costs. Shut people out. Stay safe.

It takes a rare kind of courage to face your fears, to remember past hurts and step forward into an experience that triggers those fears. It may not be the smart thing to do. It may lead to new hurts. It may stretch you out of your comfort zone.

It may.

Or it might give you new joy. It might give you new strength. It might give you new memories to cherish. 

How do you choose between the safe path and the adventure? Adventures have no guaranteed outcome. Perhaps you'll make it out alive, whole and content. Perhaps you'll come out the other side battered and broken. You don't know unless you try.

We're given the choice over and over again in this life, to take the safe path or to head out on a new adventure.

There is no right or wrong choice. Some days we need the safety and security of the known. We need comfort and consistency. Other days we are ready to set sail on the open seas and go where the wind takes us with an open mind and an open heart.

I am not stupid and stubborn for repeating patterns that have led to hurt in the past.

You are not shallow and weak for avoiding past hurts and keeping your heart safe.

There is no shame in either path. There are just lessons to be learned for both of us.

Exposed

I live with my heart on the outside of my body. Constantly exposed, raw and vulnerable.

So I build walls. I use those walls to keep people out, to insulate my heart, to keep me safe. The walls keep me from feeling more then I can bear.

They allow me to pretend that I can't see the pain and sorrow of the world. They separate me, just a little, from the anger and the fear. And we're all much more comfortable if I accept your lies as truth. Those lies you tell yourself and the world until you believe them. I don't want to see your hidden truth.  I don't want to look beyond the surface.

So I build walls to protect myself. I nod and smile when you tell me your untruths.  I keep you as far from my heart as possible. Because if you don't have the strength to confront your own truth you certainly don't have the strength to hold the space for my truth. If you have to hide from your own emotions, you do not have the courage to sit with mine. 

I hide behind my walls and pretend that I don't see you.

Until somehow there's a crack.  I let down my guard. I love more then the walls can contain.

It's like standing naked in a storm. Thunder and lightning, wind and rain. Every sense bombarded. Nerve endings screaming.  

Too much, too soon, too fast.

Not safe. 

It hurts me.

It hurts so bad.

I cringe and I cower. I run and hide.  I tell my own lies. Whatever I need to do to make the pain stop.

I push people away. I shut them out.

Then I rebuild the walls around my heart. I don't want to see you.  I don't want to hear you.  More then anything, I don't want to feel you inside of me.

I live with my heart on the outside of my body. Constantly exposed,  raw and vulnerable.

Listen to the Whispers

Sitting on my yoga mat I say whatever comes to mind. I wonder sometimes if it is the students that are listening to me that need to hear my message or if the messages come through me but are really for me.

Listen to your body, I say it over and over. Your body will tell you what it needs. It will give you small, subtle messages and it is for you to act on them. If you don't act on those subtle messages your body will scream at you to get your attention.

I say this in a class where someone has arthritis, someone has had open heart surgery, someone has had a stroke and someone is hemorrhaging blood.

It's too late for the subtle clues, we are past that.

Are we listening yet?

On the outside we all look fine. We go to work, we take care of our families, we smile and laugh. While on the inside it feels like our bodies have betrayed us.

What went wrong? Why me?

Are we listening yet?

I am the yoga teacher. I am supposed to know better, to do better. Yet it is I that is slowly losing my life force. I get dizzy sometimes and running up the stairs leaves me winded and light headed.

I'm bleeding out. It is a hormonal imbalance. I should be too young for menopause. The doctor checked for cancer and it's not that. So what is it? 

It is my body screaming at me to listen.  Listen now, before it's too late. Make changes, rest more, connect with people, find your truth and live it.

My body is screaming at me while blood pores our of my vagina. I leave blood stains on my sheets and on my jeans and even on my yoga mat. So much blood can not be contained.

Yet my life goes on as normal. No one questions, no one notices. 

I have a choice. It is a choice that faces all of us at some point. I can do something different or I can ignore what my body is telling me. I can have surgery where a part of my body is cut out of me and then proceed with my life like nothing ever happened or I can make some changes. 

I wonder, if I have surgery and let my uterus be removed from me, what message will my body give me next? If I don't slow down and listen to the screams how will the message manifest the next time? What does listening to my body even look like? 

Listening to my body means taking a nap, and going to bed early.  It means saying no to new commitments.  It means taking a walk or resting with my legs up the wall.  It means eating fresh fruit and yogurt.  It means exploring my childhood wounds.  It means having tea with my best cousin. It also means calling my doctor and then listening to her, taking iron supplements.

This is what my body is telling me.  I focus on nurturing myself and healing my wounds.  

What is your body telling you?  What do you need to do more of?  What do you need to stop doing? Who do you need to spend more time with?  Who do you need to spend less time with?  What emotional wounds are manifesting in your body?  What are you denying and ignoring and rejecting about yourself?  

You are the only one that can do this work.  Listen to your body as it whispers to you, make changes before it starts to scream. You are worth it. 

The Ones You Want

Why does loving some people come so easily?

Sometimes you meet someone and you love them.

No questions asked, nothing required,  

Just pure love, forever and ever, till death do us part.

Their imprint on my heart is deep and enduring.

I may see them again or not. 

They may be kind to me or not. 

We may be friends or not.

I will love them anyways. 

Then there are those others.  

The ones you want to love. 

The ones you try to love. 

The ones that break your heart over and over and over.

Those are the ones you want.

The ones that make you stretch and grow. 

The ones that challenge your beliefs.  

The ones that leave you broken, wounded,  alone in the dark.

You may think the adventure wasn't worth it. 

But those ones, the ones that make your life hard,

Those are the ones that change your life. 

They define you.

You can break. 

Or you can get stronger. 

You can close your heart or you can learn to love deeper.  

You can turn your back or you can lean in.

Home

I need to go home. 

There is something that pulls at me. Something unknown, unseen, almost unfelt, builds inside me, getting stronger and stronger until I can't resist.

I need to go home.

I've lived away for over 16 years. I've a new home, family, friends, community. I've settled in, I think.

But then that something builds up until it overwhelms me and I have to go.

I never plan to go home. It's always a last minute thing,  a whim. It's time to go.

I get antsy, restless, unsettled. I need to go home.

Then I'm here.  I sit at a border crossing waiting with a slow bubble of excitement inside.

I'm home!

Finally something in me settles, eases. It's like a weight I've been carrying is set down. What a relief!

There is something comforting about recognizing the names of streets and towns and stores, the speed limit being in kilometres and the temperature being in Celsius. 

I see Canadian Tire and Tim Hortons. There is the Husky with a giant flag, an Esso station. Signs are in French and English.  So are cereal boxes.

Homo milk comes in bags.

No one ever makes comments about my accent or the way I say "been" (like a bean not like a bin.)

Everywhere I go there is my name on street signs.

The names of the towns are familiar and full of memories. I never get lost here. No matter where I go I'm never turned around. Unlike America where I still get lost after 16 years.

This will always be my home. I was born here, raised here.  My babies were born here.

I played here, loved here, cried here. This is where my roots are.

I cry when I leave. 

A Taste of Love

A smile that lights up your whole face when you see me.

Joyous laughter that you just can't contain.

My face covered with your kisses.

I have found you.

Lift me in your arms and swing me around.

Touching, hands, face.

Shoulders leaning against each other.

Can't take my hands off you.

Can't take my eyes off you.

I have finally found you.

Sweet soft kisses in the night.

Tender touches.

Gazing into each eyes.

Two heads on one pillow.

Shared secrets whispered nose to nose.

I didn't know how much I missed you until I found you.

Dawn comes and so does reality.

A last lingering kiss.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Until the next time.

I will love you.

The Unseen Self

I learned early on to not need anyone. 

I learned that people were not to be trusted.

 

I learned that secrets were best kept to myself.

These lessons have stuck with me. Put on a pretty face and keep everyone at arms length. They don't even realize that what they see is an illusion. No, no one ever looks that closely. No one sees that clearly.

Me, my authentic self is buried so deeply, kept so tightly under wraps that she remains invisible. Never seen. Never heard. Never touched.

Always alone and achingly lonely. But never willing to take the risk to be seen.

Polite, most always. Friendly and kind. Proper of course. Serene. Confident and capable. I wear the mask well.

I'm not sure even I know who she is, lurking deep within.  Beneath the fear and the mistrust, under the layers of propriety and responsibilities, there's someone, longing for something.

I'm just not sure what. 

She gives all she has to give. She loves easily and often. She sees goodness in everyone.  She hopes, always hopes for a brighter, better future where love wins over fear.

Her tears leak out of my eyes. Her heart aches in my chest. Her voice screams inside my head.  I know she's there.  I feel her longing for somone to see her, to love her.

I wonder what would it take for her to feel safe. What would have to happen for her to speak her truth? Who could possibly love so truly and deeply that their love could reach through her walls and touch her?

I think perhaps it's a lost cause. That she will forever remain lost in the darkness. This proper practicality, this unending loneliness, this is my past, my present,  my future.

I grieve for her.

But still she hopes.

Sometimes I Get Lost

Sometimes I get lost.

Lost in the darkness.
Lost in confusion.
Lost in emotions.

I can't find the way out.
I can't find the way up.
I can't find the light.

I flounder around.
Nothing gets accomplished.
Clutter and chaos surround me.

I don't know which way to turn.
I don't know what path to follow.
I can't tell friend from foe.

I'm lost. 

Lost in tears.
Lost in heartache. 
Lost in the darkness of the unknown.

 

Reaching for someone.
Searching my heart.
Yearning for an answer.

Sometimes I get lost and I need someone to come and find me in the dark.

A Good Girl, In a Box

I see myself through your eyes and I'm a stranger. I don't know the woman that you see.

I look at you and I listen to the things you say about her and I wonder, who is this woman that you speak of?

I'm not sure if I like her.

Yet you've known her for years. You've made assumptions about her and speak them as facts. 

You have no doubts that I am she.

I feel a box closing in around me. Hemmed in. Told by someone else who I am and what I think and why I do what I do.

It's uncomfortable.

I let it all slide over me, feeling a little battered, a little shell-shocked. I feel almost violated because in your assumptions you have taken away my right to be me. You have created, at least in your mind, a vision of who I am.

This other me layers on like a second skin and it's uncomfortable. But I let it sit, try it on for size. Is it real? Is it true? I find that it is true for you, but not my truth.

I walk away and shake it off. Because it isn't me. It isn't my truth.  It is your truth, your perceptions, your assumptions and expectations. It's all you.

Late in the night I sit alone with my tea and my heartache. A lone tear tracks a path down my cheek.  You will never know me because I am already defined in your mind.  You will never see me because all you can see is the box that you've created to contain me. I will never reach you because I can't escape that box. 

I know that you are more comfortable when I am contained.  You need a box to define me so that I make sense to you. You've placed me here for your own sanity,  your own peace of mind. 

I will stay here for you, a good girl in a box, so that you are not stretched out of your comfort zone.   

I will let you define me when I am with you because I love you, because I don't want to lose you. 

I am strong enough to wear your expectations like a second skin, denying my truth so that there is space in your life for me.

For now.

Until the box gets too tight.

Until the expectations get too heavy.

Until your truth becomes my burden.

Then it becomes your choice, to stretch your comfort zone, to let me out of a box, to see who I really am, or to walk away.

I will always love you. No matter what choice you make.

For now, for as long as I can, I will remain a good girl, in a box for you.

Struggling to the Surface

There is a voice pounding inside my head and a soft pleasant smile on my face.  It rages, cursing and screaming in a place no one can see, hidden behind gentle eyes.

There is a voice screaming to be heard. Anger and frustration, pulsing and pounding, searching for acknowledgement. 

My throat stays closed, ever silent, while tears leak from the corner of my eyes.

Rage builds, vile curses bouncing off the inside of my skull, scorching my inner ears. Rage that sucks me down into the abyss. Drowning under the fear and hate.

Time after time I struggle to the surface, grab a breath of joy, of love. Sweet baby kisses, tail wagging, sun rising beauty. It soothes for a second.

Then I sink, again, into the hate, the anger.

There is no saving me from the maelstrom. I sink, then I kick to the surface. Hoping that that one little breath will keep me going until I make it to the surface the next time.

There is the ever present fear that maybe, this next time I won't make it back to the surface. Or the breath won't last long enough. Maybe this time the raging voice will win the battle. Maybe this time I'll succumb to the depths.

Or maybe I'll float through the storm one more time.

Was it Worth It?

The adventure is always worth it, I say with a smile.

Not everyone agrees with me. 

If it scares you, step into it. Do it anyways.  I say that a lot too.

It wasn't always that way. For years I was ruled by fears, those of my own and those instilled in me by well meaning others. Until one day I stepped out of my comfort zone. I cried. But I did it anyway.

The thirst for adventures, for something new and exciting comes from two things.  The first is the overwhelming desire to live. I want to experience all life has to offer. I want to do it all, see it all. I don't ever want to wonder, what if?

The second part of that is my deep seated need to know me. To delve deep and see who I am underneath the layers of fear, or propriety, of should haves that society layers on.

I want to live my truth but I don't even know what is true for me. Except that I know that the adventure is always worth it.

Always.

Until it isn't.

Until it hurts and it's hard and it's scary.

Until it leaves you gasping for breath and sobbing in the shower, where no one can witness your pain.

Until it breaks you and leaves you with memories that forever haunt you.

Maybe it was a love affair that broke your heart and your trust and left you weeping and  nauseated for weeks and month.

Or that one time when you sailed and swam naked in the ocean just to puke up your cherries afterwards leaving you pale and shaken.

That one time that the adventure wasn't worth it, that once, it forever changes you. 

It becomes your cautionary tale. You use that one time to justify every other time that you let fear win.  It becomes the reason to step away from the next adventure, and the next one. Until once again you live a life ruled by fear.

Where is that line? The one that turns an exciting adventure into a cautionary tale?

I haven't found it yet. I've never once been too broken of heart or body to leap wholeheartedly into the next adventure. 

Not once. 

Yet I've begun to tread lightly. Taking care of my heart and my body. Feeling my way forward with care, ready to abandon the adventure if it becomes too much.

I'm riding the fence again. Not in, not out. But undecided.  

Is the adventure going to be worth it this time?

I am a Lady

I am a lady.

Polite and refined, in a skirt and heels or jeans and a hoodie. I don't curse and I'm never vulgar.  I know how to set a table, how to fold a fancy napkin and which fork to use when. I carry tissues in my handbag because a lady always has tissues. I don't chew with my  mouth open and I never, ever spit.

I am a lady. I can take apart a washing machine,  fix it and put it back together. I can repair a refrigerator but I won't touch a microwave. I can take a plunger to the clogged toilet and I know how to snake a drain.

I am a lady. I have cut the grass, weeded the garden and started a fire. I take out the trash and I can shovel snow if I have too.

I am a lady. I can bake and decorate a cake. I can make a fantastic pot roast with gravy. I can sew a quilt or a flowing gown. I can arrange flowers. I can make an incredible, melt in your mouth, pie.

I am a lady. I can clean the kitty litter. I can shovel shit out of the chicken coop. I can even kill, clean and pluck the chickens before cooking them up for dinner.

I am a lady. I can charm a man into giving me a deal on a new set of tires. I can get a kiss from the deli guy along with my pound of roast beef. I can make friends wherever I go.

There is nothing I can't do because I am a lady.

I can do it all and do it on my own but I want more. 

I want to be petted and pampered. I want someone to bring me flowers, shovel the snow and take out the trash. 

I want to be loved and cherished. I want to be woken with sweet kisses.

I want someone who knows how I like my tea and cares enough to make it for me before I get up in the morning. 

I want to play and go on adventures with a partner. 

I want someone who can see me, hear me and cares enough to look and listen.

I want someone to see more than a pretty face. I want someone to see the core of strength that hides within. 

Don't ever underestimate me. There is nothing I can't do because I am a lady.

I Remember This Day

I remember this day,  the phone call that broke my heart.

I remember the tears that I couldn't stop.

I remember trying to catch my breath because the pain cut so deep it overwhelmed me.

I remember the people who paused to ask me if I was okay.

I remember the frantic phone calls that you didn't answer, the distraught messages I left for you.

I don't know if I said it out loud but I remember begging you, at least within my mind, to please pick me.

Please pick me. Don't leave me.

I remember curling into a ball, my arms wrapped around myself, rocking, while I sobbed, great heaving sobs while grief tore me apart.

And then I ran.

I've never run before. Maybe because I've never hurt like that before.

Within hours I was on my way.

I remember driving with tears dripping down my face.

I remember being wrapped in the safe circle of my best friends arms while I sobbed out my grief and hurt.

I remember rocking in her hammock. She made me feel safe.

She started to put back together what you broke.

I remember the rage that came after, when I threw your shirt in the trash and unfriended you on Facebook.

I remember trying so hard to forgive you for hurting me.

I remember the ever present resentment that I couldn't shake.

I remember trying to convince myself that I never really loved you and that you never really loved me.

I remember this day that hurt me so much that it made me forget everything that went before.

I remember only the hurt that made me forget how much I loved you.

I forgot the sound of your voice.

I forgot the way you laughed.

I forgot your smile and the way your eyes crinkle.

I forgot that you knew me better then I knew myself sometimes.

I forgot cribbage games and kisses.

I forgot it all in the pain of remembering this day.

Until I remembered that there was good too.

It was in remembering that I realized that I loved you more than I ever knew.

I love you still. I always will.

Broken

Some days are designed to break you.  Like ice building up on a sapling, eventually it gets to be to much to bear. You bend and bend and bend until you snap.  Broken - body, mind and soul.

What then?

People have such strength that breaking doesn't come quickly. It is never just one thing. It is months and years of holding on, clinging to hope. It is a messy combination of hurts and forgiveness.

Bending and compromising.  Hoping and praying. Searching for answers. Yet sometimes there are no good answers.  Sometimes hurts become too heavy to bear. Sometimes to forgive takes too much effort.

What then?

When you hit the wall, when you have nothing left to give, when every breath hurts... what then?

After the tears,  what's left?

When all your energy is spent, when all the tears are cried, when all the words have been said, what's left?

The rebuilding of a life of broken dreams, comes next.

Trying to forgive,  learning to trust, speaking your truth. A brick at a time.

A brick at a time. 

One small step, followed by another. 

Time and patience are crucial. Because in another five years, this is but a memory.  It hurts and it's hard and everything feels hopeless.  But all it takes is one small step, one brick.

A moment to smile, a quick laugh and eventually you realize that you made it through one day without tears. Go to bed and wake up in the morning and do it again. One more brick.

Eventually you look back and the landscape of broken dreams is far behind. 

Not forgotten,  never forgotten.  But no longer urgent and all consuming.

You realize that you made it though. You survived.  You're stronger then you ever thought possible.

But today, it hurts and it's hard. Today you cry your tears. Tomorrow will be soon enough to start rebuilding.

Imprisoned

Locked in a little room, no windows, no way out. The clang of a heavy steel door shakes me to my core. Imprisoned.

What ever did I do to deserve this?

I did my best. I tried, hard. Yet here I am, still trapped. With no way out.

My cage is built out of my own fears. The bars that hold me, my own past. The banging of the door is the litany of my shame.

There is no way out of the room that I've built to imprison my own soul.

We all have them. They are built with our fears, our guilt and our shame. We are trapped by expectations of ourselves and others. We layer on responsibilities, jobs and bills and kids. We carry our past like a heavy burden that we can not lay down.

Truly we have built ourselves a prison stronger than any prison man can build out of concrete and steel. We guard our hearts more fiercely than any guard in a uniform would.

We are locked deep within a dungeon of our own making. We are not free.

We do not have the freedom to speak our truth for fear it will hurt others. We do not have the freedom to follow our hearts deepest longing for fear of letting 'them' down. We do not have the freedom to show anyone our true selves, for fear they will judge us and find us lacking.

So we live lives of imprisonment, aching to be free, to be seen, to be loved.

We experience a loneliness so deep that we are shaken to our core, sometimes even beyond what we can bear.

The only difference between me and an inmate is that they know they are imprisoned. They have made their prison into a reality that we all can see. They have lost their illusions.

I carry the illusion of freedom with me. I can pretend to be free when I stand with my feet in the ocean. Yet my fear never leaves me. I can pretend to be free when I walk down the street hand in hand with my love, yet the loneliness walks with me.

I can pretend all day long, yet I still cry myself to sleep every night.

I am locked in a prison of my own making. We all are. The only thing left to do is to make peace with it.

My Foolish Heart

My foolish heart.

Why do you weep? Throw yourself away again

Then cry yourself to sleep.

I weep for the children of the world who are lonely and sad.

I weep for the lovers of the world who are far apart.

I weep for those who are old and forgotten.

I weep for those who ache to be loved, yet are still alone.

I weep for those who hurt so deeply that they lose themselves.

I weep for the gorillas, the pandas and the elephants.

I weep for the oceans full of trash.

I weep for the forests that get smaller every day.

I weep for the world I will leave my children.

I weep for the people in the world.

Mostly, I weep for myself. 

I weep for the deep, unrelenting loneliness that walks with me every day.

I weep for the child that was beaten and molested and, even worse, ignored.

I weep for the girl that didn't have the strength to say no to her molester so just lay still and cried silently.

I weep for the girl that spent her childhood aching to be seen, to be heard.

I weep for the teen that sat on the edge of a bridge longing to slide into the water and never come up.

I weep for a baby denied and unwanted.

I weep for a husband hurt and children crying themselves to sleep at night.

I weep for lives filled with hatred and anger.

I weep for expectations and disappointments.

I weep for hopelessness and loneliness.

I weep for lost dreams and wounded hearts.

 

I weep for me and I weep for you.

My foolish heart,
When will you learn?
You are the eyes of the world
And there's no where else to turn.

What Do you Do?

What are you supposed to do when people are mean? What do you do when your heart hurts and you want to cry?

Because people are mean and they are cruel. Unfortunately it seems like the ones you love hurt you the most. 

So what do you do then? Your mother,  your lover, your very best friend do or say hurtful things. There is a sense of shock, a catch in your breath. Why cries in your mind. Why? Whatever did I do to deserve this?

Did I do something wrong? Am I unworthy of your kindness?  Is it my fault? 

I stop talking when I'm hurt. I might walk away or turn my head while I figure out what to do next.

Am I supposed to speak my truth? Confront you with my pain?  Should I tell you that you have hurt me? Did you mean to? Did you want to? Because you did.

Or should I go cry in a corner and feel sorry for myself? Oh poor me. No one will ever love or respect me the way I deserve.

Should I get angry? Maybe yell at you,  give you the silent treatment or even say something mean back. Will that make me feel better?

Different days, different people, different circumstances, I've tried each. Yet people are still mean and my heart still hurts.

Now I offer compassion and forgiveness. I bite my tongue and cry my tears in private. No one knows the hurt in my heart.  It is mine alone.

I inspect my wounds. I look at where I am taking other people's words and actions personally, instead seeing them as fear and a longing for love.

And I wonder at what point do you walk away? When does the pain overpower the love? When does the joy no longer compensate for the hurt?

How much can any one person take and still keep their heart held open?

What do you do when people are mean and your heart hurts?