Inside she knows that it's inevitable. Time could stand still, and yet there would still be a conclusion waiting in the wings. Fate is fickle that way. One day it seems like it's on your side, and the next it never had your best interests at heart.
She often wonders why it seems that fate is always against her. Things that work out for other people, never work out for her. And like the cheese, she stands alone. Always watching from the sidelines, always wishing for something more.
She wonders where the last ten years have gone, and worries that she'll lose the next ten in the exact same way. Waiting for something that doesn't exist except in the pages of all the books she's read. Imaginary people with imaginary lives that are so much more fulfilling than hers.
She knows that in every woman, there is a weakness in the wanting to be saved. She's quite familiar with that small kernel of hope; the light that shines despite the darkness. She tries to warm herself with that glow. With thoughts that someday she'll look behind her with the wisdom of a different age and know that the cost of a little while was worth the price of the bigger picture. But right now she feels the loss like a tear to her soul, and everything inside her bleeds out to run red across her world.
It doesn't make living in this moment any easier. It doesn't make the pain go away to know that eventually it will pass. She gets up each day hoping to make it through just one more day. To find that conclusion she's so ready to make. To say goodbye for what will be the very last time to all of her mistakes, both big and small. And because she's always believed in second chances, she'll give herself one more.
In a New York Minute
I have absolutely nothing to write about. Or at least I actually do, but just don't have the wherewithal to constructively put it down for all of you tonight.
However in my attempt to re-commit myself to NWTLO, I'm here. Because darn it, I do remember how to do this blog thing. I really, really do ...
Now if only I had something more spectacular to write about other than my spaghetti measuring tool find, signing KC up for little league and that unfortunate incident with the, at the, when I was ... Well, let's just say that that one will keep.
(Oh and yeah ... I am incredibly jealous that my father and my nephew both got to see the fabulous Billy Joel concert (that I was supposed to go to) last night! From all accounts, it was one hell of a show!)
However in my attempt to re-commit myself to NWTLO, I'm here. Because darn it, I do remember how to do this blog thing. I really, really do ...
Now if only I had something more spectacular to write about other than my spaghetti measuring tool find, signing KC up for little league and that unfortunate incident with the, at the, when I was ... Well, let's just say that that one will keep.
(Oh and yeah ... I am incredibly jealous that my father and my nephew both got to see the fabulous Billy Joel concert (that I was supposed to go to) last night! From all accounts, it was one hell of a show!)
From the Free Throw Line
Considering what time I have to get up in the morning to go walking with Bren, I should be a smart girl and go to bed. Only problem is, I'm not tired. Not in the least. Instead I think I'm still on a laughing high from having had so much fun tonight. And it was good medicine, along with a good learning experience ...
I learned that I should never make any comments out loud about basketball - a sport that I know absolutely nothing about except for the fact that there's a ball, a net and aside from the Harlem Globetrotter's not much call for spinning the ball on your fingertip - because when it comes to basketball, I know even less than I know about football. And the only thing I really know about football is to occasionally shout obscenities at the TV screen, suggest that now would be a good time for a little play action, and mock the refs with some of my own handcrafted hand gestures.
So I guess the most important thing I learned about basketball is that the people behind the tables on the sidelines are NOT judges. Unlike the Olympics or other sports where the judges ALWAYS sit behind a little table off to the side, these people who sit there during a basketball game are in no way contributing to the scoring of said game. I mean like, who knew?
Okay ... I'm kidding just a little bit. I really knew that they weren't judges but was just saying so to amuse those around me. And I think it worked ... I mean really, if you could have seen the looks on their faces, only one word would have described it ... Absolutely priceless.
I learned that I should never make any comments out loud about basketball - a sport that I know absolutely nothing about except for the fact that there's a ball, a net and aside from the Harlem Globetrotter's not much call for spinning the ball on your fingertip - because when it comes to basketball, I know even less than I know about football. And the only thing I really know about football is to occasionally shout obscenities at the TV screen, suggest that now would be a good time for a little play action, and mock the refs with some of my own handcrafted hand gestures.
So I guess the most important thing I learned about basketball is that the people behind the tables on the sidelines are NOT judges. Unlike the Olympics or other sports where the judges ALWAYS sit behind a little table off to the side, these people who sit there during a basketball game are in no way contributing to the scoring of said game. I mean like, who knew?
Okay ... I'm kidding just a little bit. I really knew that they weren't judges but was just saying so to amuse those around me. And I think it worked ... I mean really, if you could have seen the looks on their faces, only one word would have described it ... Absolutely priceless.
Remembering Blue Mountain
In the half light, the trees stand like silent white ghosts. Arms extended, reaching across the distance from one lawn to another. Inside it seems all that much brighter, sitting beneath a fluorescent light as darkness descends outside, hiding the gentle sway of the wind through barren branches.
If I could close my eyes and be anywhere else in this moment, I'd be sitting on the edge of a cold mountain lake, my feet half buried by sand and water as a lemon moon rose slowly in the sky. I'd lean back, my hands digging deep into the softness of the sand and fill my eyes with an ocean of stars, content to be alone with only the sound of the lapping water beside me and the distant crackling of a fire that waits with both my family and my friends for my return.
If I could close my eyes and be anywhere else in this moment, I'd be sitting on the edge of a cold mountain lake, my feet half buried by sand and water as a lemon moon rose slowly in the sky. I'd lean back, my hands digging deep into the softness of the sand and fill my eyes with an ocean of stars, content to be alone with only the sound of the lapping water beside me and the distant crackling of a fire that waits with both my family and my friends for my return.
The Story of Stacey
Decisions are made everyday in the realm of realistic possibilities. But some decisions are made, not with practicality in mind, but rather with the intense longing of our hearts. Sometimes the things we choose are chosen just for their "What if" factor ...
But what if's can also morph into shouldn't have dones. The things we realize later on that had we given it just a bit more thought, we would have known that the decision we made, wasn't the right decision at the time. And that's when the trouble begins. That persistent nagging voice that bleats like a lost lamb in the background, begging to know how it is we plan to fix whatever it is that we have done.
And the horrible truth is that once done, easy to fix isn't even easy to say. The real world doesn't stop to give you time to deal with a new dilemma. No matter the status of your heart, there will always be bills to pay, jobs to go to, and people who seem to trip you up more often than offer to lend a hand. Can it be any wonder that so many of us succumb when introduced to such sadness?
At first you don't even notice that you're laughing less or that something that you used to enjoy doing on a daily basis (blogging, for example) is something you haven't done in weeks. Or in months.
You can't sleep. You sleep too much. You cry. And you don't just cry some of the time. You cry all of the time. And you wonder while you're crying why it is you can't seem to figure out where the shut off valve is.
And everything seems hopeless, because it is hopeless. And you care so much that somewhere deep inside you, you just don't care at all.
Depression is the constant pulling down, the pulling in, the giving up, the letting go of everything. It is easing into pain, and foregoing all pleasure. It is living a life you were never meant to lead, and abandoning the future. And it is a choice.
A choice to go willingly into the blackness of despair. To sink to the bottom and make no attempts to swim for the top. To drown with the sorrow of knowing that things did not go as you planned, that life tossed you a few curve balls, that you were struck out before you even had a chance at bat.
It is allowing other people to make you feel that you are insignificant and small. That despite how hard you try to be your very best, you will never be good enough in their eyes. That you are unworthy of being loved. That you are nothing more than nothing. That you are the problem that makes everything too difficult to solve.
And when you feel that kind of pain, it's hard to pull yourself out and not keep taking it all back in. You forgot that true strength is not being able to withstand the break, but being able to live through the bending.
And this is what I know. I know that things aren't going to get any easier over night. I know that right now, I have to be open for change and new possibilities and willing to let go of the odds and ends that don't fit into my story line. Because this is my life, and only I can be its author ...
"What if I did this and it could all work out?"
But what if's can also morph into shouldn't have dones. The things we realize later on that had we given it just a bit more thought, we would have known that the decision we made, wasn't the right decision at the time. And that's when the trouble begins. That persistent nagging voice that bleats like a lost lamb in the background, begging to know how it is we plan to fix whatever it is that we have done.
And the horrible truth is that once done, easy to fix isn't even easy to say. The real world doesn't stop to give you time to deal with a new dilemma. No matter the status of your heart, there will always be bills to pay, jobs to go to, and people who seem to trip you up more often than offer to lend a hand. Can it be any wonder that so many of us succumb when introduced to such sadness?
At first you don't even notice that you're laughing less or that something that you used to enjoy doing on a daily basis (blogging, for example) is something you haven't done in weeks. Or in months.
You can't sleep. You sleep too much. You cry. And you don't just cry some of the time. You cry all of the time. And you wonder while you're crying why it is you can't seem to figure out where the shut off valve is.
And everything seems hopeless, because it is hopeless. And you care so much that somewhere deep inside you, you just don't care at all.
Depression is the constant pulling down, the pulling in, the giving up, the letting go of everything. It is easing into pain, and foregoing all pleasure. It is living a life you were never meant to lead, and abandoning the future. And it is a choice.
A choice to go willingly into the blackness of despair. To sink to the bottom and make no attempts to swim for the top. To drown with the sorrow of knowing that things did not go as you planned, that life tossed you a few curve balls, that you were struck out before you even had a chance at bat.
It is allowing other people to make you feel that you are insignificant and small. That despite how hard you try to be your very best, you will never be good enough in their eyes. That you are unworthy of being loved. That you are nothing more than nothing. That you are the problem that makes everything too difficult to solve.
And when you feel that kind of pain, it's hard to pull yourself out and not keep taking it all back in. You forgot that true strength is not being able to withstand the break, but being able to live through the bending.
And this is what I know. I know that things aren't going to get any easier over night. I know that right now, I have to be open for change and new possibilities and willing to let go of the odds and ends that don't fit into my story line. Because this is my life, and only I can be its author ...
Speaking the Truth
I am writing but not to post anything of consequence, though I have succeeded in doing just that tonight. Four months of words on paper whose ink has yet to dry. And I sit here slightly dazed of what I've had to say. Truth, even coming from my own mouth is hard to swallow. Truth like light diminished, still capable of shining with the smallest of refractions.
And I am speaking to my own truths now. Speaking in order to hear myself. The voice I've ignored because I thought it would be easier not to hear. But the truth is I never stopped listening.
And I am speaking to my own truths now. Speaking in order to hear myself. The voice I've ignored because I thought it would be easier not to hear. But the truth is I never stopped listening.
Lies, like water can evaporate, but both eventually return in another form. In the punishment of rain; in the silence of snow.
- The Language of Good-Bye
Maribeth Fischer
Trying to Survive
She feels the shivers down her back in the straightness of her spine. Bending by degrees she refuses to give in to the break. She keeps thinking that if she could just find some magical new way of looking at things, she'll be able to abide.
Four Winds In Different Directions
I went for a walk tonight to clear my head. But my head wouldn't clear and my face felt as if Jack Frost himself were pressing his hands against my cheeks. Cold and angry I spurred myself onward, listening to the sound of my feet moving against the pavement with a steady stride. And I thought to myself that I remembered doing this before. Walking in the darkness to get away from something, or someone, just long enough to give myself time to think or room to breathe.
And now sitting in this cold kitchen, the only thought I have to think at this very moment is about how tired I am, and not just exhausted in a way that requires sleep. But sleep is what I need right now ...
And now sitting in this cold kitchen, the only thought I have to think at this very moment is about how tired I am, and not just exhausted in a way that requires sleep. But sleep is what I need right now ...
