hearthurt glad

Positive that I should be asleep, or working, or somehow forward moving. But this is, this is in the big deep ways. I haven't written - really written - in at least 6 months. I feel fragile and vulnerable and yet completely clear and strong and solid standing.

I always forget what words do for me. Ground me, lift me. Find me.

I know I needed this tonight, but couldn't break away from should-do to get to need-to-do. So now dark silence and a bright computer screen and a second (third) glass of wine.

Oh, I've been here. So often, too often. In curled up couches, or quiet corners. In open rooms and back alleys. I have found words in every space. I am feeling fully tonight. Good, sweet. Build-my-home full up on life. Silence between soul-sisters. Sweet tears watching babies grow up. And hard. So much hard. I'm seeing in quick tempers and raised voices and scalding tears how much the past few years have carved out of me. Into me. A totem.

I'm skittish late at night and sometimes, on the hard days, in the glaring sun. I worry and work myself up and drive around in circles avoiding streets we ran. I drive by bricks that hold my beginnings and ends and it astonishes me. It was yesterday and a different life. Staggered steps and chains and broken floorboards and so much heart hurt. I drive by and it's amazing I survived that season after season at all. I drive by and wonder if anyone sees those shadows in my eyes. I drive by, rarely, but with intent. I drive our memory lanes and sometimes smile. I drive and drive and try and try.

And then, I drive a little faster, and turn down a road I hardly know. And find myself in a place I call home. In a place that feels safe. I am still skittish, it's my nature. I am still all the things I've always been. But that clench of fear is gone. I am in a bubble. I wondered if I was running, thinking that was a mistake. It was not. I ran from something that sucked up the air from my lungs. I ran from something that didn't belong. I ran, and took my heart with me.

And am I still running? Or, am I faltered? Another, another stepping stone? I am tired worn to the bone of walking these endless paths to somewhere else. I want to stay. I want forever home love life.

Why the fear in admission? Am I not supposed to want or dream or hope? Am I supposed to lower standards? Or raise them up and hold high?

I'm playing little heart games with myself tonight. For nights in a row. Of you don't mean that don't say that. But, I do. And where's the harm in that? In meaning it and saying it and dreaming it? I am. Fully aware and conscious even in half sleeping slumber. Will the data matter, or will it just be more on a never ending pile? My spreadsheets are full, I'm done.

And then, in late nights, I feel the creep up my back of why why why and remember panic in my chest that locked me up away. I remember my words coming out silent and my tears falling and nothing nothing nothing stopping it. Love, that is.

Would I want, be ready for, that? Again?

I wish sometimes I could say no. I'm not ready don't want push it away. It's like I'll never learn.

And truthfully, I'm so unbreakable-y glad. I've never learned to stop loving dreaming wishing wanting seeing the best.

self truths for love

Truth is, I've been single for nearly 2 years. VERY nearly. And even before that, there was zero stability or health in a relationship.

So, I've been thinking a lot about this subject.

I told a friend, somewhat in jest but mostly honesty, that I was "so over chasing men". And the next day bemoaned how hard it was not to chase or conform my life to or obsess over the potential.

I look at my own heart, in spare quiet moments, and am deeply amazed that I am whole. I am more whole, and solid, and heart sturdy, than I ever have been. That whole triumph out of hardship thing is true. So much true. Did my son make me whole? No, he gave me reason to pull my heart together, self-mend, and respect myself more than I ever thought possible. It is hard, trusting again; it is equally hard wondering if I shouldn't. It is mostly near impossible mountains I've surmounted to get to here. To get to I am worthy. To get to if you want me, tell me. To get to sitting right here with full faith that the right relationship will come to me. 

And? And. 

Another friend, a week prior, asked me what I was looking for. My answer came rushing out, easy and clear. That I have learned to disregard the lists of 'little things' - the likes and dislikes, even the religion or politics - because I've had the perfect-on-paper. And? I've learned.

I have learned that what matters at the end of the day is bigger, deeper, easier, and harder to find. So what do I look for? Joy and laughter and respect. Passion and love and comfortable silences. The little things are surmountable, for the most part, if approached with love, laughter, respect (for everyone), and an open mind.

I could wax poetic for hours and pages and oh how I need to. But it's simple, easy. Quiet and loud in your face. It's love. I felt it, once, maybe. I felt it and it destroyed me and I have never said I regretted it. It taught me what love could be and everything it wasn't yet. It taught me my limits and demands and self truths.

And here, right now? I'm more ready in my state of disarray than I have ever been. My heart is built strong and steady and sure and somehow more open.

I have felt the heartache of too many friends lately, seen too many loves and families fall apart. It's hard to watch, hard to feel. It makes me want to reach my arms out and tell my story raw. I can overcome and so can you. I made it here, right here, so strong. So can you.

Because this feeling? Right this second? Utter trust and peace and joy and faith? It doesn't come to those who do not suffer. Heartaches bring the best things in life.

I am going on and on and feeling poetry rise up in me for the first time in so damn long.

Wide eyed and exhausted and ready for the world.

rediscovered hope

This big blank screen is hard. I have lists of profound, meaningful, and important things to write about. I'm filled up to the brim with topics.

But when I can finally, finally, sit down to write...I'm baffled. I don't remember how to do this. And so, yet, I do. I close my eyes in quiet dark silence and let my heart spill out.

I'll sum it once and let go: I've been through the ringer. The last month, 3 months, 6, a year, two years. It's just been hard after hard. Good in between and long stretches of survival. I'm ready to do more than get by or survive. I'm ready to live.

Ready to shore up the walls of my heart and rediscover everything good.

I am pleasantly surprised to find that I am still optimistic at heart. That I can still feel hope and love and passion. That I still, deep down believe the best in people - always.

I remember, one night near 10 years ago, saying I had a feeling big things were about to happen. I smile and laugh to myself every time I remember that, and how every time since, I have been dead on. The air feels different tonight. Life feels full, and there is equal good and hard today.

There is hope.