Beneath the bright moonlight he reaches over and takes my hand. Our feet dangle from the pier and the waves gently crash against the jetties. Nearby I can hear some fish splashing in and out of the water. The breeze is refreshing on my sunburnt skin from earlier in the day.
“Do you want me to sing you a song,” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
I don’t have to look at him to know his eyes are twinkling. His damn eyes are always twinkling. He’s like a child, so easily amused and even easier to please. I’ve grown tired of playing these games with him. I’ve only been trying to pass the time and he was convenient.
I decide to ignore his question but he starts singing anyways. I don’t know who told him he has a good voice, he starts singing some twangy nonsense that is neither my taste, nor is on key. I shudder and pull out my phone. I don’t have to look at him to know he is craning his neck to see who I am messaging. And in this moment, I do not care.
I’m messaging Him, of course. The only one so far in this lifetime who has understood me. The only one who hasn’t asked me to not be Me. The only one who has been able to soothe my fears and anxieties. The only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m wasting my time.
He leans in and I know he is about to kiss me, in an effort to take my mind off of Him. I feel the disgust on my skin like creepy crawlers, more than just shivers. Like a flesh eating disease. I sigh and stand, wiping my hands on my pants, turn and walk back down the dock. Back towards Him. Of all the things in the world that make absolutely no sense, returning to Him is the most sane thing I could ever do in this insane life. I will always return to him.
Was I convincing enough today? Was my smile bright enough, wide enough? Did I laugh at all the right moments and listen intently when it was appropriate? Was I happy enough?
Did you believe me today when I said I was okay? Did I hug you tight enough, kiss you long enough, was I everything you wanted me to be?
Did I seem happy to be carrying the load on my own? Did I come off as strong enough, wide enough, energized enough to continue to do it all on my own?
Did I seem interested enough, knowledgable enough, entertained enough for you to want to continue to pursue a friendship with me? Did I appear to be everything you are looking for in whatever it is that you’re looking for?
Was I convincing enough today? Did you have complete faith that I’m not crumbling on the inside? Did I mask the anxiety well enough that you felt safe to continue on your way with a smile and a wave? Did you feel confident that tomorrow would be an even brighter day?
Love me unrelentlessly. Unconditionally. Without boundaries.
With an abundance of acceptance, forgiveness, and understanding. With kindness and patience and passion. With compassion and excitement and a sense of adventure.
In color that leaks from the walls of your heart. With the desire to showcase what we are about. With the understanding that tomorrow is not promised, all there is today, right now, this moment.
With a song in your heart and a smile on your lips and the truth that we can withstand anything together.
For better or worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health, til death do us part.
Love me unforgivingly.
I’ve missed a day! 😫 Exhaustion… Alas I’ll write two tonight I suppose.
These Eyes- A Haiku
These eyes, deep dark brown
Horrors seen, endless tears shed
Still sparkling with hope.
Enter a caption
What am I doing.
This is what has been going through my mind these past couple of days. I want to be a writer. I want my words to matter. I’ve got these stories burning so brightly inside of me, but I keep them locked up tightly because they are my truths- truths that I am always afraid are too painful for others to know.
I’ve been dreaming about the beach lately, only the dreams are more like nightmares. The beach is like a lover whom I can never reach. My fingers brush against the sweetness of it’s image but it always pulls back just when I am about to touch it. It’s painful. Without the ocean I am without peace.
But really is this true?
I’ve been wondering these past couple of days if I am doing everything I can to be a good mother, a good partner, a good person. I feel like I am, doing all I can I mean.
But really is this true?
I tell myself I will follow my heart and follow my dreams and do what makes me feel filled to the brink with happiness and peace. I tell myself that no matter what has happened in the past, I still have time to make the future even better.
But there’s always that question nagging in the back of my mind-
But really, is this true?
As the storm rages around me, I try to remember that it was shelter I was seeking. I gaze around at the remnants of what was and wonder how this happened. My home, my haven, now a shell of it’s former self. These things, things I thought made up who I am and what we are, I see now that they are meaningless.
The storm, god this storm, it beats against me, unrelentingly and I have long forgotten that I hate the wind and the rain. They have become such a big part of me, it’s as if it has always been this way.
He reaches out and takes my hand and I can see that he too is weary, yet his love for me is so intense that he is content to weather out this storm. He has always been by my side. He always will be by my side. Somehow this makes the storm not so frightening. Not so unbearable. Not so devastating.
The storm rages on but I am here now. I am safe.
Home Sweet Home
Seashells scattered, remnants of sand sculptures, sun setting in the distance. This is where I need to be.
Heaven reaching bonfires, roasted marshmallows, toes in the sand, breezy salt air flowing off the ocean. This is where I need to be.
Lightning bugs, crickets chirping, nature’s sounds enveloping, blanket of warmth caressing my soul. This is where I need to be.
One lone lighthouse in the middle of the expansive ocean- my home away from home- lighting the way to brighter days. This is where I need to be.
Mine is but a chirp in a crowd of screams. My face, hidden in a sea of faces, drowning as we ebb and flow as one. My voice has grown hoarse and my throat is raw. I cannot see the shore any longer and my arms grow tired from treading. With every new wave I swallow down a little more water, the salt begins to taste like blood and I cannot catch my breath. I am drowning.
My arms and legs are growing so weary, I am losing my strength. My legs are stretching, trying to touch the bottom but instead my toes brush against something slick. I’m waiting for a savior.
I know the storm is coming. I turn my face up to the skies and watch the dark clouds rolling in. It’s like a time lapse, moving quickly but in frames. I am mesmerized. I cannot look away as the lightning crashes and the sky is illuminated. I wonder what is beyond those clouds and I wonder if today will be the day I find out.
And suddenly there is a man before me and he reaches his hand out to me and tells me he will save me but it must be my decision and mine alone. His eyes are so familiar and he tells me he has loved me for a thousand years and a thousand more before that and all I need to do now is to take his hand. But my arms are so heavy, I’m slowly sinking. I pray for relief.
I try to convince myself that even if I do resurface, even if I make it through this, is it worth it? I’ve been trying my best to stay afloat for so long and even when the storm passes I know there will be another one and another one after that. There are always storms and I cannot seek shelter. I face the storm alone as bravely as I can and after awhile the salt water shows me illusions that are so beautiful. I feel my muscles start to relax as my mind convinces me that all is well and I slowly start to sink. I am so tired but I cannot let go. I cannot give up. I must hold on just a little while longer. I pray for the sun to come out and I know it will if I am just patient.
Enter a caption
Maybe it’s just the amount of stress I’ve encountered for the past couple of days, maybe it’s just my anxious mind trying to play tricks on me again but I’m noticing things I don’t want to notice. Talk to me, I want to say but something inside me tries to convince me there’s nothing worth saying. The words grow thick on my tongue and press against the back of my throat.
Instead I sit silently and stew over nothing, replaying conversations from therapy sessions a few months back. He wants to know these things. No matter how crazy they sound, it’s better than not knowing at all. But I know I won’t say them. I’ll hold the words in my mouth and chew over them and turn them around and around, all the while making myself more and more anxious and angry. The air grows thick- too thick to breathe evenly.
He’s asked me three times in the past hour what’s wrong and each time I’ve responded with Nothing. I know he has noticed the change, I’ve never been very good at hiding it, nor do I particularly care to try. But still I will not voice it. It doesn’t matter. Not enough to exert the energy- physical and emotional- to use my voice. Besides, now I’m beyond wheezing and I just know I’ll faint at any moment.
It’s not a game, I’m not trying to make him chase me. I have trust issues and don’t feel that my words are safe in just anybody’s hands. Here I can vent freely because I have seen peeks into the souls of those whose words I read and while we are all very different, many of us are very much alike. It’s soothing, a comfort to know that I can marinate in the lives of people who don’t pretend it is something that it’s not. The honesty is so refreshing, not just the happiness but even the pain and anger and sadness because it was written with intense emotion sometimes in the heat if the moment and those are the moments that mean so much to me. And while I read and try to convince myself everything is as it should be, I realize I’m still holding my breath and patiently waiting for the moment when I can exhale.
Enter a caption
BETWEEN THE LINES
“I don’t understand you,” she says with an incredulous look on her face and just like all of the others I know she has read something I’ve written that she didn’t appreciate, didn’t understand. “I think you really need some help.”
I roll my eyes and grab a snack, head to the bedroom and swear off writing for the rest of my life but only moments later I’m scribbling furiously, unleashing the obscenities that I can’t bring myself to let flow freely from my lips. No matter how much others words hurt me I just can’t allow myself to do the same.
I doodle on the margins and debate over whether or not to rip the pages of this lined book out and start again but end up convincing myself that I won’t ever grow, I won’t ever learn if I keep destroying all of my words. And so I write. I write about the things I hate, I write about the things I love, I write about my fears and I feel better after I have written it all down.
There’s a comfort that comes from scribbling down my most personal thoughts, a freedom that I only feel when I am writing. I stare absently at the pages I have just filled and once again wonder if there is anyone else in the world like me, anyone else who cannot find solace in the spoken word but whom instead turns to paper. I know there are, I read their words every day in my emails, on their blogs, yet we seem so different. I haven’t found someone yet who is like me and I’m convinced I never will.
The next day I go and buy a new journal. I tell myself I will write a beautiful, happy story but I don’t make it even five pages before I realize I haven’t started a new book only begun writing a sequel. I like to think I already know how this story ends, and no matter how disappointing it is to me I cannot help but stay riveted, my eyes carefully watching every movement, my ears hearing and analyzing every spoken word. I soak it all in and later in the midnight hours with my Youngest laying next to me on my recliner I replay the entire scenes but with fictional characters. I try to force myself to write a happy ending but cannot so instead I relive the moments I have already dreamt of and tell myself the best is yet to come.