In the last week my left eyelid has begun twitching. This has happened before and I thought it was just lack of sleep. But I’ve been sleeping ok. So it’s probably stress.
So what am I stressed about?
I’m not in a relationship. A few friends and maybe’s but nothing solid.
My work is no different than it’s been for 6 months.
So what’s changed?
I think, uncertainty. I’m good with chaos. I can handle it and even excel in it but extend that out for months and add in some emotional shocks and I think we have the recipe for copious stress.
My usual outlets aren’t cutting it. So the stress is starting to take a physical toll in the form of eyes twitches and fatigue.
There’s little to be done beyond what I’m doing. I won’t take medication except in dire need, so that’s out. I guess more meditation is in order. More something.
I don’t know what is possible though. I mean, I want what I always do. But how realistic is that? I mean no one is going to pop out of the ether and say hey, wanna hang out and maybe more?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m alone because I need to process. Or maybe I just don’t know.
But this eye twitch is really getting on my nerves
Looking back, I wonder
I wonder why I allowed situations where I was in so much pain
I wonder at feeling those highs when the lows lasted for so much longer
I wonder why do I want someone to eat with me when I so much enjoy sitting alone at the restaurant, eating at my slow pace, reading my book
Experiences that aren’t made better
I only dance in public when I’m not with someone I know
I’m only free from all expectations on my own
But still, I miss having someone.
To love. To kiss. To hold.
I miss sleeping next to someone.
Not all the time, but sometimes.
I miss that moment when you look at each other and everything is said and nothing is spoken
If it were a year ago, I would be without reservation. I would be full ahead, all in, how to get from here to there hardcore planning and presentation. It is the unfortunate case that the me of a year ago is gone. He had a bit more faith, a bit more naivete(if that term can be applied to someone as old hat as I).
Truthfully, I miss him. He would have stormed the gates of heaven for the hint of what now may be.
That’s not to say that I’m not overwhelmingly intrigued and even hopeful. Just that now, I’m cautious. People have burned me on hoping before. And while I don’t think that will happen here, it may not work out. That would be disappointing but little would change, I think.
I’m cautiously optimistic. I think we have a good shot. But slowly and coming into each other’s lives, not the headlong rush that has been so destructive in the past. In a way, I’m just talking myself into slow. Because the gods know, I’m much more comfortable with jumping.
This as a possibility I would never have guessed. Amazing. The world is still a beautiful surprise.
Some say I am brave to love
To gamble heart and sanity
On chance and flame
Mayhap, my sight is flawed
I know myself for broken
And perhaps in breaking further
My pieces will align and I will be whole
perhaps the flame will forge me
And I will rise anew
Is it bravery to love?
Rather, I think, it necessity.
I find myself thinking about you.
And, of an instant, the flash as you are in my arms and I’m kissing you
Lips pressing and holding the words left unsaid
Tongue slipping against tongue
like a dam breaking
the flood of might have been collapsing down to this moment
where our choice is each other
and a fierce joy for each future minute
we will face unafraid
Secure in the knowledge
that we will face it together.
I recently told a friend that I anticipated that this September would be a bad one. Last year I was distracted by relationships, failed or otherwise. This year I, now, have no such distance. She said there was still time, that some relationship might start up. She was being kind, maybe a bit fearful of my state in the weeks that lead up to that dreadful anniversary. I find myself less than optimistic concerning the same thing. The possibility of anything seems so distant. And my efforts seem to not make a bit of difference. Like fighting a tiller in a storm, even though the seas seem calm. I just keep moving forward, swept along the current. Unable to find home or shore.
I’ve heard it said that the benchmark for love is whether or not you would die for someone.
It’s not. Death is Easy. We all do it. It’s going to happen.
No, the benchmark for love is whether or not you will live for someone.
Will you wake each day with the intention that today you will be as good to them as when you were courting. As when you were dating. As when you first saw them blush with their body. As when you first touched and your heart sped up a little.
Love is a emotion, yes. But in a relationship, it’s also a choice. The choice to love completely. To not allow all of the noise and fury of this chaotic, beautiful, mad world we live in, to not allow it to take over and intrude where it is not welcome.
But, people call me crazy for opening my heart so wide. And I won’t pretend that I have not been hurt. But, if I allow that pain to make my choices for me then I am not living. I am hiding.
I choose to not hide. To not be ruled by pain. By fear. I may not always know the way. But I know that love is my guide
Love blossoms for the most absurd reasons. A word, a look, a deed or a need.
But to grow it always takes the same things. Consistency, not boredom, not in a rut but doing the things you say you’re going to do.
Respect, not obedience or abasence but seeing in them your equal, your partner.
Honesty, voicing your concerns and your joys.
Communication, constant communication, not always talking but always trying to get to understanding.
Learning, each piece of them and yourself with them.
Growing together until entwined you are more together than singly.
Those are the ones that I know, that work.
Love is infinity, but a relationship is the bloom that grows from the spark. It must be treated as a growing living thing.
Love makes us fool’s, may I never be so wise that I fail to take a chance on love.
Love makes us blind, may I never see so clearly that perception keeps me from my loves arms.
Love makes us reckless, may I never be so cautious that I fail to risk little to win all.
Love is worth pain, worth bad choices, worth the how can I have been so stupid moments.
It is worth the risk. It is worth the effort.
Relationships are not easy. People are involved so how could they be? But where there is love, there is hope. Where there is hope, there is a chance.
There is something either cleansing or fucking scary about coming out of a depression so deep that moving itself is a act of will. Afterwards, I feel almost normal which I never really feel for any length of time. And that’s scary. Because I remember this feeling. It’s the same as what I felt when my emotions were locked down. The pure sense of seeing out from a cell constructed of my mind. Safe but trapped.
The other side is I feel scoured clean. Like all pain has been cleared away. Though it hasn’t and the loss of that numbness makes way for the pain of being alone. There is someone, of course, but we haven’t spent much time together due to scheduling lately. And I need that contact to maintain equilibrium.
I can maintain when I am on my own, but if I get used to having someone to share spinning plate duty with, then they are unavailable, the spin starts to falter.
And, for me, nothing calms me, keeps me centered like touch. Just a hand on my back is enough. Though more is always welcome.
And, for reasons I won’t go into, for privacy reasons, we touch very little. Also a problem for me.
It doesn’t feed my depression, but it doesn’t help it.
So I guess this is less about depression and more about my needs not being completely met. Not that I didn’t know that they wouldn’t be, but that I, foolishly perhaps, thought that I was better equipped to weather the storm.