Oct. 7th, 2008 10:38 pm
I have always been a dreamer. Ever since I could remember I have been enthralled by stories. Books, movies, made-up stories and adventures, She-Ra... All of these things engaged my attention. I wanted to be the warrior princess, an X-Man (er... X-Woman), Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Beauty (of Beauty and the Beast fame). I read and imagined incessantly. I what-if'd. If I was in [x] situation, what would I do? I dreamed I went on grand adventures, fought wicked beasts, was turned into a mermaid, and had the worlds most orchestrated proms. (Sometimes I think I missed my calling as an event planner.)

When I got too old for such nonsense (read: I moved away from the one person who'd still play Barbies and make-believe with me), I got into theater and role-playing games. There I could be whoever I wanted to be, whoever I was cast to be. I could escape.

I've always been the odd kid. On the outside it seemed that I was content with the role. I kept saying how I didn't want to be a sheep, a conformer, that I *wanted* to be weird. On some level, I did. Inside, I was dying to be pretty, thin, accepted, "normal."

In these fantasies, in these books, in these plays, in my dreams, I could be all that I thought I wasn't: strong, beautiful, accomplished, beloved.

I kept waiting to find that magic wardrobe, to become a mutant, to be whisked away to Neverland, and when it never happened, I found myself longing for a childhood I thought I never had. Why wasn't I chosen? Why not magic? Why not me? I never went on adventures. I didn't live near the woods. We never, I never, never...

Even today, when life gets to be too much, I find myself running from my roles and responsibilities straight into the arms of a good book or a new TV series that I love. I can't get past the stress, I can't force myself to focus, I'm not where I "should" be at my age, so I escape.

After my fourth episode of "Sex and the City" tonight, it occurred to me that, even though intellectually I know this, I didn't really Know: Life is not going to start when... Life is not going to start after I lose this weight (if I ever lose it). Life is not going to start once I find love. (Boy, isn't that the truth!) Life is not going to start once I pay off my debt. Life is not going to start once I leave the country to live abroad. Life is now, and by escaping all the time, I'm missing it. I've been missing the point this whole time.

I don't regret a second of my time. Well, that's not true. Given half of a chance there are a lot of things I'd change: the way this last relationship ended, breaking up with my first boyfriend more than once (the first time should have been the last time), calling Matt one last time when I had thought I should, opening myself up sooner... In the end, all these things I did, the regrets, the joys, the laughter - THIS IS LIFE.

Every now and then it just hits me how beautiful the world is. What I had with dragonmusicmuse was beautiful, even if it was short. What I had with Matt was beautiful. The few dates I went on in-between, the disappointments, the funerals, the weddings, the experiences - it is all beautiful. Where I am is wonderful. I don't need more. I have friends, I have family, I have income, I have a home, my car runs, and I love my job. I am truly blessed.

In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter if I ever find and keep love, as disappointing as that may be. Like the Buddhists say, it is the journey that matters, not the destination.

So, while a little escapism can be recuperative and nice, I'm going to try to get myself in order - bring everything back to the middle. I'll focus on myself where I can, my students where I can, my friends and family where I can, and somewhere in the middle life will happen. (Life will happen in the extremes, too, but I'm trying to avoid that.)

In this moment, I feel like the Universe is saying, "Ah, you're awake. We were so worried."

There's no place like home.


Jul. 28th, 2008 05:07 pm
singerinthedark: (Sleepy Me)
The brush and clutter are being burned down and the world is opening up into bright and beautiful possibilities.

I think it's time for a leap of faith. Time to fly.


Feb. 28th, 2008 09:30 pm
singerinthedark: (Matthew Looking out)
March 7th is coming up. This year makes three years since I kissed Matt goodbye. It feels like a lifetime ago...

I was talking with Dearbhail and [ profile] ribbin last night, saying how this is not my favorite time of year. As I was talking about dreading March 7th, I realized that it almost felt like an act at this point - like I was dreading something because I am supposed to dread it. I was anticipating being a wreck, but this year just doesn't phase me. Three years and a lifetime ago I was in love. And now:

Oh, goddess! I still miss him. Sometimes his place in my heart still aches from the loss. I don't think I'll ever really get over that ache, but I don't feel like I'm bleeding to death anymore. I don't feel like the void is going to swallow me up. There's just an empty place where Matt should physically be. In a way, with all the death I've lived through, my life is starting to resemble Swiss cheese - lots of holes where one would expect substance.

I like my Swiss cheese life. I have been fortunate to know and love many, many wonderful people. I will always miss those people, but I can't cry for them anymore. You can't miss what you haven't really lost.

I haven't lost him, but I'm not Matt's girl anymore. You can't cheat on the dead. Love is partially based on the instinctual urge to mate. It's gooey, corporeal, visceral stuff. It's blood and flesh and mingling fluids. Yes, that's right. I said mingling fluids. That's not to say you can't love the dead. I do love him, but it's not the same. I just can't live my life waiting for the wedding that never came, the life that died on the vine. I want to get out and try to find a piece of that visceral, gooey happiness again.

Watching "Practical Magic" last night, it struck me how much I have always related to the character Sally Owens. I saw myself in her long before Matt ever walked into my life. However, unlike Sally, I know that there's something else out there for me. He's the King of Swords. (Tarot geek, me? Nah!) He's the prince in a dream I had. He's the promise to be kept. Some days I am afraid that he's just the carrot dangled at me so that I'll keep going. Other days I'm just certain he's out there...

I'm not counting my eggs. I have no illusions that I need to grow a little more, let go a little more, and stretch a little more before we'll actually find each other.

So where to next? Well, I'm going to shred Matt's old robe. Then, I am going to work on coming to terms with the fact that I am an adult, and I get to figure out what that means to me. I'm going to figure out how to make sure that I'm taking care of my own needs so that I don't burn out as a new teacher. I am going to delve deeper into my spirituality, practice my energy work, and work on really getting a good barrier between me and the world that I can throw up at will. (I think this will help with the craziness of dealing with pre-teen angst.) And you know what? I am finally going to organize my CD collection so that it feels like all my stuff, not the stuff that was Matt's, the stuff that is mine, and the stuff that was ours. Oh yeah, and somewhere in the next couple months I'm buying a car.

It's going to be an interesting few months.
I wrote this Friday night (April 22nd) after a brief walk home. I didn't put it up until today because I wanted to give it a couple of days to see if anyone would respond to my last entry. I recieved two really wonderful and helpful responses - one on the last entry's message board and one by e-mail. They both helped a bit, and I am grateful to be around so many caring, reassuring people.

A brief moment of clarity )



August 2010



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