Month: June 2023

I am filled with it.

Yeah.

I’m terrified.

But, I keep striving –

I keep living, anyway.

The greatest loss is when people turn away from love. We are designed to give and receive it.

There is no flexibility between
What a man wants and doesn’t.

Do you know how hard it is to find someone who can relate to you?

Who can understand, empathize with, and absolve the darkness that clings tenaciously, discoloring every bright moment you would claim that would be lost without their belief in you?

And how precious it is to spend what few moments we have in their presence – knowing that just by their very existence on this material plane with us that everything is going to be ok despite the hardships?

Where I feel “comfortable” may resonate with my identity easier, so I need to be more gentle with myself when I step out of my “normal” zones.

Having one ‘s self empowerent restored can make one happy in the world.

I do not have much closet space for clothing.

Since skirts may be hung from hangers and a rack may be hung over a door, I have decided to hang my skirts behind – yet “on” the door.

It feels weird to break the patterns of conformity.

I guess it’s like coloring outside of the lines.

I’m enjoying stepping beyond prior limits.

It’s a simple thing, really.

I just never had the time to wear them.

They were completely impractical to the lifestyle I was living.

Although for some reason, I began collecting them while on the mountain.

It wasn’t safe to wear one when there were snakes and the potential need to run from a cougar.

Then, I began wearing black all of the time – with work being a professional scrub outfit.

But once spring’s heat arrived, I was forced to create a new habit.

Now, I am wearing skirts frequently.

And their fabrics swishing around my legs feels divine.

As I experience healing trends in my psychology, I realize how much I have had to carry as I get to set down those burdens.

It elates me to be able to see this constellation from our driveway.

Before I colored my hair, I went at it to lighten the weight of it again with major relayering.

Longer hair is for those women with an agenda to look a way, specifically.

I just need less burden to swim through these emotional waters.

At last my biceps are again revealing their muscles to me.

My heart is heavy, filled with depression from losses of missed chances.

Not from my own inaction, but from the inaction of others.

The languished wasting.

My life is progressing on a better track now.

It is overwhelming to think of how long I have struggled to find a good current again.

I could just let it carry me where it will down an easy stream.

But, how do I offload this weight to keep from drowning?

“I don’t know how to be happy around you.

I am dependent, you see, on how happy you are feeling.

If you are down, it turns my smile into a frown.

I cannot help this because I feel empathy so strongly.

I need a partner who understands this about me and who will help us to relate dynamically.”

She walked into a favorite Mexican restaurant in Morro Bay, California, feeling emotionally drawn tight and frazzled.

The kids were with her in their tender teens, and their father had agreed to eat with them all for the first time in a while.

Her instinct kept pinging for a sense of any connection between herself and her ex, but there was only static, and her heart ached with every attempt as she would smile.

It was a fragile situation for her kids, and she was so exhausted from loss – but worked to keep up the stalwart veneer of capability forced upon her as the now primary single parent.

While her once nuclear family ordered their food, she sat down in a booth to look out of the windows facing the direction of the ocean which was hidden behind buildings.

Then she saw the man hunched over his plate of food, facing and trying to not look at her. She assessed him visibly before closing her eyes in strained pain over recent hardships.

He was a well-built, large-statured man of Mexican-American descent and had socks around his large sandled feet with shorts and shirt to compliment. She could tell that he wasn’t a local resident, and he exuded an amazing energy with intelligent animalism.

He looked like her Monster from what little she’d seen of an outdated photograph, but even better than she’d imagined. His power and strength were evident. The careful grace of his every move while he ate was glorious combined with his self composure.

She opened then closed her eyes again, emotions swirling at the desire to break free – to fly to her Monster wherever he was. She knew the situation with her ex had become toxic to her, but she was doing this dinner to help ensure his rebonding with their children.

When she opened her eyes again to look at the man, he had slipped away quietly – no trace left of him. It was exactly as her Monster would have done.

Had it been him?! She should have been brave and asked him if they had met before – but her fried brain had not realized the possibility until he vanished.

When the dinner was over, she rushed to her computer to contact him. “Monster, was it you? Did you come to see me?” She typed erratically, distressed at having possibly missed this unexpected opportunity to meet him in reality.

But, no reply was given. He had never spoken to her again once he had withdrawn to envelop his public status in silence.

Twelve years later, she still thinks of him. After declaring her leaving a private blog two years ago that he had helped her create, she returned again yesterday to check on him and found his site no longer loaded.

She hates not knowing what has happened to him. Is he ok? Has he at last found happiness? Or has he given up completely on everything?

She had hoped her leaving would encourage him to reemerge into the light like she was doing. It keeps distressing her now that all traces of him are missing.