Sometimes I wish I were not so soft

sometimes i wish i weren't so soft

Okay, so at this point I’m questioning this concept (action) of being ‘vulnerable’ and transparent about my feelings.

At this point, I’m wondering if people who are close to me are stuck with some kind of idea of me, and not letting me evolve into the person I want to be more of.

Is it holding me back? And how much of it is my fault? Or, maybe I’m doing this to them?

I take responsibility for how people see me, sure. But perhaps I have relied too much on emotionalism. Perhaps there is validity in the way that they see me.

I was crying on and off all morning, but it wasn’t a bad cry. It was a ‘wtf am I doing’ cry, kind of, but not wallowing.

There still is a scared little girl in there…but the thing is that these are no longer pity parties. At least, I really need for them to not be.

Sometimes I feel (act) so crazy because I’m scared. I’m scared and having to let go of a huge pile of stuff (literally, now, as well as figuratively) every day. I am trying to get a hold of how to embrace the fear/let go and believe it or not I am finding success in that frequently too.

Perhaps this is something that I need to be sharing more often, in action.

I feel frustrated when it’s all about distraction; I don’t want to be a distraction to you, either. I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be a distraction.

I’m still wondering where that relationship is, the person who will meet me where I’m at. Of course, everyone I’ve met meets me, in some way. And the bigger relationships matter.

So we’ve met, but will you stay with me? Or I guess the better question is: will you grow with me?

This morning I woke up early and put on some exercise clothes. I skytrained to the seawall and stopped at Terra Breads for coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Then I kept walking and stopped at the place in the photo to meditate.

During mediation I came up with these two points:

1. Being scared is okay, but stuck in that fear (inactive/closed) is not.

2. Last year I discovered possibility in relationship; this year is for knowing possibility beyond relationship.

I don’t want to be alone so much anymore. I don’t want to think of myself so much. I really, really don’t.

So here is what I don’t want; now what do I want?

Perhaps the key is in asking that question of others as well.

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Turning Tearish Thoughts to Gratitude.

sunny tree

(from about a week ago) 

**

This morning I lay in bed almost crying because I wanted you (to).

I didn’t know how to love you. I wanted to so much.

But I was afraid of what might happen if I woke you up.

What would happen if we really woke up?

The dog was wedged in between us like a barrier. You snored.

I slipped out of bed and tied on his little halter, walking through the wet, lush, bright green grass, letting him loose so that he bounded and sniffed around in joy.

I watched people meditating in the pagoda.

And I stood in the circle of stones (why hadn’t I noticed this fire pit before?) and stretched my weary bones as my skin warmed in the sunlight.

Then came immediate (and overdue) release.

On return the coffee was made. We sat and talked, frightened for the little black squirrel that tried so hard to cross the road, both relieved when it didn’t (as were the Asian ladies who were trying to coax it back onto the sidewalk).

This morning you were soft with me. So was she.

Those quiet moments of settling open helped me to pass through this day with ease.

Instead of reacting to what seemed lacking, I decided to just be grateful for good company, the way the clean sheets smelled, soft skin touching.

I’m grateful for friends who aren’t in touch because they (we) all care too much.

I’m grateful for my dream job and the challenges it brings, how I was joyously immersed for much longer than was necessary today.

I’m grateful for strange YouTube videos, beach walks and patio sits—even my sun burn, because it reminds me of that octopus sculpted carefully from beach sand and the way the kids played by the ocean.

Grateful for the way that the cheap Chinese food makes me feel like ass, because remembering this fully might help me to not eat it.

This morning I was so focussed on the way I felt separate, but then realized that we were all together and that was okay.

All it took to feel better was a flip in perspective

How can I be in more complete joy with the people that shape my life right now?

What questions can I ask myself and others?

What is true support, compassion, fun about?

How can I (we) build a new version of joy?

It’s time to change the definition.

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Listing Out the Sore Spots

Today I awoke alone with the same old story running through my head.

I felt sore and sad and stressed out. I realized that I was overdue for a good writing session, but I didn’t want to write my same old story-not here anyways.

I figure, after all, that if I’m sick of telling it then I’d better stop telling it.

But I can’t stop telling it entirely, because it’s my truth. I can change my truth, but not overnight. Not all at once. Even all of that woe-is-me shit that I need so badly to let go of – it’s still a part of me. And it’s a part of me that signals the need for change.

So, finding a new way to tell the story (dear diary) and then maybe, just maybe, smile about it later, once I’ve let it go, is not a bad thing.

Maybe I can actually play with all this soul-stuff. Maybe I can be deep and true and even a bit dramatic and selfish and bitter and then laugh at it all later.

Maybe part of making art is letting go of these weights to laugh (later). Maybe the art of letting go is being able to laugh at yourself.

(The Martha Wainwright-the song/album above has been my main soundtrack of late and this song in particular evokes a sense of this ‘I’m bitter and I have reason to be, but I can laugh about it too’ kind of feeling-a certain playfulness).

Whatever the thing, I was feeling so-well, in it that I figured I had to do something that involved facing it, rather than running away.

So I decided to write a list of all the sore spots, of every single fucking thing that was bothering me right then (now).

I wrote it out so that I could look at it later and see what parts of the story has changed. And maybe some of it will seem absurd, then. Maybe some will be so different. Maybe some things not so much…but things will be different.

I can itemize it to work on each one and cross them off as needed. Tackle them one at a time.

One stretch at a time.

There is no way to write a new narrative without acknowledging these lingering aches and pains…even the ones that are just in our head.

Some of the things:

1. I needed to go camping this weekend but then didn’t/couldn’t.

2. I’m still in love with you but you aren’t with me.

3. You are with me all the time but I’m afraid that you won’t open up.

4. My phone bill is killing me and I’ve borrowed all the money that I can.

5. There is a hole in the wall of my bathroom door that I’m going to have to tell the landlord about when I leave.

6. I’m scared of selling my bike.

7. My bed hurts to sleep in.

The thing I’m sick of saying/hearing is that I need to just go.

But in this, I realized how easy it is to flip my perspective. I thought, for the first time ever: what if something or someone else out there needs me? What if it’s not about me going, but about me entering another place where I’m valued in a whole different way, for all new adventures?

Maybe this will happen in ways that I can’t even imagine right now.

And then after all of this was out of my system (and some coffee was in my system) I chose to see myself in a different light. I put on some nice clothes, I put my hair up. I placed some pretty earrings on my ears and some make up on my face.

I went over to the window.

I took a series of selfies in my living room, feeling a bit silly but spinning around and around to experiment with angles and lighting. It was amazing how different each shot looked, how the light came through my camera and hit my face and showed this space uniquely with each shift, with each click of the button.

As I spun around I started smiling in spite of myself.

I realized that maybe it is not so silly to feel like I matter, that documenting this moment in this space in this light is important to me and there is nothing wrong with showing it-with showing myself-in a new light.

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