My Writing. My World.
I haven’t felt safe for a while now.
I’m not referring to my physical safety — I don’t fear for my personal safety in any way. I have a roof over my head, I feel perfectly safe in my home, in my small town, and going for a walk around the park in my neighborhood.
But unfortunately, my physical safety is where any safeness I feel ends.
Sunday mornings are for coffee and daydreams.
The kind that have me wondering about slow love.
Knowing glances over our steaming mugs,
Me baking scones for you, and you feeding me a bite of your bacon…
I wonder what you will look like,
Although that’s never mattered much to me.
I care so much more about what your soul feels like,
And how connected we are…beyond the day-to-day activities.
Her battlefield was soft and cozy,
Pillows and blankets strewn about,
Awaiting each and every soul who needed comfort…
Most often, her own.
I am done.
Done with the not-enoughness.
Done with trying.
Done with the hurt.
Done with all the tears.
Done with the heart-searing pain.
Are we almost there, love?
Because I need us to be almost there.
Probably not as much as you need it, though.
My heart is heavy and hurty and collapsing under the weight of all we’ve been carrying.
But I will not let it collapse completely.
There comes a point in life when the loss can seem just too unbearable.
A teenager who loses their group of best friends to the social wars of high school, a dear friend to suicide, and perhaps a bit of themselves while navigating the world at large…and then a fucking pandemic on top of it all.
She took one hesitant step,
And then one more…
Wishing she felt more sure of the path before her,
But trusting her heart to show her the way.
It had not led her astray so far.
But never her own.
I felt you all week.
Your pain. Your anguish. Your heartbreak. Your loneliness. Your desperation. Your hopelessness. Your disconnection. Your love. Your need.
I felt it all.
Because my heart is your heart. I feel what you feel. And as I am here for you, I also know that I need to hold you from within the boundaries that my giant empath heart needs.
A few years ago, I wrote an article about the things I love about men. It was at the height of the #MeToo movement and as a collective, we were fired up. We women were all speaking our truths…as individuals and as a group of women who were raising our hands and saying, “Fuck…me too.”
Her solitary heart.
She is bigger in her capacity to love than most other hearts she knows.
She can love those who hurt her. Especially those hearts, because she can feel their pain, pulsating through their battle-weary bodies.
She can love those who wish her ill. Because she knows it comes from a place of their own hurt and they are still doing only the best that they can in this moment. In every moment.
Please stay.
I know I’ve been focused on my everyday heartbreak, but suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore.
You are all that matters.
You are all I want.
I want you in my life.
I need you in my life.
I couldn’t bear to lose you now.
