Eros has been good to me. Love surrounds me, touching me before I rise and long after I've slipped into a web of off white. I'm blessed with thoughtfulness, simple gestures leaving me always in a state of crazy happiness, random gifts placed strategically for maximum surprise and time in a world where non of us seem to have enough of. I am loved.
It's not healthy to be in constant bliss. Irony at its finest. To find the calming gratitude in all the emotions is the test. I've been learning how to feel lately. Feel it all. Happy, sad, shitty, amazing, wonderfully chaotic, gorgeous messiness, rock bottom bleeding. Feel it all and if I like it stay there awhile. If not, breathing the grasped emotion out. I am a work in progress still teetering on the edge when alexithymia flairs.
Love absolutely terrifies me.
I don't long for love. I feel love everyday. I love the sound of laughter, the feel of raindrops streaming down my forehead, sunshine on my back, wind between my legs, sand between my toes and looks that last for days. Yes, that kind of love. Giving love has always been enough. The gratitude, peace and knowing the act has the healing power right up there with Prozac lays in comfort with me.
I don't mean to disturb the love blessings. I will continue to give with every ounce filling others glasses leaving character questions irrelevant. I love, love. And as my ghost writer so eloquently put it, I'm ready to be.
There are no fantasies where love and fear coexist. So how can it be so hard to let fear go and let love be. I came across the below, an obvious 2am dictation I closed my eyes to see.
"We're here because of who you are, not who you think i want you to be..
It’s exciting, and scary. It feels like I’m flying, and falling, and
happy, and sad, like my stomach is full of hot sand and my chest is full
of hummingbirds.
I love to fall in love. I love the warmth, and the fire. The way a
new lover is unveiled like a summer’s day, slowly at first—a promise of
heat in the air. Sunlight on the horizon. Dare I say it… Birds singing,
flowers blooming? Only a new lover, no matter how long they have been
falling, can relate.
A summer’s day can unfold into a scorcher though, as well. So before
my new love unfolds too much, there are some things I would like to say.
I’m not here to fix
you. I’m not even here to figure you out. If you need to be fixed, or
figured, or chased, I wish you all the best, but I simply cannot be
involved—I don’t have the time, energy, or inclination. I am not looking
for someone who is fixed, because I am still filling in my own cracks
in many ways. But I need to know that you are capable, and willing, to
fill in your own, without looking to me, or alcohol, or sex, or
football, or outside things to fill in yours. From this place of caring
deeply for ourselves, can we come together and care deeply for each other?
I need alone time. Probably about an hour every day to read, practice
yoga, run, read the news, or just veg out. Some days it may be less.
Some days it may be more. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It
doesn’t mean you’re annoying me. It simply means that in order to take
care of myself, and you, and everyone else in our lives, I need time to
reconnect with myself. I will always give you this same consideration.
If you need more, or less, don’t be afraid to ask for it—or anything
else, for that matter.
I need to marvel. I am someone who thrives in the richness of the
soil, the brightness of the dawn, the colors of the sunset, the taste of
rich black coffee. Even in the acuteness of the pain. I need to throw
out my arms at least once every day and feel my heart sing in joyful
harmony with the universe. And I need you to understand that.
Let’s agree that our relationship is a no judgement zone. You are
free to be completely, 100% you. All of the burping, slightly odd,
hogging the covers, overly generous, wickedly funny, crazy affectionate,
million other wonderful you things that you are. Be them. Don’t ever
hold back, even a bit, even when you think you will offend me or hurt my
feelings, or that I will judge you. Because if we’re going to do this
thing, all of those things will happen. And we cannot be afraid that the
person we care about is to not going to care about us when we are not
perfect—we will be cranky, and eat an entire bag of potato chips (me),
and never clean the bathroom (you). Thoughtless words will be said.
Let’s pause. Breathe. Address the issue without judgement, and talk.
On that note, let’s fight. Because sometimes you will hate me.
Sometimes I will annoy you so much you will want to claw out your own
eardrums just to quiet the sound of my voice. And believe me, I’ll do
the same, because my temper is like a thunder storm. Usually short, but
wicked, and known to cause damage. We will get past it. If we accept
each other. If we don’t stonewall. If we can give space, and love, and
don’t fight dirty.
We will drive each other nuts.
Let’s talk.
Let’s be on the same side. Ours.
I want to feel amazed. By my love for you. By your love for me. By
our love for each other, for life, for sunshine, for adventure, for
patience. I don’t want to ever take advantage of you— if I do, I want
you to gently remind me that sometimes I am selfish. I want to look at
you every day, at least once, and wonder at how this perfectly imperfect
life came to be.
I want you to think I am beautifully flawed and hopelessly whimsical.
Let me make blueberry scones for you, without a recipe, because I
cannot follow them, and serve them on mismatched colored dishes. Then I
will write, and practice yoga, and you will work on your computer. We
will be quiet, but content. Later, we will walk downtown, and have a
drink, and talk. About bicycles and tequila and Brazil, or perhaps
fashion, because we can talk about anything. Or maybe we will sit
quietly, because we can be quiet. We will walk home, touching hands
occasionally, because I like to walk alone. We will make love slowly but
roughly, full of the passion and heat born of two people who cannot get
enough of life, or each other.
Let’s be silly. And sad. And joyful. Let’s explore the world, and
each other, and the backyard. Let’s make cookies, and memories, and
love, and gardens, and a life that is full. Of what, I’m not sure yet.
It’s taken me a long time to get to this place… I’m ready to find out."
The mere thought of giving romantic love that cripples my deepest desires. Fantasy's destroy any possible boredom with their entertaining thoughts keeping the desires seduction frozen. I've gotten so good at happily dancing in this pretty place I almost forgot their lack of body heat.
This year has unfolded me, rattled my cage, rearranged my vision and provoked a calm. The unexpected can do that if we just let it. He woke up my heart, my mind, and my body. But most importantly, he helped me realize that I am all I have, so never compromise myself for anyone or anything.
I've tried another lover clinging to new hope laced faded cotton. Words haunt me. The crowded room deafening stare lingers. The voices in my head run wildly circling walls so high Olympians couldn't breach. I'm practicing. There's an art to letting go. It's talent hides the deciphered letting be.
I crave someone to stop me. Not just anyone. Not just anyone could. But as I lay in anothers bed desperately peeling away vulnerability I felt something missing. I stayed the night. A sign, I just didn't care. I don't run when it's easy. I run to make it all easier. I run to let go. I run to catch my balance.
I don't want someone to run with me, I don't need the crowd, the attention, the distraction. I need the comfort when I strip it all off, left dripping in sweat, standing in the pool of emotions it's ok I can't express. Staying is letting be.
So as I work to undo my heart caged by years of thoughts, I've discovered the gorgeous difference in loving and being in love. Like all the great emotions their uniqueness will crack us. It's the dark's absolute pitch waiting for us to perfect the yin and the yang. I'm not going anywhere. I plan to stink up paradise a bit.
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