Thursday, September 10, 2009

Nods in agreement

I have this fabulous friend, Meg. If I tried to explain her, how I feel about her, and the aspects of our friendship here you would be reading for DAYS. I would be trying to put into words for hours what can not be put into words: the Wonders of the Meg. So, to save us all time, I will instead simplify it for now by saying this: Meg IS fabulousness and she inspires fabulousness in me.

This past Friday a package was delivered to my home: a break-up non-wedding box of goodness from Meg.

The box was filler with a surplus of Non-wedding weekend treats. Although the entire package is worth sharing with you, I wanted to share something SO magnificent that I can't even wait until I am near a computer- that's right; I'm blogging via blackberry.

Meg sent me some lit to read. Four essays/short stories she pulled from various sources, made short prelude and overture notes about and sent for me to read.

Meg always picks the cream-of-the-crop lit to send my way, so as soon as I saw it in the box of goodness, I was elated!

I read two of the pieces at the lake this weekend, and after a day that put me in a less-than-grand mood, I decided to pack the remaining pieces and head out to the local coffee shop to lose my mind in the words of others.

I started an essay that left me breathless in the end. The entire story was interesting, but the closing two paragraphs grabbed such a hold of me that I wanted to get them out there for the blog world to digest right away.

From Dallas Angguish's The Camping Ground -

"But that's what happens when you get dumped isn't it? You search for reassurance or affirmation anywhere you can, no matter how debasing, no matter how opposite it might be to what you'd want if you were in your right mind.

And it's not true what they say, that time heals all wounds. The wounds just add up, until our hearts are like voodoo objects, littered with pins and punctures. I didn't know that then but even if I had I wouldn't have done anything differently. I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't"

How true is this? On so many plains! Do you relate?

The first few weeks post wedding-cancellation and relationship ending I caught myself more than once trying to gain my own confidence in the eyes of others. I wanted so badly to be wanted, to be desired. And to feel wanted and desired.

Deep down I knew I was wonderful, and worth it, and enough for the right man. But I also wanted to FEEL enough; and right away!

I grabbed every compliment and held on tight, allowing it to reassure mt own selfesteem. Every smile I received from a stranger, or flirty/friendly conversation gave me a sort of hope, perhaps artificial, of my future with men. It seems kind of sad and pathetic writing it out; but I want to be honest in my emotions and feelings having gone through this broken engagement.

I also love the voodoo heart theory! I agree whole heartedly (although, punctured heartedly may be more appropriate ;) ) and am so thankful for what this experience is teaching me. (Could there BE a bigger cliche, seriously?) I am already proving to myself that I am better off without the Mrs right now. Even when its hardest on my soul; when I'm feeling extra sad and lonely and empty (and dramatic) I know that my life now is better than it would have been had he never told me he couldn't go through with it. And I will even admit, right here on the world wide web that I TRULY believe that my life now is SO MUCH RICHER, & FULLER outside of that relationship. (I don't thank Jesus for this enough!)

I'm often in awe of the strength I've shown during the past two months. (You will read more about this in the next few posts). Sometimes I'm strong for my benefit, and sometimes I think I'm strong for the benefit of the people who love and worry about me. But either way, I know, I'm better off in EVERY way- by choosing strength and moving forward.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

One Step at a Time

This weekend I had a dream.

In it, I was walking.  I didn’t know where I was, I was just walking. 
I didn’t try to inquire with anyone, not even myself, on where I was going. 
I was just walking.  Moving forward. One step at a time.

The greatness of the sun was directly above me, causing my shadow to be almost nonexistent as I continued on. As I looked up ahead, I could only see in front of me a few yards from where I was- the great space beyond what was next on the path remained a mystery, yet I never stopped going.

I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

Soon, an indefinable anxiousness within me led me to start to jog, and eventually my speed quickened and I was running a steady, moderate pace.

Although I didn’t know where I was going, I never questioned my direction. 
I just kept moving forward.  One step at a time.

Breathing in rhythm with my legs, I continued on, never looking back.  My heart was racing, partially because of my now long-distance jaunt, but partially because of something else; the same thing that was causing my stomach to feel a bit fluttery.   A cross between the the last day of school and the moment before the plane takes off.  A little bit like being 3rd and goal, or on the line for two when the score is tied. Everything was hanging in the balance, but it did not stop me.

I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

Around me, I heard no sounds- just pure, unaltered unliving.  It was not death, but more like an absence of life.  No sounds of birds or wind or any sort of being near me.  And as I focused on what lay ahead, the cadence of my own running was the only sound my ears could hear.   pit pat pit pat pit pat pit pat. Zoning in on the movement of my arms as I continued on, I could hear the gentle swish with each stroke of my forearm passing my side. swish swoosh swish swoosh.  Pit swish pat swoosh. Pit swish pat swoosh.  Centered on the echo I was creating in my otherwise silent surround of landscape, I carried on.

I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

Soon I began to realize that I was abnormally and somewhat uncharacteristically, not tiring. I had been running for what suddenly seemed like miles, and yet I had no desire to slow my pace, no desire to catch my breath, no desire to stop.  I was comfortable in my race.  Comfortable in the numbness that surrounded me.  Comfortable in the pit pat and the swish swoosh. My comfort soothed me ahead.

I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

I was alone in this place.  My head was held high. Although comfortable in my surroundings, I kept my eyes straight ahead- looking forward for an answer.  Where was I going and when would I get there?  What was I doing on this path and what adventures were laid in front of me? I was comfortable in my confusion, in my questioning inner dialogue, in my hopeful, eager, unknowingness of my current state of simply being.

I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

The moment I realized I was at peace in my journey something changed.  I knew I was doing what needed to be done, everything about my movement- the pace, the sound, the steadiness- made me feel I was being successful.  It seemed like what I was supposed to be doing- running this way.  I had made the right decisions; I had felt confident in my actions.  And as I had made note of my personal triumph of doing something that felt so right, I saw it ahead of me. 

A darkened building in the distance.
Doorless, almost barn-like, open to the outside.
I kept moving forward.
One step at a time.
My pace slowed as I grew closer.

The room was devoid of an inside light source, yet the once hovering sun seemed suddenly in the distance, behind the building, casting an eerie glow through colored glass windows on the west side of the structure.

Rows and rows of backless benches. 
Split into two sections. 
Creating a natural aisle.
I moved forward.
One step at a time.
Ahead of the benches was a sort of alter.
Dark, weathered wood.
Although frightening, somewhat warm and welcoming.

I approached the back of the room.  Suddenly more aware of myself.  Aware of the lack of others. Feeling somewhat strong as an individual and somewhat eager for community that may gather here in this room.  I took a mental inventory of all that was around me.

Empty room.
Empty rows.
Empty benches.
Empty sounds.
Empty feelings.
The emptiness created so much unknown. So much possibility.

At the aisle.
I moved forward.
One step at a time.
Looked to my right.
Looked to my left.
One step at a time.
Took my time.
Took my chances.
One step at a time.
Passing each row
Of cold, empty spaces
One step at a time
One step at a time

With all my questions still in tact – the when, what, where, why- all seemed to start to disappear.  It simply didn’t matter anymore. 

It didn’t matter where I was.
It didn’t matter what I was or wasn’t doing.
It didn’t matter when I arrived or when I was planning to depart.
And it didn’t matter why.
Positive, Negative.
Dark, Light.
Quick, Slow.
Eager, Anxious.
Nothing mattered to me.
And nothing needed to.
The time had come.

I was at the alter, ready for what lay ahead.
Ready to look back.

On my own and standing tall, unafraid, I turned and faced where I had come from. 

In front of me was a room of imaginary congregates of my past. All with their own opinions and judgments.  With their own takes on the stories of my past and the outlook of my future. Their own agendas and propaganda. Their commentaries so often louder and more entertaining than my own words, than my own memories, and than the truth. 

Now, however, I didn’t hear a sound from any of them.  Just my own heart beat, slow and steady. Pum-pump. Pum-pump. And I knew that’s what I needed to hear.  What I should want to hear. 

My own heart beat. 
My own pace. 
My own race,
My own pit pat and swish swoosh and pum-pump. 

And so I head back down the aisle, strong and tall and alone.
No questions answered. No understanding granted.
I just kept moving forward. One step at a time.

Monday, September 7, 2009

The Day After

As I start this blog, it is 10 minutes til 1:00 AM.
I am sitting on a fairly uncomfortable couch in a lake house my parents rented in a near by town to where I currently reside.
The 7th of September is upon us and I couldn't be more at peace- which, ironically, confuses and frightens me a bit.

I was suppose to marry the once proclaimed "love of my life" on September 6. I should currently be spending the night in the honeymoon suite and later today I should be leaving for our honeymoon.

But I'm not. We're not. I am still a Miss and we are no longer a "we".

Six weeks ago, my fiance told me he couldn't go through with it.
I chronicled my life prior to our relationship on a blog. I discussed the growth of our relationship on a blog. I documented the wedding plans on a blog. And, now, I am ready to move on, look ahead, and take a stand for myself - on a blog.

It's been something I've been debating for a few weeks now.
I've always had a love for words and have been a self proclaimed writer for as long as I can remember.

Blogging is something I've enjoyed for years and I have noted lately how much I miss it. And in this transitional period of my life, I think it's time to let you in.

In to my mind, my heart and my soul. Into my day to day activities, my goals and dreams, and my abundance of lists and plans. Into my quest for remembering who I am on my own, evaluating who I had become in the relationship, and defining how I can become the best me possible.

So, welcome. And come on in.

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