100 Questions Day 2: What Do I Need To Say That Others Have Left Unspoken?

This question was a little confusing, but I interpreted it as giving a voice to the things other's should have or couldn't say to me in life. There was a lot of pain in this question, but I also realized how much progress I have made. I don't need to hear these things from any specific person other than myself. I can create my own closure.

Day 2: What do I need to say that others have left unspoken?

It isn't your fault. I tore you down because I don't know how to love myself. You were and are always enough. I took as much as you were willing to give. I lied. And lied. And lied. You were right not to trust me . I didn't value you. I didn't understand how to love you. I am sorry. I never allowed real intimacy. I let you down. I saw you as an opportunity and obstacle most of the time. I blew up our life and always thought I had the power to keep you coming back. You deserve better.

I saw you as an escape from my discomfort. I violated your body, spirit, mind, trust, and you as whole. I am responsible. I am opportunistic and callous. I used you. I am a predator. You didn't ask for it. You are not responsible for my behavior. 

I was insecure and wasn't ready, but the time we had was good.

I did my best and I love you.

100 Questions Day 1: Where Is My Heart Guiding Me?

100 Questions That Will Transform Your Life

I am going to answer one question every day for the next 100 days. I have been feeling spiritually disconnected and trying to keep myself busy in an attempt to not feel “unproductive.” Really, I have been terrified of the next two months bringing up feelings that I have no interest in feeling.

So here goes Day 1:

Where is my Heart guiding me?

My mind keeps pulling me in a million different directions: “You need a ‘real’ job.” “Go to school full-time.” “What will people think if you get a job at a coffee shop?” “What have you done with your life?” “If I don’t move closer to J, this will fall apart.”

But when I let myself get quiet for just a second, I start getting a pretty clear vision of what my heart wants:

I love my apartment. I love the area I live in. I love learning and digging into school. I love my coffee shops and local food and bookstores. I want to get involved in my community. I want to develop real relationships. I want some roots. For the first time in my life, I really feel like I am tired of running.  I have worked hard, even if it feels like I’m starting from scratch now. I gave my marriage every portion of myself until there was nothing left to give. I worked and went to school and did whatever I needed to do to support myself.  

It is ok for me to have a season of rest. To slow down. To fill myself with good, and joy, and happiness, and all of the things that provide nectar for my soul.

I want to get a job that doesn’t suck my life force away, but allows me to buy nourishing foods, go see movies, and start horseback riding and going to yoga classes. I want to actually learn while going to school. I want to spend meaningful time with J and nourish our relationship, while still nourishing myself. I want to spend time with my niece and nephews and family in meaningful ways. I want be involved in my church because it fills me up and I want to give back the overflow. I want take walks, go hiking, and fall asleep at the beach. I want to start saving money for my future family.

My heart and God have been patiently whispering these things to me in my stillness. As my eyes get heavy at night and I can’t distract myself anymore. I am terrified of taking care of myself and allowing myself to be happy, But my mom said something to me today that really made me stop: “A beat you down for 10 years, are you going to take his place?”

Hell. No.

Did you lose your song?

Where did you lose your song little bird?
I never hear you anymore.
The sun rises quiet and alone.

Was it in writhing flesh
lost in strange bodies,
cold touch and whiskey breath?

Where did you lose your long little bird?
I thought I heard you this morning,
but it was the wind chilling my bones.

Was it in cutting words
reflected in the mirror,
violent hunger and sweat?

Don’t you know?
The mountains have nothing to echo,
they are just carbon and voiceless stories.

Don’t you know?
The moon has stopped chasing the sun.
There is no melody to bring the morning.

Butterflies Again

I’m feeling butterflies again
I was sure that winter had frozen them all –
stopped every last wing from fluttering.

Maybe his eyes thawed them.
“What! What could you possibly see here?”
But I couldn’t make him look away.

Or maybe it was the way he didn’t touch me, at least not at first.
He leaned in (inhale) and pulled back (exhale) with my breath –
And reached for my scars instead of my display.

He shared space with me.
On mountaintops and the edges of black seas.
Tangled on couches and rental car back seats.

And maybe I wasn’t ready.
And maybe I was broken.
But the butterflies have awoken –
there is a wildfire burning in my veins
consuming my past and turning her to ash.

Holding Hands in Holland

Hands that lead me,

   spin me and heal me;

       I feel lost and found and swept away.

Eyes that hold their gaze,

   tearing through the shame,

      seeing the softness I thought was lost.

Lips that graze my skin,

   raw and vulnerable,

      Breaking through my rusted armor.

I feel myself splitting open at your touch;

Torn between what was lost.

Trapped in this disguise.

I am desperate to escape you

   before you feel my brokenness. 

But then you pull me close:

"You don't need to run away anymore."

I am home.

I can love.

I can be loved.

Falling

I am in love with him. Desperately at times. Madly. Completely, I can feel my body melt and give at every touch. His breath on my skin sets me on fire.

And the way he looks at me… It’s as if not a single person in this world has ever actually seen me before. Like I have only seen shadows and distorted fun-house reflections mirrored off of other’s eyes. But his eyes are the truth.

And they swallow me up. And I forget my name. I forget the stories of who I used to be and who I thought I had to be after everything got smashed to pieces. 

All I see now is the raw, wild, writhing thing. This eternal being pressing up against the edges of her skin. A girl who dove into darkness. A girl who fought her way to the surface. Who is harder now, but finding her softness in his hands.

He has taken my broken, ugly pieces and examined each one. Turning them in his hands until, slowly, the edges lost their sharpness. He has patched my cracks with gold. 

Is this what love feels like?

I want to inhale you.
Feel your breath travel through me,
hot and wet in my mouth
burning my throat like whiskey.
Filling me up; all passion and desperation

I want to settle in your bones.
Wrap you around me like an old blanket,
soft and warm; your skin feels like home.
Your arms and legs tangled around me
so I forget where my own body still aches.

I want to fall inside your eyes;
they are wells of honey and fire that swallow me up.
Penetrating my deepest wounds.
Staring straight into the ugly dark spaces
I still have light. I still have softness.