Keep my eyes open wide”
Turns out, I already did that in January! My brain; it leaks. I forget more shorter term things, especially when distracted by life and work and baby and whatever other excuse I have about my disorganized brain and heart. Not that I want it compartmentalized, as that is even worse, but I seem to toggle between the two extremes. There isn’t always a healthy rhythm and flow in there and I’ve been having a rough time lately. The last several weeks have been some of the happiest I’ve known, and also some of the hardest. I think the happiness comes from the hope and the clarity. The sad/hard parts are from all of the pain I’ve felt/caused, and the self-loathing that I brought it upon myself. It’s a big cross to bear; weight to carry. I won’t move on otherwise.
I can’t handle how stupid I’ve been in the past, and how unfocused. The lack of confidence and the search for shortcuts and easy fixes. Not putting in the work. Letting years go by thinking it was Cassidy’s fault for not helping me with my early anxiety. Well if I didn’t know it was there, how could he have known? He probably just thought I was cold and damaged, and probably I was. Having all of these realizations at once, like salty, strong ocean waves, has been interesting at best. It’s amazing to glimpse outside of your problems and patterns, and past. It’s astonishing to think you can probably overcome some and live more openly and clearly. And it’s also difficult to keep momentum going, and not let fears and inhibitions take you under again. They will drag you around; then finally toss you up to the surface to breathe. Again. Take shallow breaths; but only enough to keep you alive. Not to set you afloat for good. Seeking better, more open seas.
The hardest things to do should be the easiest. To give and show and express love freely. To find their love languages and to find your own; to see others but also be seen. My mind exaggerates. I don’t just see myself as “not pretty” – I will think, “There is no one uglier than me.” I don’t just see myself as damaged goods – I will think, “There is no one more screwed up and unworthy of love as I am.” I can see it from both sides, and know sometimes how illogical it is. It’s just that somewhere along the line, the fairy tale was tainted. How can I be so in love, and so unable to sustain showing it? There is no one I find more attractive, steady, intuitive, and adventurous.
The beautiful colors
Disintegrate under me
As the crowd rushes closer, I wanna feel it hit”
Ever the darker alternative, it’s weird how it’s easier to live in fear and walk in your same old footsteps, over and over and over. I honestly have no desire to let more years or decades pass me by and pass by me like that. I don’t want to fear loving anyone, or expressing it as well. No matter how sick they might be; scared or scary. No matter what they’re going through. I want to celebrate with my loved ones, and mourn with them as well. I want to grow into the person I thought I’d be by now, even if it takes a lifetime of occasional missteps and missed steps. That’s the beauty of it. You get that horrible churning feeling in your stomach when you miss a step and stumble too fast to the bottom; too soon. It doesn’t take as much to catch up and rise up, only to tread more carefully next time. No more protected, but maybe no less protected either.
Sometimes I worry about people I love never really changing; dying because of or with their own demons and patterns. I guess I really worry about that for myself. I can’t change that with one realization, or even two. These salty and strong waves and these eyes open wide. I can’t promise I won’t fall down into certain darknesses again. Not all darknesses. There are low depths I know I’ll never sink to, but it will be difficult to always remain steady and strong and surfacing; to be riding these waves. Eventually it will be like second nature, I like to believe, in staying open and honest and expressive and clear. You’ll fall at times, but I imagine it gets easier to get up again.
Every little thing”
Last week, Athena led Lucy down an errant path (into the woods), and both came back quilled. Athena came back hours before Lucy did. Now I love all of our pets, and care for all of our pets – honoring one-on-one time, and snuggles, with each of them. Lucy, though, she blew open my heart the way my childhood dog had. Maybe it’s because we got her so young, because of the pandemic, and we got her when I was pregnant and staying home 100% of the time. She gives me the most tender heart imaginable. I was frantic without her, my hands and stomach and throat curled up in all of the horrors of what could be. I thought maybe she had been stolen, or maybe mistaken for a coyote and shot. And I worried she had been hit by a car. I was flattened.
And make me breathe
Then I need you to wake me
‘Cause I wanna see every, every little thing”
Until I saw her come back home through the woods. I was looking out the baby’s window while he napped, and my heart lifted at seeing her. She wasn’t as badly quilled as Athena, but her face and chest took the brunt of it. I loaded up the three kids and brought her to the emergency vet where Cassidy had already been waiting for hours with Athena to be seen. Then we did shifts, as he waited for Athena to be sedated, de-quilled, and brought out to him. He brought her home after Lucy had been taken inside for the same. Then, after an hour or two, I went to pick her up.
After a long period of waiting in the car, she was finally ours again. I guided her to the front seat, and she whined a little and fell asleep. Once I got on the dark highway, for about 15-20 minutes of driving, she woke up, whined some more, and then placed her head in the crook of my right arm. While driving with my left hand, which I always do, I used my right hand to cradle her head the whole way home. She didn’t sleep and she no longer whined. She just looked up at me, eyes open wide. I was exactly what she needed; nothing more, and nothing less. I can be that for you.
(Wanna see everything)”