This is going to be the world's most underwhelming "milestone" post.
This? Is my 300th post.
I've written, re-written, edited, deleted, started over easily 20 times.
I have so many words threatening to burst free of my skull, ready to flow off my tongue, exploding through the tippity tap tapping of my fingertips; aggressively thundering through my bones.
I want to ask someone how they're doing.
I want to tell someone else's ghost that I can see him peeking out through Lou's eyelashes, the curve of his nostrils, through the innocent protrusion of Lou's brow. I see him there and I miss him. Clarification. I miss the man I was married to, that I thought I was madly in love with, the person he was not the person he's become. The person he was fathered three beautiful complex amazing children with me. That person is dead and my heart is still not quite where it should be.
I want to talk about how I'm healing although I'm still grieving. I want to apologize and yet stand firm in that I'm allowed to heal at my own pace.
I want to snap my fingers and have everyone surrounding me just disappear... just, send them somewhere safe and warm and sunny so I can surrender to the silence before they fade back into my reality.
I'd love to be passionate and dance with my hair wild, carefree across the wooden plank flooring of my fancy dining space that we will never use for dining as it's too far from the heart of the home to hold all those we love together.
I want to write about how I've discovered who I am and what I am, and that the subtle act of knowing means I have to let go of the hearts I've collected and care deeply for and even love... so that I can tend to my own heart and the hearts of the children I've brought into the world. How knowing I need this to survive means giving up everything around me.
I want to tell my best friend that I haven't forgotten them and they're not any less important today than they were 2 years ago. I want to tell them that I love them so much for who they are, but 2 years time can change so much about the world we merely exist in. I'd tell them also that opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.
I know now that I am a house cat. That I'm meant to sit in the sunniest sill, meditating on my breath and bringing awareness to my surroundings. This is, of course, not literal. I could never BE a house cat. That is simply ridiculous.
As is most of this post, but then again... this is exactly why I've written, re-written, edited, deleted, started this post over easily 20 times.
This? Is my 300th post.
I've written, re-written, edited, deleted, started over easily 20 times.
I have so many words threatening to burst free of my skull, ready to flow off my tongue, exploding through the tippity tap tapping of my fingertips; aggressively thundering through my bones.
I want to ask someone how they're doing.
I want to tell someone else's ghost that I can see him peeking out through Lou's eyelashes, the curve of his nostrils, through the innocent protrusion of Lou's brow. I see him there and I miss him. Clarification. I miss the man I was married to, that I thought I was madly in love with, the person he was not the person he's become. The person he was fathered three beautiful complex amazing children with me. That person is dead and my heart is still not quite where it should be.
I want to talk about how I'm healing although I'm still grieving. I want to apologize and yet stand firm in that I'm allowed to heal at my own pace.
I want to snap my fingers and have everyone surrounding me just disappear... just, send them somewhere safe and warm and sunny so I can surrender to the silence before they fade back into my reality.
I'd love to be passionate and dance with my hair wild, carefree across the wooden plank flooring of my fancy dining space that we will never use for dining as it's too far from the heart of the home to hold all those we love together.
I want to write about how I've discovered who I am and what I am, and that the subtle act of knowing means I have to let go of the hearts I've collected and care deeply for and even love... so that I can tend to my own heart and the hearts of the children I've brought into the world. How knowing I need this to survive means giving up everything around me.
I want to tell my best friend that I haven't forgotten them and they're not any less important today than they were 2 years ago. I want to tell them that I love them so much for who they are, but 2 years time can change so much about the world we merely exist in. I'd tell them also that opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.
I know now that I am a house cat. That I'm meant to sit in the sunniest sill, meditating on my breath and bringing awareness to my surroundings. This is, of course, not literal. I could never BE a house cat. That is simply ridiculous.
As is most of this post, but then again... this is exactly why I've written, re-written, edited, deleted, started this post over easily 20 times.
