The perfect place

31 03 2011

You are embarking on an incredibly difficult journey of becoming in tune with your emotions, your intuition, and your creativity. And from what you’ve told me, I couldn’t imagine any better place to do this work than where you are right now.

-my therapist, in our session this morning.

 

 





My Hope for You

28 03 2011

I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams.

I just sat and stared at that sentence for ten minutes, feeling all the truth in it. There’s truth that makes me sing for joy, for most of those blessings carry the names and faces of  friends. There’s truth that makes my heart ache as I’m faced with how bland and colorless my dreams once were, yet even as I recognize that my old dreams have been shattered I am aware of new stirrings. I am slowly starting to weave together phantasies that find redemption in every soul-numbing second of pain I have suffered. And inflicted. And witnessed.

I cannot dream alone anymore.

Enter this post, wherein I seek to honor the blessings my friends have spoken into my life and show myself kindness at the same time.

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dreiundzwanzig

8 03 2011

What better time to exorcise a few demons than the week of my birth?

This time last year I was so lost within a hell of my own creation I couldn’t even bear the prospect of a single one of my friends cheerily wishing me a happy birthday. I was so consumed by shame, so wrapped up in my own isolation, the very thought of a face turned toward me in kindness was like a hot brand on my heart–sizzling, burning, marring. I hid from everyone. A game of hide-and-seek where the whole world was to count and find, except…was there a single person who came looking for me? The day passed me by unremarked, unacknowledged, bereft of cake…candles…smiles. The day of my birth was just another in an endless string of days of death.

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Some days

3 03 2011

Some days you have no choice but to trade jeans for pajamas before 7 o’clock.

Some days you will sign over a check for fully half of all the money in the world that isn’t even yours. You will peer into that well beneath the teller’s box and see no gold, no silver, only a handful of tarnished copper.

Some days you will be so yearning for beauty you will walk into the bookstore and spend hours smearing oil over the hearts of all the collected poets. They will all move you, but there will be one whose voice stirs your heart far more than all others. Gather your scattered coppers together and lay them at her feet; if you are lucky it will be enough for her to lead you home.

Some days you will leave the house in the sun, walk to the bus in the rain, and gather hailstones in your coffee cup.

Some days you will find the place on which you are building your foundation has been shaken to its core. You will discover that you have been sharing space, teachers, coffee, friends with a man who is no longer for this world. You will learn that those who have been supporting you are all leaning upon one another, and you will see what happens to the whole house of cards when any one is removed.

 

 

 

Sonny, I did not know you, but I miss you.