i write because it’s the one thing i feel i really know how to do.

So, this is it. The precipice of change. I have a ramble again tonight. These, literally, are the thoughts…from underneath the couch.

endings…

1. Something I have truly believed in. A love that I knew, and was like home to me, has ended. Well, not the love as such, but the relationship attached to it. It makes my heart ache for the people involved. It’s life and it happens but they both do not deserve any pain. They deserve no pain whatsoever. My little heart lurches for them.

sadness…

2. I had a sad day. The type of day where I want noone to come near me but, feel absolutely swallowed at the same time. I guess, in some respects, it’s okay to have sad days. Today was just a day, and it’s behind me now. I’m hoping for smiles tomorrow. I choose to see it as it is, and nothing more. This sad will pass.

home…

3. Home. The pictures are off the walls, the packing begins in earnest. The administrative side of things rolls into motion. I feel strangely bereft. This was the home where we stood on our own, this was the home that was truly ours alone. We made it as we wanted to. For the first time, truly, I felt this was our true home. The one we created and where we started to really become the family we were always working towards. Our bubble expanded and this is where we stood, confidently. This was our home. And now, we move on. Yes, we move on to different and new things. Things for comfort, possibilities to create again. We move on, we grow up, we are propelled forward. But, I’m still heartsore. A little scared by the precipice of change before us.

possibility…

4. And in that fear, I guess, there lies discovery. The possibility of new beginnings. it’s so funny, really. People look at me askew a little. Why the big deal about where you lay your head at night? The truth is, home is one of the most important things in the world to me. It wasn’t always that way. Before, I was happy to be vaguely nomadic, solaced by new experiences or whatever came my way. But, somewhere along the line, probably when I became a mom, possibly beforehand, I felt a keening need to make a home for my heart, and not just my head. Home to me is not just a place to lay that head. Home to me is akin to skin, and I think I get that from my parents. Their home was never stagnant, always busy, filled with love and piles and piles of paper. Heh. My siblings will laugh at that line. Now that I can’t ever go home again, can’t see my parents again, that need to be home, to make a home, to live within a true home, is evermore present and yearning. Maybe I’m just growing up, even  though my eternally giggling Peter Pan complex laughs at me and wonders what on earth I am up to. Maybe I just have to grow up. After the bereft feeling, I feel a sense of new beginnings.

gestating (no, not me)…

5. I feel compelled to write about how other people are feeling now. Right now, they’re feeling the same way. That same strange mixture of wonder and worry. But that’s all I’m saying right now about other people’s feelings. I just know that I’m not alone in this space. I think it’s light green and kind of like bubble wrap. This week is like suspended animation. Like it’s gestating a new beginning. I guess it is. This paragraph has more codespeak in it than only very select friends of mine will understand.

i am still i…

6. It’s not all sad or weird though. I’m still here, still strong in my fluffy slippers and hard as nails brutal attack face.

stuck in my head…

7. I have Jesse – Joshua Kadison stuck in my head.

sleeping…

8. That sleeping thing? The sleeping fairies seem to have gone visiting to a foreign land again. I think this will settle soon enough. It better or I’m taking the fairies’ passports away the next time I see them.

i rate it more highly than smoking…

9. Sometimes I just need to write things down to stop the internal swirling and then I get to rest again. I write, because it’s the one thing I really feel I know how to do.

now there’s an old line

10. My internet connection is sucking ridiculously right now. It’s more up and down than panties on prom night.

leaving behind…

11. Oh, I almost forgot. There is one thing I get to leave behind now. In the transition from the-home-where-we-started-and-began-again-and-started-and-began-again-and-started-and-began-again, when we moved here, I came into this home with a broken heart. I get to leave every piece of that pain behind.

love…

12. This home is where my heart healed. This home is where I found real love. The love that sits with me on sad days, and dances with me in the sunshine. This home is where my heart healed. This home is where my heart came home.

2 thoughts on “i write because it’s the one thing i feel i really know how to do.

  1. I must say you have a unique style of writing. My first impression is that you are one of those people with lots to offer, yet you may be the only one who knows you who doesn’t truly know that for sure. If you did know that, many of the sentiments in your blogs would not appear there. Please don’t be offended, as I simply and empathetically hope you eventually find yourself outside of your writing.

  2. Well, all the changes of late and moving house may well have scared the sleep faeries away, I’m sure they’ll be back when you’ve unpacked and settled again.
    😀

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