Wednesday, December 28, 2011

January 15, 2011--cone...

it is taking every fiber of my being not to reach out to her in some way. make sure she remembers me. make sure she thinks of me.

i found a funny picture of a dog in a daisy costume. i wanted to send it to her. i didn't. i posted in on fb, hoping maybe she'll like it.

i read a poem she wrote in september, gearing up for a march/rally for marriage equality, i think. the poem is so beautiful, so moving. amazing. i want to tell her i think so. i feel like i shouldn't. this is the weekend to sit on my hands. so i won't say anything...

i wrote on my public blog for the first time in almost 8 months. it's a revealing post, i think, talking about how restless i get in the face of fear, and how much i try to fight not knowing what's happening, feeling groundless. the post was inspired by my experience yesterday, which only you readers and a few close friends know about, but the point i made there is that i'm running, running, running, trying to force things, and i cannot. i have to stop messing, stop scratching, stop picking. so this picture is my visualized mantra for the weekend:


i'm trying to accept the groundlessness of life this weekend. trying to accept that there is not always something to DO. like a dog with a cone, i cannot scratch the wound all the time!! i'm trying to hold on too tightly to something that may not even exist, and i feel that my pleas for her attention are all in the service of keeping things from changing, or making them into what i think is the "best" or "right" way for my life to be, i.e., 10.0 wants me, i want her, we live happily ever after with our 2 dogs. but that might not be the right way, especially since THERE IS NO RIGHT WAY!

so i won't tell her i love her poem, i won't message her asking how she is, i won't share any links on her fb page. i won't won't won't. i will wait.

waiting is the hardest thing for me to do.

i hate it.

1 comment:

  1. I'm not sure if you are saying you literally do these things to yourself or metaphorically.

    ReplyDelete