I realized today that what I am the most scared of is that I could be completely powerless over the components in my life that I hold most dear. I know that, for me, having the ability to influence people and events is what gets me through each day with my head held high and keeps my positive, confident attitude reigning supreme, As I’ve grown older and have taken on more and more and held myself to a higher and higher standard, I have grown to realize that there are people out there who are just as opinionated and stubborn as I am and that they, too, have a substantial amount of control over the outcome of situations. Take my love life, I currently live in fear that Z has made his mind up and that there will genuinely be nothing I can do to help him change his mind and come to his senses, allow us to go back to something resembling “happy” when he comes home. I am also terrified that future job prospects will not go as planned because my charms will fail me when my resume doesn’t hold up. I am also terrified that my plans to travel late this spring are simply the summation of many years worth of escape attempts. This urge to flee has fought its way to the surface of my psyche for as long as I can remember. I am only now, finally, choosing to act upon it.
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…
she catches snowflakes on her boots
as she steps through the trenches
flakes of shimmer gliding across the frozen ground
a gloved hand tucks a lock of blonde behind one ear
exposing skin to the harsh wind
but allowing her full view of the landscape
fingers clench and writhe in their soft homes
eyes squint and blink against the blinding light
lips grow dry and cracked with the frozen wind
and still she walks, one step at a time
trusting the ground beneath the snow
to hold her weight and cushion a fall
taking in the world around her
fresh, new, offering a clean slate
for her to make into her own
This year is the first year I have a Christmas tree of my own- last year, we made a few sorry attempts to venture out into the wilderness to help ‘thin the tree growth’ on Z’s old family property, but this year, seeing as how I’m living solo, I went with a pre-lit, classically fake tree.
I’m quite happy to have it and I have it lit whenever I am home (Christmas is the only time of year that I don’t act like a crazy hermit and have all of my lights off unless I or the birdies absolutely need them). It just makes me happy. Along with my countless decorative trinkets, misc festive lights, and holiday glassware, my tree contributes to the growing opinion that Christmas at my house gives the very close impression that an elf may have thrown up everywhere. But that’s okay. I love it.
It’s nearly impossible for me to be in a bad mood around the holidays. However, the joys of feeling everything so intensely, as is my personality, has also left me with the woes of feeling any Christmas-cramping-emotions in a nearly-debilitating way. As a result, I find myself going out of my way to feel happy, blindly side-stepping conflict and anything that could send my ELF-esque Christmas innocence reeling down a dark and windy road into Grinch-hood. I came close last year, after driving back to my house on Christmas night so I could work the next morning. I spent the night alone and was sad that I had left my family and friends partying up a merry storm. This year, I have a few other things to consider and worry about but I’m giving them a wide berth. As a way of avoiding such negativity, I am considering the following:
My relationship may be completely up in the air which could be debilitating around the holidays, but I have faith in love, and even if things don’t work out, I have a whole slew of prospects that began lining themselves up the minute Z decided to stop crashing my party. These prospects merely make me feel significant and although I will do nothing about them, the idea that some other person could care for me is a little ‘pick me up’ for the dark days that I’ve waded through.
I’m beginning to communicate better with my alcoholic (??) grandmother. It breaks my heart that she does not care for herself the way she ought to, but if I plan my calls around ‘sober times,’ I get to speak with her the way I used to.
Bess is getting better and we are even cantering now! She and Dickey are good company, and they are one of the reasons I get out of bed even on days I don’t feel like it.
My birds are the best and I love them very much. Their sharp, melodic voices harmonize (well, sort of) with any Christmas album.
My family is great, and although some of our health may not be at its best, at least we have each other, and can spend so much time together over the holidays :)
Also, I’m going to Europe this Spring, so that’s cool.
Allen Stone “Sleep” Live @ the Bing Lounge in Portland, Oregon
I am absolutely stuck between a rock and a hard place. Deciding upon the correct balance, too much contact or too little could destroy things, is an all-consuming task. I find myself drift away when I am not occupied, dreading and fixating on my next move and whether I need to be the first one to initiate, whether I should even continue expressing and outpouring energy into something with someone who may or may not even care that I am alive. Being ignored and jilted on a consistent basis could send me spiraling.
These things are true, however, I have vowed that I will do what I do because I want to, endless possible repercussions for my actions will not be factored in. My heart breaks a little more each day but I spend a few minutes before I get out of bed in the morning, putting bandages on the critical areas. I will continue to act in a way that reflects me in the purest possible way and I will continue to care and cry and laugh and hope each day that soon things will return to their previous, wonderfully free place.
If not, at this point I know I will survive, unhappy, but alive. I have enough of my own life, something that I had to reacquire over the past year, that losing one aspect of my orbit will not destroy the rest of the solar system. I just absolutely continue to wish that someone, somewhere, will shake some sense into this whole situation and help me be at peace, so I don’t have to work so damn hard at it.
For the people in my life who help me stay strong. Whether they’ve allowed me a shoulder to cry on; helped me move in a time of need; poured me another one when I need to keep talking; offered me strength and advice during times of transition; patiently listened to my delusioned/emotional ranting and waited until I finished before smacking me around a bit; allowed me the chance to make mistakes and not judged me for them; helped fuel my fire by tagging along on random adventures; ridden through moonlit fields with me in 30* weather; read through my late night texts that make little to no sense; reciprocated my hopeless romanticism even when the tunnel appears to be closing. I am thankful for the people in my life who have been a part of my life and am thankful for what they’ve allowed me to witness, build, create, and listen to.
It’s time to get really, really sassy. No more waiting games. No more waiting around. It’s extremely hard to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes, and although I’ll acknowledge that the internet can be wildly unpredictable, it’s really not that difficult to let people know that you’re thinking about them or to simply say, “oh hey, it’s been a while, what’s up?”
But at this point, maybe I’ll just enjoy my beer, my fabulously upgraded culinary skills, and start window shopping.
I hate it. Every ounce of my being cries out against being sad and this only adds to the depth of my depression. I become more depressed thinking about the fact that I’m feeling depressed. The fact that I have so little control over certain aspects of my life, the ones that I feel truly matter, and an unspeakable amount of control over the aspects that I don’t want to touch with a ten foot pole (see: planning my future, etc), leaves me spiraling.
I talk myself in and out of sadness. Being a very intense, feeling, person, I’ve discovered that I am so incredibly talented at either completely numbing myself to intense emotions to the point that I’ve forgotten that I am even capable of feeling, or extremely good at going so overboard in expressing myself that all my burners are running at FULL STEAM. It’s everything in the middle that I struggle with. I’m never able to find the in between, that place in which I am able to rationally, logically, think about my situation while allowing my feelings to creep in and share their thoughts on the subject. Instead, I think long and hard, attempting to process and dissect my life and the people I’ve chosen to keep in it, without feeling anything at all. Once I’ve decided that I’ve worked something out, or my brain, exhausted from repressing my inner romantic-child-lover-wino—adhd-intensity, gives up, I allow myself to feel things about whatever I’ve been processing. And then: I explode.
And by explode, I mean, generally, I begin to cry. Or to scream. Or to sing LOUDLY to whatever song comes on the radio. Or to go for long, painfully productive runs. Or to clean, rearrange, and organize. Or to ride every horse in the barn.
At which point, I go back to numb.