one
I've noticed this break-up is different than those in the past and it reflects the age and stage I am in life.
I feel fear burbling through my veins, making my mouth tremble and tears well. Fear of everything. The future, the past, not being grounded, finances, death, life, love, day to day to day to day grind...
My alone-ness startles me. It's not in the quiet of the night or the hustle of the morning, but during the day, I realize, there is no one to text to say hi, there will be no one to tell later on, what a bitch so and so was today, there is no one in the bleachers cheering me on anymore.
Years ago, it seems my hormones wrote the scenes, dramatically. It was at night, when I grew restless and tossed and turned, not in fear, but physical ache, that I think I read as an aching soul, but t'was not.
My hormones are quiet, sleeping, makes me a little sad. On top of all the other sadness. I think they went to sleep after the assault and they don't rouse themselves unless I feel very very safe and happy. Which is ok, just so radically different than my younger self's life.
So this time, it is my soul, curled up protectively, waiting it out.
I've noticed something else within myself that I have to guard against. I'm shuttering and boarding up most of my feelings, most of the day, so I can function at work, as a pleasant hard working person. I usually cry on the way home, in the car. More as a release, opening up the dam, than out of true grief.
That's why I wanted to post something tonight, I have to practice expressing my feelings again. They look so raw and ugly to me, on this page. I hope I can sculpt them into something else. Eventually.
I feel fear burbling through my veins, making my mouth tremble and tears well. Fear of everything. The future, the past, not being grounded, finances, death, life, love, day to day to day to day grind...
My alone-ness startles me. It's not in the quiet of the night or the hustle of the morning, but during the day, I realize, there is no one to text to say hi, there will be no one to tell later on, what a bitch so and so was today, there is no one in the bleachers cheering me on anymore.
Years ago, it seems my hormones wrote the scenes, dramatically. It was at night, when I grew restless and tossed and turned, not in fear, but physical ache, that I think I read as an aching soul, but t'was not.
My hormones are quiet, sleeping, makes me a little sad. On top of all the other sadness. I think they went to sleep after the assault and they don't rouse themselves unless I feel very very safe and happy. Which is ok, just so radically different than my younger self's life.
So this time, it is my soul, curled up protectively, waiting it out.
I've noticed something else within myself that I have to guard against. I'm shuttering and boarding up most of my feelings, most of the day, so I can function at work, as a pleasant hard working person. I usually cry on the way home, in the car. More as a release, opening up the dam, than out of true grief.
That's why I wanted to post something tonight, I have to practice expressing my feelings again. They look so raw and ugly to me, on this page. I hope I can sculpt them into something else. Eventually.