revjim.net

alone

something to lean on

(again I leave myself only 13 minutes to write.)

Somtimes I feel a deep, inner searching that leaves me feeling melancholy and alone. This has been the case lately. The most often used “solution” (though it rarely if ever works) is to intentionally occupy my mind with other thoughts and distractions. This often leads to me leaning on friendships or relationships that I shouldn’t lean on for lots of reasons. Either they are already too stressed to deal with my neediness or they simply don’t have the time. Or I don’t have a very strong or close relationship with them outside of these times so the dynamics of that relationship tend to be very lopsided. Or I attempt to lean on them in a manner that they simply can’t or won’t support (hugs from a non-hugging person, drinks with a non-drinker, etc). Or I revisit old, failed friendships in my mind (and sometimes beyond that) in an attempt to restore some portion of the past when I believe that I felt better.

It seems to come and go in waves. I think of all the people I’ve ever even briefly talked to about it, my friend Kelly seems to understand what I mean the best.

It’s all a big mind trick of course. In most cases the “me” that I express during these times is very real and exists even outside of these times. But the urgency and persistence with which it is expressed causes the message to be confused. Ultimately, it also causes confusion in my own head resulting in a terrible circle.

without transition

There will be nights where every light is out and every door is shut and locked and not a soul dare cast his eyes into the darkness in which to find you.

And there will be days where the sun shines bright and warm. Every bird will sing, and every blossom will produce the sweetest of smells released into the coolest of breezes.

And then there will be your suffering. For you will never see the transition between the two. For you, the sun will not rise nor will it set. It will simply be there until it isn’t.

corresponding paths

I miss Celeste a lot today. It’s easy to list hundreds of reasons why I’d feel this way, but nothing in particular jumps out as any different than any other day. I just do. More so than usual.

I think maybe it has to do with the way we said goodbye last night.

Jess had her for the evening and I stopped at Jess’ place just to visit for a bit. Celeste was already a little on the cranky side. Jess didn’t feel like cooking so we went out to eat. Being confined to a restaurant tends to make her even more cranky. Then we went back to Jess’ place and hung our for a bit. I got to play with her some but she was really irritable and very clingy to Jess. Eventually, Jess decided it was time for her to go to bed. Celeste didn’t like the idea so my goodbye was said through tears and whines.

on the way down

Of course, this happens when she is with me from time to time too. It’s not unusual. But the difference is, when I put her to bed on a cranky day I can cuddle her and sing her songs and play games until I know she is happy and everything is right with her world again. And when she wakes up in the morning and I can see that big smile on her face as she feeds me pretend crackers that she continues to pretend break off of a drink coaster. Even if it’s a rushed, mad dash, 30 minutes to get her awake, dressed, fed, and out the door, there’s enough time in there to just be and find that strand of peace between us.

So I guess I feel this way because I never got that peace in the end. I never got to feel like everything came back to center. Our lives — mine and Celeste’s — are, of course, very different with very different paths. Yet those paths are laid close to one another now, straying only slightly and crossing often. As we both grow our paths will take us different places but, hopefully, still cross as often as possible.

Last night, I never got the feeling that we reconnected and are back to corresponding points on our respective paths. I feel like one of us needs to slow down and the other speed up until we can meet there again. I just need that reassurance.

Jess has her again tonight, so it looks like it won’t be until Friday afternoon that I can see Celeste again and find that peace in her smile.

lonely has no opposite

lonely has no opposite

I was important.
I was not alone.
I had you.

I left.
I felt lonely.
I felt insignificant.
I was without you.

Looking behind me, I see
Though I was not alone,
I was lonely still.
Though I was important,
my importance was trivial.

Looking ahead, I see
I am alone,
though unlonely.
I am unknown,
thought my importance is significant.

Lonely has no opposite.

stagnant

I feel like I need to keep writing, even when I don’t know what result I’m seeking. I have nothing to explain, because I don’t even understand it myself. I have nothing to share because I feel as though with each passing day I get closer and closer to a complete stop. Stagnant. I have nothing to gain. I have nothing to prove. Yet I feel like if I don’t make some sort of noise — some scream in the dark — I’ll go unheard, unseen, unfound. And then I’ll be as good as gone.

drowning

Somewhere at the bottom of all this I know that I do have something to share, something for others to be excited about, something to proclaim, something people will remember. I just can’t seem to find it. And I feel like if I don’t get there soon, I’ll lose my chance. So I’m panicking.

Even though most days pass without any sort of mentioned or noticeable change in my physical or emotional life I know that something is changing — something is moving. Not because I feel it, but because I remember what has happened. It’s like this:

12 years ago I lived on coffee, cigarettes, and whatever food happened to pass in front of me when I had time for it. Slowly, second by second, in the most invisible way possible, I grew insecure, distrusting, fat, and afraid. I didn’t notice any of this happening, I just woke up one day and realized it. I was 15 pounds heavier than I should be. Most of my friends were abusive users. I tried to clean it up. I straightened everything out. I got back on the right track and moved on with life. Then I woke up one day realized it again. I was now 30 pounds heavier than I should be. While I had friendships, I hadn’t really let myself get very close to any of them. I was ignoring my wife. I was disappointed in myself in a regular basis. I was severely unhappy and all the money and time in the world wouldn’t fix it. I hadn’t challenged myself in so long. I had become stagnant. I had become complacent.

Only this time it wasn’t the past. It isn’t the past. It’s me. The present. Now. Right now. That is what I am. Fat, and stagnant, and lonely. And drowning in it all.