Tag Archives: time

Morning

27 May

Mornings you wake up and have absolutely nothing to do are one of the greatest joys in my life. I lost the pleasure of them for a while. I still struggle to allow myself the few moments of nothingness. It is easiest when I happen to awaken before my alarm, when I feel I have stolen those moments somehow from time’s keeper.

When I was young it was easy, as most things are when you are young (even if you don’t write realize it at the time). I loved lying in bed until noon and beyond on the weekends, just being happy I didn’t have to catch a bus and make it through six hours of classes. College was more difficult with more pressure and to do lists clogging my relax function, but still manageable most Saturday mornings (or Wednesdays Mondays, sometimes despite a 9am class).

It was sometime after graduation I let adulthood taint something, let it gorilla glue my switch to “on.” I felt (feel) I always had to be accomplishing something, checking something off a list, bettering myself. All those things are true, I do always have a running “to do” list, something that needs attention, and it never feels like there is enough time to get to it all. However, recently I have begun allowing myself some time for myself. Not jumping out of bed right when the sun hits my eyes everyday doesn’t mean I am wasting time, it doesn’t mean I am missing an opportunity, and it doesn’t mean I am failing to meet my full potential (at least that is what I keep telling myself).

Bed is a treasured place. It is where I am most myself with no pressure to be anywhere or be anything else than what I am. I can read in peace and cuddle with my lover. It is where I am most often happy to throw all my cares out the window and just be. So why not steal a little extra time in the morning when the day is new and full of potential, when everything from the day or week before seems a little more distant. Why not?

The Wisdom of Youth

17 Mar

Every time he leaves it is a hard battle that I fight and for a few days I really hate the person I become. Moody, insensitive, noncomunicative…it’s like I am PMSing in overdrive.

I was at work a couple days after the last time he flew off into the night sky and trying to refocus my life by pouring the meager amount of energy I had into my kids. I was talking with two of the girls that tend to battle a lot with depression and one of them was telling me how she had been having a really good week because her friend was in town. This friend was slightly more than just a friend as they had been seeing each other before he had had to move away. Regardless of any residual feelings or lingering hopes, this boy had come into her life and reminded her what it was like to be happy at a time she was finding it hard to get out of bed each day. He was going to be leaving soon, however, and the realization had dawned on her that she liked being happy, she liked feeling excited about the day, and she liked not constantly being at war with herself. Her concern which we were discussing was that she wasn’t being happy for herself, her happiness was centered around the existence of another person, so the questioned that remained was,  “how do I find my happiness for myself?”

I tell this anecdote because it caused a revelation in myself as often conversations do with my teens. I learned this lesson once…and then again…and I’m sure more times after that. In my teenage years I was immobilized by my fears and sadness, but my 20’s brought the age of self-sufficiency in which I was confident and able to find happiness within myself and for myself. Somewhere along the way, however, perhaps I became to comfortable with the idea that I would always be able to separate myself from becoming co-dependent or stuck in a hole in which the only sunshine was another person.

I am by no means at that point, but in talking with this 15 year old girl, I realized I had been slipping and perhaps it was time to find some time to focus on my inner me…find my sunshine.

As fate would have it, that night the conversation continued, in a way, into an evening walk with LP. She knows me and knows my needs and as I was discussing my recent frustrations about the situation I have found myself in, she had some interesting insight. I had told Michigan the night before what I had been feeling about myself since his departure. He offered to give me space if I needed it and my response was, “I don’t know what I need, but I know it is not that.” Immediately I questioned that logic, and LP was the one to give a voice to why.

Michigan and I had just spent four glorious days together…non-stop, together all the time, for four days. Typically this would drive me insane (and to be honest it had started to by the end) because I am the girl that needs my me-time. I thrive on it. Him leaving should have signaled the beginning of that much needed space, but because the immediate physical distance became so great, I was still feeling the need for some sort of connection. I couldn’t make plans for next weekend then go on radio silence for two days because that is not an option for us. What I want is to sit in silence and be held, what I get is talking or nothing. See the pickle?

I still have yet to figure out the solution, but everything heals itself in time. Time will bring him closer or will end us. My hope is that time will bring clarity and understanding. There is a lesson I need to learn in this, and with luck I will learn it and everything will once again make sense. Right now I just have to find a way to be comfortable with the unknown.

Laundry

25 Oct

October 23, 2011

Dear HB,

I was doing laundry tonight at my apartment, and realized the last time I had done it here and not at my parents’ house was with you. It seems an odd thing to bring you to mind, doing laundry, I didn’t even let you help, so I have to ask myself why it made me miss you so much. Laundry. I’m laughing at myself now, but I literally had to stop and take a deep breath. I wanted to call you, and just hear your voice, but its Sunday night and I’m pretty sure you are out of work, and even more sure that if you are, you are with her.

I know I can’t contact you directly, so I got the brilliant idea to write to you, and put it out into the universe, hoping that maybe, just maybe you’ll read this and realize you miss me too. I haven’t written letters I had no intentions of sending since Mr. Wrong and I broke up, so the fact I feel the need to do it again is worrisome. It makes me wonder why I ever needed to give you up. Not to say how I was feeling wasn’t valid, or that I was in love, or  even that the fact you were wasn’t terrifying, but all you were asking for (in theory) was time. Was my time really so precious I couldn’t give you a fraction of it?

Alas, this is where we are. You are with her and I am…dealing. I know the most likely scenario is that I will write you a dozen letters, you’ll never read them, and I will eventually move on, but I need to do it. I need to hope that you’ll stumble upon one of them and miss me enough to call, or that one day you will break up with her and I’ll have some sort of record to show you  I wasn’t lying when I told you I cared. I do miss you, and there’s not a day that goes by I don’t think of you. All I want is for you to be happy, however, and if that is a life without me, then so be it. I’ll come to accept that. For now, don’t judge me too much for almost driving up your street sometimes one my way to work, or for craning my neck to see if you are driving the Ford truck in front of me.

All the Best,

PR