April showers

April 22, 2011

Tofu in my stomach and betrayal on the brain. Told my girlfriend the story of Christ’s sacrifice for us last night over Indian food. And in the moment of describing the pain he felt in the garden of Gesthemane I almost wept into my sweet potato masala. Thinking about the humanity of someone who challenged the system and was then abandoned by everyone in the moment of his greatest need – even god- was overwhelming. It’s a story we all understand. Unfortunately right? I’m no savior but I have been betrayed and abandoned. I’m no judas but I have betrayed and abandoned.

I hate my coworker. I had hope that we would together build something amazing here. Instead we just tore each other down. Not intentionally. I believe completely the damage I received was unintentional and unintended. And I stood tonight before my community with shaky voice and realized I have lost my way. I can’t lead if I am lost. The question I have for myself is am I lost in that way that happens when we are deep in the finding? Or am I lost in that way that is about denying where I need to go?

Utah Philips knew alot.

August 22, 2010

The past really didn’t go anywhere. It’s in boulder right now. It was on the phone with me on Friday. It surprises me when I am talking to my lover. I am who I was as much as ever.

86,400.

November 4, 2009

openthehatchSome days feel longer than others. Yesterday felt like a weight that crushed all my feelings out. I used the f* word a lot. I expressed my most selfish, unenlightened feelings. I tried to reach for the most gallant in me and couldn’t reconcile it with the aching wound.

Things I want: a time machine; fewer emotional conversations; a faster process

Things I don’t want to want that I want: to be okay with her hurting or feel bad too

Things I need: to feel safe with you; to re-center; to celebrate all that we are

Things I feel: afraid; angry; sad; hopefully; safe; caring; tired

Things I remember: that you love me; that I love you; that in the end this is just a moment, among the others.

What is it about Mondays?

November 2, 2009

you don't want a girl like meI keep feeling better, only to wake up on Monday and feel burdened again. I am really trying to trust that I am not making the same mistake. Again. We went to a party on Saturday. I had spent a couple of weeks really focused on it as a date night. Us time- no kids – connection. We had different ideas about what that meant and I just disconnected. I went to the party and spent my time doing my own thing — together and also separate. More like when we met. I played the Chicago soundtrack this weekend and he asked me if it was a warning. He was kidding. And yet… maybe it is. I won’t be physically violent. I have been emotionally and spiritually damaging in the past. Ripping myself back and into myself, little tendrils hanging between me and the other that I slowly either reject or reabsorb. 

I have been reaching out to people in ways I haven’t in awhile. I don’t know what that means. Playing on OKC. Chatting with folks more.I have this part of myself that I am holding in reserve. Waiting to give it back to you or keep it until someone shows me they appreciate and value it.

Hearts and Guts.

October 21, 2009

anatomyI don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. Right now my guts are out there though. An acquaintance of mine has an open wound in his side — very thin flesh covers and protects his most vulnerable internal organs. He wears layers of protection and walks with awareness that any random, accidental movement could bring him down and possibly end his life. I guess emotional damage isn’t nearly as dramatic. My life isn’t going to end because I am really, really sad about some things. I do feel like I have this layer of cellophane between me and everything else. It’s part roller coaster, part marathon. These ups and down happen and I want to just curl into a ball. And I have a life that requires I pace myself and I keep on going. Which is most likely a good thing– I think being able to indulge ourselves in our bouts of self-pity is rarely a good thing.

What your risk reveals what you  value.

You spent me without counting the cost. 

I want things, too. I just keep choosing to be here and now. 

I worry that you are so used to being the star and the focus that you think you somehow are entitled. That I don’t have a choice. That you can treat me with disregard and say it’s the nature of our relationship. We are in an open relationship, which means we get the freedom to explore opportunities and delights. It doesn’t mean you get the freedom to ignore me or devalue who I am to you when it’s convenient.

HOA fails again.

October 21, 2009

snow leopardI woke up feeling incredibly drained. I blame the weather. It’s snowing — in October?!? I believe we passed legislation against that — or maybe we just voted in the home owner’s association (HOA) that snow would start in mid November. It seems like no one keeps their word anymore. I will have to file a complaint.

Some things are better left unsaid. Is that hiding or discretion or simple kindness? What you risk reveals what you value. We all have a beast in us that values only our survival; only our happiness; only our needs. I have a friend who is a dedicated pacifist. He won’t eat or use products produced through violence. I think he is changing the world for the better. I know that my life requires a certain amount of denial. Although I do try to imagine the death and destruction in my meals and accept it as part of my choices.

This whole crazy-crazy we’ve been going through, my enchanter and I, is a different kind of death and destruction. It is the violence of our behavior on the beings we have the strongest emotional response to. It’s not a new story — it’s the grist behind the afternoon soaps and the political sex scandals. We have, in all of us, a beast that will take what it wants when we let it.

I voted against it in the last HOA meeting we had. I guess it’s like the snow, another primal force with a mind of it’s own that even Robert’s Rules cannot contain.

Hello mother.

October 19, 2009

blueshoe with heart stalkinsI was in Florida for work last week. Yesterday, I finally made it to the beach. All the Floridians were convinced it wasn’t beach weather, but I rolled my pants up, took my shoes off, and waded in as far as I could go. The first shock of water was like a bath gone cold. As my body adjusted to the temperature, it felt perfect. Salty water soaked through the bandage on my foot and stung the place on my ankle where I’d been bitten the other night and scratched a little too enthusiastically. I sank my toes into the sand and let the water whirl around my legs. The water was a little angry, wind whipping, white caps crashing far into the horizon. Not a swimming friendly ocean. It took most of my willpower not to disrobe completely and immerse myself despite that. Last summer we visited the beach and I closed my eyes and floated in the arms of the ocean for as long as I could hear the sounds of people on the beach. This turned out to be mildly foolish, as I floated fairly far out. Luckily I am a strong swimmer and no harm was done. I knew looking at the ocean yesterday that I couldn’t float again. But I could sit. I have some small regret that I did not. Instead, I waded for as long as possible and then washed my hands in ritual fashion, reminding myself of my inner strength and how it connects to the strength beyond me. And for a time, I was at peace.

2 + 2

October 16, 2009

girlI made this place to contain the lessons of the past. I wish the heart had grades, like school, and I could just review my 5th grade primer, retake the test, and be done. It turns out life is a little more inter-connected. All the ventricles work together to keep things going… blood and breathe are balanced and somehow my past keeps running into my present.

I don’t know why I feel so … kicked? drained? broken? hopeful? I can’t distinguish between my emotions. I just know this is a test for me. Will I repeat the lessons of the past, like an inmate, certain that 2 + 2 must be 47, if I just add it one more time.

I know that 2 +2 is 4.

I know what I need to heal.

I am asking for things I don’t want to ask for. Things I don’t want to need. I am fighting myself, my insecurities, my social conditioning, my anger, my grief, my pettiness … I am accepting myself, my insecurities, my social conditioning, my anger, my grief, my pettiness.

What is skin, really? It’s nothing. It’s a moment. How much is a moment worth? What you risk reveals what you value. I finally understand that saying.

There are questions I didn’t ask. I wasn’t ready. I want you to feel the stabbing of breathes, shallow, deep, each one digging through me sharply, until all I could do was curl into a ball, like a polly-wolly bug, showing only the strongest part of me to the world. Except I don’t really want you to feel it. I just don’t want to feel it, ever again. I would pay a lot for that. Even changing my patterns. Even learning that 2 +2 = 4.

Even taking the leap of faith.

Sometimes.

October 8, 2009

pastandpresentshipsSometimes I feel like I woke up in the middle of open heart surgery. Not real surgery with anesthesia and trained professionals. TV surgery that was somehow necessary in the middle of a camping trip. My heart exposed and vulnerable while it gets poked and prodded and I silently comply.

Sometimes I feel like I need too much.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell I am doing.

Sometimes I wish I could start over. Where is the redo button? Yeah, yeah, I know– what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. How can I be sure it didn’t kill me? I think sometimes it did. And through the power of lightning and self-delusion I am still walking but it’s all a patchwork of my rotting remains. All I need is the green skin and the side attachments at my temples.

Sometimes I get scared that the things that hurt 14 years ago will never stop hurting.

Sometimes I wish I were a much better actress. Or just a liar. This truth stuff can really suck.

Sometimes I feel like I am the middle of open heart surgery. Bleeding and breaking and still pumping away while we all try to figure out how to keep it beating and pour asbestos over it, sure somehow that’s good for me.

Sometimes I wish I knew how to take the road more traveled.

Sometimes even chocolate won’t help.

Sometime I miss you. Jerk and bastard though you were to me. I wish I could be dismissive of the whole picture and just remember the ick. Instead I am more likely to remember the nights we’d wake up and giggle like kids or the games we played or the adventures we had. I hate you a little for that, even though it’s kind of my fault.

Sometimes I eat fudge for breakfast.

Sometimes I can’t handle what I think I want.

Sometimes I feel like I am in the middle of open heart surgery. With all my friends doing what they can to help me stop the bleeding.

Sometimes healing really hurts.

Sometimes I doubt myself in every way.

Sometimes.