Looking In…

…But never seeing out again.

With me, everything is “Private” – Private to the point I don’t share when I am in serious need of outside help, understanding or advice. I don’t even share when I’m in pain, because… you guessed it… it’s “private”.

I don’t share readily – the one person I share the most with is my boyfriend and even he feels I’m closed up half the time. He doesn’t press me… He knows I’ll share, eventually… partly. I think he knows I never share completely, and I justify it as ‘reasons’, but really… “private”. He knows how I am. Clearly he’s accepted it. (We don’t share a household. I would have to be far more open in that circumstance because I would have to be.)

As I told him today, one of the reasons I am so ‘closed’ is, his is the only opinion that matters. I don’t want him to know when I have trouble because I don’t want it to alter his opinion of me. I should know better than to think it does, but that’s the way I feel about it.

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That Thing Again…

…Or The Places Where We Come Back To.


I didn’t realize it hasn’t been as long as I thought since I last posted. Fact of the matter is, I forgot I even HAVE a blog and I last remember updating in June.

It’s really been a rough several of months. I seem to keep saying that, but perhaps it’s because it keeps being true.

I am finding my self in a condition, in a place, I never imagined I would be in. It’s terrifying to me. I feel that every little thing is final, and indicative of something much larger, however my logical brain knows that can not really be the truth.

I also find it really, universally, unfair – because I never took anything for granted, I never felt myself above anything or anyone else’s circumstances.

I know, also, I can not move forward with that mind set. It isn’t a matter of what is right or fair or even HOW it happened or laying blame; it’s a matter of realizing where you are and making a decision rather you want to be there or not and what you have to do to change it.


Let Me In…

…Let me out.

Just so you know, I know.

I’ve always known.  I know what you did.
And, after I saw you, I know YOU know I know.
Your awkwardness and bee-line to be anywhere else, except in that space, told me everything I needed to know.
Your reaction showed me your guilt and your shame.
You wear it like your new skin, which really, is just shedding of your old skin
– your true skin,
Who you are underneath the stories and masks and pretense of goodness.
Decent people don’t wear virtue as a means to an end.
So quite pretending that’s a label you can wear
It’s haute couture to your thrift store design and I’ve never been so bold (or tacky) to directly ask.
I can’t even take when it’s given. 
I am so broken by experience I can’t trust what’s in front of me, what’s in the moment or even what I know to be good.

The Scariest Things…

..Are those which we hold inside.

I have had a lot of shit happen to me over my life – a lot of (maybe) negative shit that people sometimes say “I can’t believe that happened” – But, the truth is always stranger than fiction. Always.

I generally get over  (“find the good”), I have forgiven a LOT – I have forgiven things that would NEVER be on other people’s radar, ever (nor should they be).  I had a roof stolen.. no, seriously, ACTUALLY, let that sink in… I HAD A ROOF STOLEN – those are word that should ever be spoke, let alone be someone’s reality.
(I am sure, at some point, I did in fact write about this – I am not revisiting it now – if it exists, it’s likely under the ‘forgiveness’ tag) – this is not the current issue…

.. the issue is the thing I might hate you for….

….and I rarely use the term hate, and *never* lightly…

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Eyes To See…

…And that which is obvious even to the sightless.

Recently, I had released emotions regurgitate, much like the overindulgence of a night meant to be forgotten.

Ideally, when we think thoughts (read “of people”) we would prefer to not think about, we’d like to switch to “off” and not even deal with it. In being human, however, it is never that easy.
The best of intentions and the best of conclusions still come with baggage.

Sometimes the thoughts creep in, regardless.

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Fractured Metatarsals…

…and the other things that slowed me down.

I have been running, actually for years now, like a rat on an exercise wheel, with the attention span of a gnat.
This may sound like a good thing, but it isn’t. It has been a way to avoid many things in my life. Sometimes, we have to slow down to give ourselves opportunity to learn and grown, and when we don’t do that, sometimes life will make us.

Well, life has decided to make me.
In fairness, life has given me subtle warnings that I needed to re-evaluate and assess and make changes, but apparently, I don’t do subtle well, so life decided to go all mobster on me. Well, on my foot, anyway.

I have literally been slowed by a break and a cast and immobility.

It’s painful, it’s inconvenient and it’s annoying, but there’s always multiple sides to every event we face. This is also a gift.

How can a busted up foot in a 40 yr old be a gift, you may ask?
Well… just that. I have to slow down. I realize I am babying this. I am taking it slow and seriously. If I was younger, I would have taken it as *no big deal*; probably tried to go dancing already! Consequence and arthritis would be *sometime* in the future. Well, when you are this age, a break sorta COMES with the immediate threat of arthritis and the distinct threat of longer healing time, if at all, plus! More pain. So I am forced to slow down.

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