Hello Again

Sometimes, because of solitude or loneliness or a craving for familiarity, you let down your good-sense guard and open yourself up to feel again for something that you thought you had let go of.
Sometimes you allow it to feel good when you hear the need in his voice, even though history has shown that nothing will come of it.
Sometimes you allow yourself to feel his pain when he talks of his nightmares and his fears, sometimes you allow yourself to worry for him, to call to check on him, to tell him not to shut you out again.
Sometimes you let yourself hope a little, you let yourself taste and enjoy the fantasy that has made up 90% of your relationship. 
Sometimes you can admit to yourself that he may be that person for you even though he is deeply imperfect and might love you for all the wrong reasons, although they've always felt like the right ones.
Sometimes you let yourself remember that he is the person that carried you to confidence, to safety, to hope, and that in truth we saved each other from a curse of deep cynicism and shallowness.
Sometimes you savor the inside jokes, the nicknames, the stories that you only share with him, because after all this time they still are the most funny, the sweetest, and the best that you've ever had.

Ring Ring Glug Glug

Today was one of those days when I wanted to call all of my ex's that never totally got over me.

I'm aware this seems pretty self-indulgent, at best, cocky and narcissistic more likely.  I forgive myself for that today.

I've had a difficult couple of weeks.  Lots of things in upheaval, lots of stress, lots of loneliness. 
Today I wanted to hear that I'm lovable, I'm a catch, that I inspire him to be a better man, that I'm sexy and desirable and unforgettable.  Instead I found myself waiting for a call from a man who, while he may very well think those things, has his head caught elsewhere right now.  (Without getting too far into it, it's somewhere his head should be, not something sketchy and questionable.)  
Waiting for a call, no matter how much I end up accomplishing in the meantime, is quite possible my least favorite thing in the entire world. 

I feel a little proud of myself that I did restrain myself from calling any of my ex's.  Even the one that is totally over me and legitimately my friend.  The one I did talk to (he called me!) was just for a minute, and I didn't indulge in any ego-masturbation at all, even though he was practically begging for it.  (He said he called just to tell me I would have beautiful babies one day.  We're trying to be friends.)

Instead of any of these phone calls I worked out and am about to have a nice big mostly liquid dinner.  I think this is a healthy trade-off, at least on my mental health scale.  Cheers.

The Things Left Unsaid

I miss you.  I miss your calming presence, I miss your quiet.  I miss your comfortable shape, I miss you holding my hand.  I miss your soft voice and the way you curve your r's.  I miss the way you kiss me.  I miss your hands.  I miss your beard and I miss your clean-shaven.  I miss loving each other but not daring to say it.

Tomorrows

I've been thinking a lot about what's next.

I am ready for a transition to something more, but what that will look like is still very fluid and fuzzy. 

The most difficult part of any change, for me, is the way it changes my relationships with people.  In the last couple months I have been savoring moments with people a little more deeply, and a little sadly.  Part of this is because I am not talking about what might come next with more than a very close handful - really, those that would be affected directly.  Intentionally not discussing a topic does not come naturally to me.  If something is there, on my mind or imminently present in some way, you can usually bet I'll have some words on it.

In the last week my demons of insecurity of loneliness have been especially pungent.  Ironically, because I have been really busy with work and socially and have been around people more than in the average week.  I think maybe that's the crux of it - the more I feel fulfilled and stimulated socially and emotionally, the more difficult it seems it will be to decide to leave.

I am taking a day off today and so far I've done exactly what I wanted to do, which was nothing.  I slept a long time, and am more or less still in bed into the afternoon.  Letting my mind wander as I search birdcage veils and watch Friday Night Lights on the internet is what I needed; rather than putting off thinking about hard things or making hard decisions, it's actually letting my mind relax into itself.  My mother has told me on several occasions that she knows when I'm making a big decision, or figuring out a problem, because I won't talk about it and I'll go more or less radio silent for a time, and when I do surface I'll have some answers.

I found a moment of acceptance in my bed meditation today.  Wherever I go, be it down the road or a continent away, I will still be with myself.  My insecurities, my demons that I've been dancing with as long as I can remember, are likely to stay with me.  So let those not guide my path.  Let these decisions be made based on what I know about me and my abilities rather than what I fear.  

Antidote

I've discovered last week on a particularly heavy day that I've got the secret antidote to depression, to that feeling like the world is weighing on you, that you are truly alone and breathtakingly lonely:
The first step is to pull up with the dogs romping around the driveway.  Because as you try to stop crying when you open the door, the puppy with have his nose in your lap wrestling to get in closer while the old dog is shoving in just to get a little pat.
Next you want to catch a sight of Uncle carrying chickens one by one from the alcove outside the chicken house to inside the coop, as they had accidentally gotten locked out during the day and had already hunkered down for the night.  The chickens are going to be pretty bent out of shape and clucky, and Uncle's going to need to be cooing to and chatting with them as he does this for the full effect.
While he's reorganizing the chickens you're going to run around the other side of the house to herd the ducks, who had planted themselves in the middle of the lawn, towards the chicken house.  The wet grass will probably soak into your pants and maybe even your shoes but you won't mind because at this point you're already laughing.
When you get in the house and tell Auntie the funny sight it was, she going to laugh and pour you a glass of champagne, "just because".  You will want to stand there chatting with her for a while because she's started to cook dinner and the house is warm and it feels like it's full of love, and, there is champagne in your glass.
This should just about do the trick, but there are a few last things that can really solidify the turnaround.  Realizing jeans that used to be quite snug are now loose is a good one, helping Aunt peel garlic and then watching her make and explain carbonara are big boosters, and then of course convincing Uncle to downlowd a song to play really loud and sing along to together in the kitchen is really a cherry on top of my home remedy.
I recommend this method of mood-turnaround for anybody, as often as you can get any of it.  There are no negative side effects, other than muddy shoes, fully belly, and happier heart.  

Blow Away

Does anybody else know this ache of loneliness? This feeling that resonates from my gut through my torso into a weight in my chest and my arms - is it isolated to just me or does somebody else feel this too?

It comes on like a sudden breeze. Or the bigger wave after a series of small ones, the one that gets the bottom of your pants wet, your pants that you were sure were rolled up high enough. It's not totally unexpected, the conditions are there, but it could have not happened without any note of it's absence.

I know I am not the only lonely one, and I know that I am not alone. I have opened up and left myself vulnerable, I haven't been sleeping and I've been thinking about not sleeping alone. Perhaps the ache slips in because I let my defenses down so my body has to remind my heart to button up again.

Perhaps, though, the ache is just a reminder that loneliness can be damned - it will always pass. May it be reminder that whatever sadness and solitude pass through my heart is dwarfed by the shadow of the grief I survive.

The breeze dies down, the wave rolls back. And just like that I breathe deeply and enjoy the quiet.