not a cry for help... just a cry

photo by anna groth-shive

if you must know, it feels sort of like I'm dying. of course, how am I to know what dying feels like? I am still alive. and quite frankly, I have a lot of nerve even speaking of such things when my heart is still beating, and my lungs are still supplying the oxygen it needs to do so.

I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing this for sanity. I am full of question marks that poke at my ribs and tickle my toes. the writer in me thinks that perhaps, perhaps, writing about it will ease my tired mind. my weary body. my body wants a vacation from working. a bruise on my shin refuses to heal, a week later it is tender like the first blow. I ran into a coffee table made by a father and his sons. a giant tree flattened for magazines and beer bottles. rough edges left for smooth shins. my shin. still bruised.

I am trying to heal.

what I am asking of myself is courage, and I am finding stock piles of it under stacks of old books I am going through to divide between me and the love that once was. I am finding hope in between summer dresses I am pulling off hangers and putting into bags. I am finding patience in cluttered drawers full of too many little things to do anything with but throw away. I am finding love in the mirror when I finally give into brushing my dirty mouth and washing my long face. I want help. I want a 24 hour hot line. but I will not dial the phone.

I am doing this alone. not because I have to, but because it is the only honest thing.

that is not to say there are not countless blessings being bestowed upon my head. people making phone calls and leaving messages. feeding me when I have forgotten to do so myself. offering up a comfy couch. listening. making me laugh. sending me emails about people worshiping images of christ found in cheetos. cheesus.

I am ok, even though I am not. I am ok. I am looking forward to being better...

I am tired. I am worn out. I am reminded every 3.278 seconds why some people avoid love all together. it is painful, not always, but often. it ends. one way or another. but I am not going to avoid it. ever. I embrace this part of the exchange. the dividing of lives shared. I do not feel sorry for myself. it was all worth it. it is always worth it. always.

don't say ouch, it feels good

life's not supposed to be easy. I believe that. but I also believe that life is supposed to feel good despite the difficulty. I am currently in the practice of extracting joy and pleasure out of a painful situation.

people change as the trees do. we live. we love. we move on.

when I was younger and going through my first heartbreak, I adopted my own little mantra: don't say ouch, it feels good. when I was 11 and couldn't sleep from the pain of growing bones, I wanted the pain to stop. but I'm glad it didn't, because I would still have to use a chair to put the dishes away. the pain is part of letting us reach new heights. I am choosing to honor the hard parts while seeking the blissful ones in the process.

processing the process

"Trust your process." ~Anne Wilson Schaef

I remember when I wasn't this sure about "things" - you know, career paths, boyfriends, the circumference of my pant legs - things like that. I am here now, still unsure, but sure that's it's perfectly ok to be so.

I am my process.

lately I've been taking great comfort in that. loving who I am becoming who I will be. loving who I was in all my unknowing. loving who I am now in all my unknowing. embracing the great pulsating process that is me and everything that I see (and don't see).

it's been a process getting to this point of honoring the process.

I think it started with sara, who first got me to stop creating with an end result in mind. to let go of what I wanted to get out of it. to express simply because I can, and not because it will make me rich or famous or loved, but because it makes me happy. it was a very complicated process to arrive at that simple fact, but once I got over my idea of what something should be and instead just started making and doing, I felt something profound - freedom. freedom from myself standing in my own way. no longer afraid of if it "isn't good" or if it never "goes anywhere", I can write and draw and sing and dance just because it feels good to do so.

now this is not to say that I don't still get scared, or confused, or uninspired, or bored or frustrated to the point of wanting to just get married and have 10 babies at once to fill up my three story house of longing. the difference is that now I am choosing to try and honor all the rooms of my soul. the small cramped closets full of junk, the big white rooms with bare walls, the pretty little nooks painted in soft yellows and lit with afternoon light, the living rooms filled with stiff couches draped in squeaky vinyl. to be willing to sit in the spaces that are uncomfortable or terrifying, knowing that just past the hall is a room with a canopy bed covered in big fluffy pillows and filled with all my favorite people laughing and listening to music and dancing and eating cake.

it's all part of the process.

who am I to fight myself? I am not the enemy? I am a soldier in the process of learning to battle every fearful thought that barricades me from living my truth. and hot damn! if that doesn't get tiring. and good lord! if sometimes I don't feel like raising a white flag. but I will let the heart on my sleeve bleed dry before I give up on the endless process of me becoming me. because to me, the alternative of pleated khaki pants walking through an endless mall is not an option. not doing what is scary is the scariest idea of all.

baby steps with big feet

this is why I haven't written in a while. sxsw. mecca for my young heart. my band yearbook pictures will be playing there this year. ferkin a! this is something I have imagined happening before. small potatoes for some, but a mountain of golden mashed potaters for this gal. yum yum. it's no small feat to make cd's and buttons and find transportation (and the money to make the transportation possible). oh, and practicing, that's in there too. good news is an incredibly nice fella by the name of parry gripp is selling us his old nerf herder van for $1. for the price of a candy bar, we are getting a bonafide touring van that runs! the heavens doth shine down upon us.

let me say that this is one of those moments where you (I) need to realize that something you've wanted, imagined, dreamed of, etc. is actually taking place. a milestone if you will. the thing about milestones is we need to honor them and not rush by when we pass one. take a moment, perhaps stretch a little, look up at the sky, look back at the worn path, and then with all those things in mind, start walking again. one foot in front of the other. baby steps with big feet as my dear friend jamie would say. we are getting somewhere. even when it feels like we've been moving in tiny circles, we are moving forward. our only task is to move and look out for the milestones that may not come every mile, but are there when they see fit to show us that we're not standing still. have faith in physics and yourself and you will get there.