After the Storm

13 Dec

Last night, after Brenda’s revelation, I went home and into myself and what I found, I didn’t like. I found that in compromising myself, in letting others’ behaviors affect me to the point where I do not flow nor feel free to be honest has got to stop, especially when it comes to relationships . If I’m ever going to be completely happy with someone, they have to be privy to the real me from day one, not the abridged version. I tire of hiding the fact that I’m deep, that I feel. I know that I’m different and I’m done with trying to figure out how people feel about me in relationships. I tire of guessing. Is radical honesty too much of a foreign concept for others?

Last night, I finally came apart and it wasn’t pretty. I finally realized there is nothing wrong with me except being a willing victim of some very screwed up men. So now there is nothing left but to surrender. There is nothing left for me to do but just give up and take back my life. I am not eating well. I am not working out well. I’m not sleeping well. I’m just fucking not well. And I am ashamed to be this weak and I hate myself for it. I hate the fact that I have run out of hope and that I have to find some way to face the fact that I just might be exactly the way I am for the rest of my natural life. Single and alone. This is scary for me. At the heart of it comes the fear of rejection and disconnection. If in the process of simply being myself, I come to be more alone, then that is a state which I must learn to accept and find peacefulness within. I often think about what my life will be like after my mother and family have passed away. I will be reliant on the connections of my friends and their families, that thought has given me more than one sleepless night.

I went to the beach yesterday in the rain and wind, and I was reminded of the passage through the dead marshes. It is the valley of the shadow where I pass now. I’m facing something, looking at it,  but swear to God I hope I can find an answer before going back and picking up a life that seems so crazy, so empty. I’ve been holding my breath for years and now I can’t hold it anymore.

I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to be happy and I want to love.

I don’t have to be rich or lead a perfect life. I just want to share my intimate world with a kindred soul. I am alone. I have no children, no siblings…just friends. And honestly, after six days of not letting them know what is up with me on Facebook. It feels like no one is really missing me. I’m in pieces in my pj’s after being up all night. I’m hung over and wondering what the hell I am doing here.

All I can think about is Zillie’s, and the beach, and Brenda, and three words:  Love is simple.

Will this wind wipe away all that remains,
all the shards of shell mixed with grit
blown into crevices of my soul
like a windowless summer cottage after a hurricane?
Will it smooth out the pain,
sand over scratches,
scour half painted and flaking fixes from the last gale
over this well worn house?
Or do I just let waves wear it out under each corner,
wash upon wash,
tearing down the vagrant walls,
the ghost of permanence echoing in its bones?
The halls are filled with shattered shells,
cracked sea homes,
covered in a thin veil of numb powder
like dust on the floor of a house

no one has walked inside of
for fear of collapse

after storm.

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