seeking-sanity

[seeking-sanity]

Forgetting to remember is probably the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.

I used to dread Christmas in my marriage, because- well- it was a terrible marriage full of one-sided love and reciprocated with greed and resentment. I looked forward to spoiling the kids as much as I could, and over the decade learned how to pretty delicately dodge the arguments from their father that would inevitably result in a general impression that he would just prefer they were always lacking- as he was...

And then he really ruined Christmas- with his less than festive attempt to decorate his semi in the truck parking- with his lifeless body... and the subsequent 911 call, CPR, and CCU stay- followed by the psych stay, the non-compliance with ANYTHING that might make him "healthy" to be around his kids. His obsession with committing to making me miserable, and in fear the rest of my life-

and then the worry- after I finally was free- of whether he would just do it anyways- completely destroy the kids. They were the only thing worth having that relationship for... they deserved so much more... from both of us if i'm being honest....

But Christmas- it never felt safe, or the same since. Even in healing, in investing in myself and a new life- Christmas was always just malicious compliance and a little bit habit, the excitement in the moments was fleeting- and the feeling of family had long since been gone.

This year, I did a thing- ventured down the entire coast, to spend the holidays with not my family. I had anxiety, feelings of stress, discomfort in a super general way... this is the first year I've missed a holiday with my mom, my nephew.

So we get here, way later at night than planned- settle into meeting strangers at midnight- and sleeping in their home.

This week has been eye opening for me. To see how people can openly accept a stranger into their home- love them- simply for the smile they brought with them. And maybe it isn't loving ME, but extended their love to me. This week has been sneaking trips for Christmas presents- getting excited playing the mole for gift ideas and keeping everyone's secrets. Cooking and sharing stories, taking boat rides and laughing- feeling like its just a vacation- with people who have been expecting me the whole time.

Yes, we are strangers in understanding- but just outright open acceptance- and love.

I forgot to remember how much anxiety this week brings me. i forgot to relive the trauma, the phone call, the moments in still frame- crystal clear and unfolding as if it were right now.

maybe this is what healing looks like... its not forgetting- or feeling any different about the meories when i think about them... its jsut forgetting to give them space. its forgetting to allow what doesn't matter- to matter- despite your best efforts to hold the wall, and protect yourself.

sometimes healing- is simply risking being allowed to be okay...

[seeking-sanity]

Climbing the Whites...

I didn't seek out this journey, instead, it sought me with a soul that truly speaks to my own.

I didn't ever think about it, never desired to do it. No one had ever been like "hey lets do this super long walk up a tall mountain, to turn around and come back down. Just to say we did."

The first trip was ignorant compliance. Of course I CAN do it, lets just do it. The first trip was an experience in understanding. It was a coaching, coaxing my body to take one more step. It was a thousand tiny triumphs of not quitting. It was reaching the top to see the sights only a fraction of the world will ever venture to try... it was succeeding on sheer determination alone. It was a stubborn fit of not being willing to quit. I could do this! I did do it...

And the journey up was the one I needed. To understand the perfection in the moment. It was the lessons on the trip up that allowed the beauty of understanding on the hike down.

Making it to the first summit was the confidence I needed to attempt the second. The hike down unlocked this innate desire to take all the steps, to appreciate the accomplishment in each one...

The hike down was fueled by adrenaline, and love. Not only had I done it, I had someone beside me that encourged me the entire way. The reality in that moment was almost more breathtaking than the views from the top.

My dad worries, reminds me every time he asks about an adventure- that one wrong step could change your whole life out there. Reminds me that I am not 20, even if I feel like it. Reminds me that there is great risk in setting out.

And that reminder is heard, but over powered by the reality that- one right step changed my life forever. A thousand steps changed it for the better. That with this risk, immense opportunity lies just beyond the fear.

My body is capable of so much more than I give it credit for. My mind is stronger than the fear, in this- and so much more. My heart beats hard within my chest, but it doesn't explode as much as I may fear it will. In all things, these steps have shown me faith.

And then I reflect on the reality, that I hike with someone who abandons his fears at the trail head with the car. That pushes to a second peak because I want to. That encourages me when I start giving in to the physical demands I doubt myself in.

We climbed Mt. Moosilauke first. It wasn't easy, going from a sedentary life- to hiking almost 5k into the clouds. It wasn't easy pushing uphill for hours, for something I wasn't even determined to see.

Mt. Osceola and the East Osceola were the second trip. I had a triple peak loop I had wanted to do, but weather had us skip a weekend, and for whatever reason, we chose a different range the following weekend instead of Mt. Willey, Feild, and Tom. We will do that loop soon, but his better judgement on the demands of ascending and descending and continuing to climb made Osceola a better choice for sure.

Osceola was an easy hike, maybe because of the trail- or maybe because I had a thirst for it now. I wanted to get to the top, and I wanted to see both peaks. I wanted to climb the "chimney" I had read about in the trail guide. I hiked this one for me.

As we ascended that first peak back in May- I had a rollercoaster of emotions on the ascent. Did I want to do this? Was this something he could do without me? Maybe it would be better if he hiked, and I layed low and we enjoyed the evenings relaxing talking about our day. I was torn at times, worried he might abandon his love of hiking if I didn't want to do it too. I battled with my understanding that couples need common interests and seperate ones, balance of time. We have differences and similarities that until now- have been a perfect distribution of time. I spent about an hour of the first hike nauseated, hot, tired, and unmotivated to continue. He spoke up just in time to remind me he was there, I could do it, and we could quit- every time.

The second hike I was more prepared, I was motivated. I was excited. I felt like we were undertaking this adventure together. Every step was energized by the progress of the step before. Water crossings, rock scrambles, to a peak that left us misted in gusts of clouds as the blew in with the fog from the valley. Sitting on top of the second mountain top, I knew- there was no limit to the adventures I would talk with this man. There is no step I won't take.

We sat on top, shoes off- enjoying a snack and sharing a monster. Discussed the second peak. There is only 1 trail to east peak, and one muh harder ascent from the opposite side. There is no view from east peak, only a rock cairn- there is no external motivator to reach this peak, except the right to say you did it.

He hikes for the views. I am hiking for something else. Views, time together, exercise. But mostly the journey.

The realization that every step changes your life. Good or bad. A small miss step teaches you to be more aware, choose more wisely. Each calculated step, every justified effort. But in that, there is this internal journey. Learning to believe in myself. Learning to trust myself, allowing me to rely on my strength, and seeing the room I have yet to grow.

Every step is soaking in the earth below me, the history of a thousand hikers and their stories. Through hikers and the reasons they hike, all walked into the earth below us. All the answers they sought are out there too. I find peace in the sweat, I find happiness in the struggles. I leave demons on the trail to be ground into the mud too.

Sometimes, my mind brings up old clips. Black and white moments I guess my psyche held onto so I could see the replay and recongize what to do better. In the mountains, those replays are stipped off the reels. The tape is pulled out, the frames are exposed to daylight, and I mourn for the slightest moment, ever holding on to them.

Every mile leaves a hundred broken memories to rest. Every heartache becomes an trail marker as to how I am here today. If I had done things differently, this journey would be so different- if it even occurred at all.

East Osceola may be my favorite hike yet. Because we did it. After hiking a whole other mountain. We climbed down the "slide" we weren't experienced with. We ascended a second mountain, sat in a wooded area around a pile of rocks, and appreciated the companionship of some other hikers that also was appricating the underwhelming pile of rocks on top of a mountain in the middle of the forest.

We hiked back down, and climbed the chimney. And here is where my heart screamed. It was a vertical climb, 20+ feet. No spikes, no ropes, no ladders. Just sheer rock, and a few sturdy roots. We stood at the bottom for a few moments. Strategizing a plan. Do we scramble back up the slide? That was intimidating, but seemed doable- I mean, we made it DOWN without an issue. UP may be harder, but we probably could do it. OR, tackle the obstacle before us. And as we stood at the base, and tried to map a route of foot holds- we decided to go. He went first, which I had mixed feelings about.

Crazy to think that in a moment of a nice relaxing hike, my rationale for who took the lead was strategic to who could get help if there was a catastrophe, and how that would look...

He scaled the rocks slowly, methodically, without much anxiety once he started. As I started to climb, I realized I was more in my head about catastrophe than I was in success. Without asking, without even seeing my face- he simply reminded me to take my time, think about every move, and it wasn't too far to get to the top. He couldn't see me, but he knew- I needed every syllable of a reminder.

Not because I couldn't do it. Not because it was too hard, or too scary- but because I do need reminded that I need to slow down. I did need the vote of confidence, and the reminder that just beyond what I thought I was incapable of, is a man that believes in ME.

We managed to get up the chimney, without any real struggle. We finshed climbing back up to osceola, making it a 3 summit day- lingered for a while before exiting back to the trail head.

We spent 11 hours out that day. Battling bugs, humidity, heat, water crossings, rock scrambles, vertical climbs, and 2 mountains of over 4k elevation. WE did that after driving up after work, car camping in the parking lot, and enjoying a cold breakfast with the ambitious early morning bugs.

We endured the hard things of the day, without ever losing patience or lashing out at the other. There is no room for anything but beauty and bonding on those trails.

He hikes for the views, but the best view I have seen is his heart.

[seeking-sanity]

Embracing the quiet

Its hard to step back, and enjoy the silence. It has always been the precursor to the chaos. I learned to live in chaos, thrive in it.

I can't pinpoint when that transition occurred for me, just one day quiet stopped being tranquil, and instead became the overwhelming feeling of doom.

I have started finding silence peaceful, serene.

Sometimes I lay in bed, arms wrapped around me with soft breath moving just enough air to be noticable... I close my eyes and unwind the thoughts in my head...

One day I will speak them.

I lay there, safe. Lost in thousands of thoughts. Love, happiness, thankful, regrets... all blended in to one masterful feeling of being exactly where I belong.

I regret ever giving so much of myself to people that never gave anything to me. I regret being broken at all, he deserved so much more... I regret every time I stayed with someone less deserving, because they are moments I could have been living so much differently...

I am happy, as I am finding security in finding my voice... he meets my expressions with caring concern and addresses issues as they arise. I am happy that I am learning to allow myself to sink into safety with him, letting the hypervigilant walls fall away entirely...

for the first time in my life, I feel loved. I feel like there is more than just a "settling" between us. I am met with caring concern, anticipation of my over confidence, and accommodations to my insecurities.

I am thankful. for his patience, his love, his soft strength and solid commitment. He, without even thinking about it, adapted his lifestyle to eliminate as many opportunities for my insecurity to root... he makes me feel missed, and wanted, and cared for, and loved.

he goes beyond that, and extends his love for me to the people around me. he embraces the moments he would likely avoid otherwise, he could easily avoid- but makes an effort to find a path that merges together...

he does the little things, consistently. he accepts my inability to fold socks, or put away towels. he picks up where I fall short, completes the mundane tasks I whole heartedly avoid. he opens the jars, reaches the top shelf, or the bottom shelf. he organizes the clutter and expects no credit...

he doesn't know that I am forever keeping score. giving credit. wishing that it wasn't drilled in my head so hard that my emotions were a burden, so i could tell him how impactful he is; everyday.

I wish that I could ramble the thousands of reasons why, replay the moments that stand out the most- until he is immersed in the understanding of this love, and what it means to me.

I lay silent instead. Speaking the deepest secrets of my soul- to his heart in constellations. Hoping his heart hears the accolades of this love...

I let the thoughts run wild, until I exhaust myself trying to pace my own heartbeat... I succumb to the silence, and find the most peaceful sleep I have ever known.

[seeking-sanity]

Climbing Mountains

I never imagined myself hiking a mountain. 4,802ft at that... I never had a desire to spend time walking up a hill to walk back down, just to say I did it.

What I also never knew, was how much that hike would change my self reflection.

I have struggled with so many esteem issues. Weight being my "best handled", self-acceptance, self-worth, personal value, capability... being fully transparent, I didn't think I would ACTUALLY do it. I've never done more than hills, and really avoided those at most costs. I wanted to do this, because I was challenged. I wanted to do this because I said I could... to someone willing to hold me accountable.

I woke up far too early on a Saturday, completely ill-prepared... Ate the wrong breakfast [and regretted it for the rest of the day], drank too much water too fast, and wanted to quit on myself more times than I would ever admit...

I heard a man that has patiently showed me a kind love, a caring compassion, a friendly banter; tell me I could do it. Over and over. "just keep taking the next step, you got this." he was probably sick of saying it... I heard the sincerity in his voice at the trail head as he promised me we could turn back at any point...

we had driven 4 hours in moderately annoying traffic. I insisted on blasting a mystery playlist a zune I had incidently recently found and charged. I sang in my out of tune, doesn't really know all the proper lyrics and makes em up as I go, top of my lungs, 2000s angst voice.

He laughed at me and gently persuaded the skip button through the most annoying songs of our youth. Limewire downloads that digitally decayed over time, only one skip away from finding a vintage CD collection and a discman with the OG skull candy...

I insisted on bug spray, pushing the "i got this" confidence to the max with the deet 40 and fly spray... he spent the entire day helping me acheive goals I didn't know I had...

We got to the top of the moutain in 5 hours, the goal was 4 up 4 down. We made our day in 8. With breaks, and pictures, and a backpackers lunch at the summit. We shared a few moments with other hikers along the way... but what I didn't realize, until now- weeks later... we shared something more- trust.

I trusted this man with my life. Literally. I trusted him to accept my limits, push my boundaries, and accepted his encouragement when I had nothing left in me. We stood together on a 4802ft mountain, but it was the absolute top of the world.

It has been my experience, that people don't invest in people like me. People don't put effort into climbing walls, breaking gates, tending gardens filled with every sign of neglect. It would have been easy for him to quit on me too. To turn back, to act in any manner other than the gentle strength he shared to get me there.

It has been my experience that people I would do anything for, will do so little in return. I have raised children I didn't bear, paid bills that were not my own, funded vacations to places I didn't want to see. I have always only ever gotten what was easy. Effort, rarely at best.

This man... this kind, sweet man- has only ever gotten the most authentic me. the "take me as I am", the hardened shell after abusive heartbreak. He has gotten the reaction to assumed intention, the lash out of familiar behaviors even though he didn't follow the trend, he has gotten the "i'm not running, but I'm not trying either" version of me most of the time...

Not to say I'm reckless. Or that I disregard his feelings. I just- was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to fall into fitting the same mold...

This man proves daily, in a thousand consistent ways, he is different.

I don't beg for attention, I don't lack it either. I don't exhaust myself looking for activities, he makes an effort to plan dates too. I don't search for a connection constantly, insecure that it will cease to exist at any time... it just blooms. Like mountain laurel on the appalachain, beautiful. simple. strong, well rooted.

I climbed a mountain, with a man I wanted to spend time with. What I found on top of that mountain, was the insight to a man that was finding ways to show me everything beautiful. To share the moment with me.

The top of that mountain was a moment I hadn't even thought about, taking credit for the work it took to get there. The "don't quit" that was said so gently, screaming echos in my soul... he believed in me, for what seemed impossible to me.

We hiked back down that mountain, my whole body felt different. I appreciated it more. I was capable. I am strong. I walked beside the man that is making me believe I am as beautiful as the sun rising over the peaks... I hiked down that mountain with a confidence, a feeling of overwhelming success. Everyone else has quit on me, fell short of being willing to cheer me on for one more step... I conquer a mountain with a man that didn't quit for either of us. He never lost patience, never lost confidence in making it to the top- and back down- and out. My steps were so much lighter. Recognizing the gift that hike was. For me, believing I could do it. For me, excited to take on more. For me, seeing a man stand beyond every trauma response pre-determined thought process... For me, making it beyond the self imposed limits, walls- that I had so carefully lived behind...

I walked down that mountain leaving behind every insecurity I had let the past burden me with. I walked down the mountain next to a man willing to stand beside me for ALL the mountains, all the ups and downs. A man willing to believe in me, even when it is hard. That keeps rooting for us, when I'm letting me drag us down. That is willing to take ONE.MORE.STEP with me.

We left that trail head, and sat in the car... exhausted. 11.41 miles of pushing my body and mind to its self imposed limits. I looked at him, smiling a big goofy smile. He laughed a little, and asked me what mountain I wanted to do tomorrow.

Do the thing you didn't think you'd ever do. Believe you can do it. Go for the one you always wondered about...

Climb the mountain.

[seeking-sanity]

Ordinary... or is it?

It was an ordinary day. It was an ordinary comment on a social media post. It was simple, but sincere.

That comment gave way to a message, a thank you for my comment. My reply was cocky, atypical for me... "don't you owe me a Steelers game?" The owed part was from over a decade before, in a local dive bar, from a mutual friend's birthday party.

I was at that party with someone, the narcissist I married and endured for far too long... I didn't remember much of that night, except that conversation...

I remember where we were sitting, conversing like we too were friends... the reality was, I had said more than a handful of words to this guy in more than a dozen instances in the decade before that.

He was always cute. I knew nothing of him really, we had mutual friends and similar taste in music. We both were steelers fans. That is what had us connected on social media all these years...

We are the same age, only days apart. We went to high school in the same town, but he went to trade school, while I took the "traditional" route. We had mutual friends even then, but never hung out. The first time I really remember him was senior year, or the summer after graduation maybe.

He worked at a gas station in town, and that is where I saw him most. My best friend ended up dating a guy in the outer circle of his friends group, and I would occasionally see him at a house or party. We still never spoke. It was always polite interactions at the gas station, or comments on social media.

It wasn't until AFTER we started talking this year that we really dug into the seemingly insignificant interactions over the years. Almost always a happy birthday, a warped tour ticket sale, car question here or there, relationship advise over the years...but really nothing that would indicate anything interesting.

We started chatting in December. It was about religion, life, and dreams. I didn't think anything of it. Until he said "lets go to that game"... I didn't know he was calling my bluff in that moment. I didn't know we would evolve like this. It was just football.

He asked me to get drinks and catch up. It was innocent. It was awkward, "catching up" with someone you never actually hung out with before... we met and went out for a drive and coffee. We spent 12 hours, and just never stopped talking.

We went to the beach in sub zero weather, watched the tides break on the shore. Walked in the sand talking about the torments that left us standing there together... his life, my own. his decades of tribulations, my own past and current walls. All of it. I didn't know then how much he hated the cold, but he endured it without complaint.

We left the beach and went looking for coffee to warm us up. There was no available coffee in town, so we went looking for an open spot. On that adventure we came across a park with an artists Christmas themed light display, sprawling grounds, the crisp air, it was poetic. We walked in that park, took pictures for strangers posing, and sat on a swing for hours, talking about our childhood, our beliefs, our recent pasts... he held nothing back. Spoke openly about the best and worst parts of himself. There was no fascade. We walked again, to shake the cold- slowly around the pond. Somewhere in the distance, a fireworks display became the backdrop for our midnight stroll. We drove that night, to an obscene amount of coffee shops, either closed or out of service. He never lost patience, never tried to offer an alternative- just questing for coffee.

Our quest took us across state lines, and at least 6 failed stops. We laughed the entire way. We spent 12 hours that night. Opening up, connecting, laughing...

We spent the next few days texting, and that hard smile stayed for days. We spent a few days deferring from seeing the other- trying to hold out. texting all hours of the day and night. We had a few casual hangouts, then a routine of rushing home to see each other after work. It was staying out ALL night, getting home as the sun rose... napping for an hour or 2 before work, and repeat.

We tried to set boundaries, say we would not see each other for a day or 2, it almost never worked out like that.

New Years Eve we spent together, low key with some wine and all the crazy snacks we enjoyed in our crazier days. Bar remedy snacks, drunken party snacks, summer obscure snacks...

He kissed me at midnight as we watched the ball drop in Time's Square. We watched the balls drop all across the globe together that night.

January 1st was our first kiss, one week later we took a 10 hour road trip and saw that football game... we drove down the day before, ALL day. We never turned the radio on. That trip we planned our July trip. He committed with such confidence in that moment...

We spent the weekend in PA, and it was perfect. He prepped for my anxiety, reconned coffee the night before, and left to get coffee while I showered. He dealt with my anxiety in the crowded streets and packed stadium. It was nothing to him, to accomodate me in the little things... that everyone else made me feel inconvenienced for...

We found new places, ate new foods, and laughed... alot. There was no awkwardness in sharing a bed. There was a natural fitment for his arms around me... there was a confidence in his touch that I cannot explain.

We spent the drive back talking about plans, dreams, goals, and life. The entire ride was filled with moments, no silence.

It wasn't long after that, when I introduced him to my friends and family. It was the first night meeting them, that THEY psuh the relationship title...

Its crazy to think about... being not even 6 months in... how much we have done. Dates, memories, moments...

I've spent a long time unable to write. Lost for words, and soaking in the moments. The sunsets, the lakes, the 3 hour rides for a beach I've never been to...

Its so much, and yet its just life now. Its all the effort I have asked for, begged for... from a man that gives it freely, without ever being asked.

I can't tell you how many things I "let go" of in the past, because I was tired of begging for it. A man that is patient, kind, emotionally open, passionate, motivated. I married a man that would complain endlessly about something he could have repaired to spare himself the hassle, but was unwilling to do the most minor tasks. (changing a light bulb). I then spent years with a man that always was getting to it... never doing it... no initiative, regardless of the task. And this man walks into my life and literally fixes things he didn't break. Without being asked.

Patches holes in walls he wasn't responsible for. Changing ceiling fans because they've been in boxes waiting to install for about 6 years. Puts in the AC because I verbalized my upcoming to-do list... brings me flowers.... randomly. To a date, to work, whatever.

This man has taught me to respect myself, to stop letting the world walk on me. Encourages me to do what I need to do for ME, not for someone else, not for a company that doesn't care... ME.

This man lets me sleep in, wakes me just the slightest to kiss me if he is leaving, says goodnight and good morning, every day. I BEGGED men to do less, and got complacency.

He showed me I was NOT asking too much, I was just asking the wrong man.

I have come to exist in this bizarre reality, where there is silence before bed... laying there, in his arms, I am reflecting on how thankful I am to have someone I can smile with... Someone that embraces my weird and bizarre and loves me freely.

I find it so crazy to think about love, and this chapter in my life... it simply IS. There was no effort of building up to this. There was no major thing to overcome that drew us together. Divine timing...

I believe that to be true. I believe I was always supposed to be here, I just wasn't ready yet. A million times I had thought about trying to talk to him. a lifetime ago... I feel almost like he always knew, and was just waiting for me... he moved into this with such peace, and confidence. No fear, no hesitation...

Sometimes I lay awake and rewind the last 25 years in my head, insert alternative paths I could have taken... Ultimately, I will never know if I was emotionally mature enough back then... or if he was the same man I see today... I'm forever grateful for the man that stands beside me today. Even if we missed out on a lifetime together....

Life is becoming ordinary now. The anxiety of basic interactions is fading. The skin crawling feeling at a person touching me is more discriminatory now. The walking on eggshells, and praying that tomorrow will be better is gone. I fall asleep just hoping for another day together...

I filed for the divorce I was terrified to file. I saw the abusers face, heard him speak, and stood there unhindered by his prescence. Legally divorced.

I cannot tell you the weight that lifted, but even in the middle of it, I felt weightless. I felt worry-free. i felt loved. Maybe for the first time in my life...

I feel like no one really talks about real love. The kind that just ignites itself and keeps burning despite whatever tries to extinguish it. The kind that just settles in, becomes an object of permanence, without the tailored frills of hallmark.

The kind that makes a person feel like home. That there is a sudden understanding that literally nothing else matters if that person is there. There is no fear, no anxiety, no doubts, no insecurity. It just is, it blooms, it is beautiful... it is calm.

There are no butterflies, there is still a teenagers endless smile, a smitten stare in every opportunity. I look at this man, in awe, everyday.

I find security and safety in his arms, I find joy in his laughter, I love listening to him speak about just about anything he cares about...

I find friendship in his love, and certainty in his heart.

For the first time in my life, I am moving without an exit strategy, no back up plan. I am building each day into the forever I have dreamt about...

sandy beaches, sunsets, and sweet kisses. Thats all I've ever wanted, and he gives me so much more...

[seeking-sanity]

2023 and me...

It was a comment on a thread... not unlike so many past micro-interactions...

It was an overtly confident and somewhat sarcastic message, with no actual foundation to build on...

It was a 12 year old conversation, resumed with a "call the bluff" undertone... for both of us...

It was a 12+ hour "lets meet up for drinks" first (not real) date...

It was driving and talking about anything and everything, it was freezing cold beaches with wet shoes (emergency flip flops for the save), it was Christmas light displays in the park, it was a swinging bench in the middle of the night, it was spontaneous mystery fireworks, it was interstate travelling for coffee, it was home at sunrise, and smile that hurt my cheeks the whole next day.

It was texting at all hours, it was talking about our dreams (the actual kind caused by sleep), it was talking about "the old days" as teenagers, it was unlocking memories from what felt like several lifetimes ago...

It was movies, and parks, and goodmorning texts, it was "the spot" and sunrise bedtimes, it was awkward hugs in the subzero weather, it was a million thoughts we stirred in silence... for weeks...

It was a NYE date, it was watching the ball drop- all the way across the country (including Idaho dropping their potato)... it was a shy 12am first kiss...

I started 2023 with a kiss. From a man that had put forth great effort to show me a million reasons why he should be my last first kiss.

He gave me an excess of the basics... which I only know now are the basics. Essential basics, but really- just basics...

This man showed interest, and followed through... He initiated contact, planned ideas, gave me time... honesty, respect. He asked about the situations that he had questions about, he communicated with me effectively and consistently.

Not once did I fall asleep without a "goodnight, sweet dreams". call, text, or in real life. The day always ends with sweet dreams. always. It always starts with goodmorning. It doesn't matter who woke first, it was always there waiting... imagine a life where there REALLY is a day beginning and ending with you... we can all sit here and say we would want that, we could do that, etc... but imagine- really imagine someone making sure you knew. every day and every night. Their day began and ended with you. imagine being that for someone....

We slow danced in public when he told me he loved me. I had swallowed those words 1000 times by then. I knew it, in my soul before he ever spoke it...

I have never slow danced in public before. Like real public; surrounded by strangers... he is the only man I have slow danced with OUTSIDE of a wedding...

2023 started with a first kiss. 1 week later we took a weekend road trip together. 10 hours each direction, and the only people we knew there were each other... It wasn't long after I was slow dipping in the friend group... seemless assimilation and acceptance. No awkwardness you feel like you have to apologize for- just good times... it was late night drives to empty parks, coffee and endless patience to find it... this man never made me feel like patience was an effort for him. we are not quite half way through the year, and I could write more amazing moments and memories than I ever imagined possible.

I've learned so much in the past few months. evolved in many ways. I'm almost ready to write about it... the feelings are more than words though... seemingly impossible to articulate. I'm getting there...

[seeking-sanity]

Unhappy endings...

So, no one told me that I would spend more time struggling with happiness, than ridding my heart of the broken parts...

No one told me that the next one would be the hardest lesson... learning to love myself, to appreciate my own worth, and ultimately, choosing what I deserved.

I spent years of my life long distance loving someone that didn't ever intend to live a "real" life. He moved here during year 3, and I spent the next year learning to loathe his complacency. And other things...

He spent years telling me all the words I needed to hear. He is wholly responsible for my healing from my abusive marriage; even if it didn't turn out to be the epic love story.

I spent years, HUNDREDS (if not thousands) of hours on the phone... getting to know him. Letting my guard down. The man that moved here was not the man I was promised.

The year he was here was a strange fast tracked lifetime... ultimately, he wasn't willing to give me the effort I needed, and ultimately learned I deserved.

I don't want to diminish the value, or take away from the man. I do believe he loved me... just not enough to be the man he promised he was. I do not regret our time together, or the memories we made. I wish him the best in his journey... as I had to continue on my own...

[seeking-sanity]

simulation theory....

so, it's been a while since i wrote here. its been a while since i have had the time and peace to write honestly...

i've started working on the therapeutics of survival differently.

i've also started having interesting dialogues about the concept of simulation theory with someone at work.

we are both college education, degrees in science, and generally rational people.

the concept of simulation theory is interesting on many levels. the perspectives of the parameters of the simulation are the first level of complexities. you have to rationalize why the simulation would occur, before we can prove it is indeed, occurring...

one perspective is that from the idea of a pure scientific approach, being conducted by some external being in actual control. that concept being simply described as if we are the SIMS in someone else's video game. whether the motive is entertainment, or science based doesn't really matter, although each of those motives presents their own unique sets of arguments in this debate...

a second perspective is that of a non-religious creator concept. that we are essentially the paint strokes within their own personal masterpiece. the motive is a being's self-satisfaction with their creation. a direct reflection of the design they envision. the beta launch if you will...

a third perspective is the concept of spontaneous lost programming. this alignment of thoughts basically removes the idea of a programmer and creates this rogue strand of existence that simply wasn't coded properly. and while this perspective seems the least productive, it does allow for inclusion of the opposition's argument in terms of "real life" being reality (negating the possibility of a simulation possibility).

initially, i found myself immediately dismissing the idea of a simulation theory. i justified the concept as being as possible as a fantasy RPG.... imagination can be convincing, but the idea of a simulation wasn't even a thought i could entertain investigating at first... it simply didn't fit the idea of "possible" that i previously had...

then as i listened to theories of possibility, i somehow entertained the dissertation of abnormalities that showed the slightest opportunity to stir free thoughts... and then i began to travel the lightning bolts of the slightly possible, into a storm of thoughts.... of possibilities....

that being said, i'm not saying this **IS** simulation theory... just that MAYBE it is possible...

[seeking-sanity]

[seeking-sanity]

thoughts on the year

its been an incredibly long year. of isolation, social distance, essential work, feelings of helplessness and despair... the year has just been HEAVY. 

the new year began for me with psych hospitals, and trying to shield my children from their fathers mental health instability. it was daily trips 45-50 minutes each way, for the one hour visit, that they never allowed the full hour for... it was coordinating teenage life with a strict visit schedule, it was navigating work and home time... it was trying to help rehab someone that didn’t want help... it was a few months of putting everything in my life on hold, to try to “do the right thing”... it was the beginning of an indescribable anxiety, this deep seeded stirring constant feeling of fear building in my chest. it was weeks of trying, and hitting reset, as i let someone else’s situations dictate my life. 

the saga of my ex and his gaslight manifest blended nicely into a pandemic that caused unprecedented shutdowns. it merged right into a million questions about food supply, safety, government, the new mutated corona virus that had caused massive outbreaks across the world... 

as the world stopped hoarding toilet paper, and some parts of life returned to “normal”, the reality of healthcare changed daily. ever changing rules, unknown variables in exposure, risks for patients... everyday for months was something new. the impending doom of trying to stay Covid-free in a congregated at-risk population... 

the endless hours of overtime... the dual income style single paychecks... the mental and physical exhaustion, every day... with no end in sight... 

a beautiful 2 week vacation, full of awesome memories, amazing experiences, and a solid foundation for moving forward... i left that vacation with a sense of calm and confidence that i have never known before... 

i had a ton of anxiety about the holidays... i had anxiety about thanksgiving, and what it would look like with all the distance i could create... i had anxiety about christmas, and the perfect opportunity my ex had to re-enact last years stunt... i had such mixed feelings on the distance i created between him and i, despite the kids... this ideal world notion of actually moving forward, separately, and raising the kids was so cemented in my brain for so long... it was truly all i wanted.  it has become apparent that the only way that can actually happen, is if/when he decides that he wants that to happen... he has taken any and every opportunity to remind me of all of my imperfections, every flaw he has ever noticed... he has taken every chance he saw, and even some he created simply for the sake of doing so- to tell me how worthless i am to the world... but that he “loves me”... he has taken every opportunity this year to try to guilt me into going back, that i owed him something more than all the years i tried and tried alone... he has missed no opportunities to blame me for his actions, repeatedly. and he will stand there, after telling me how terrible i am, and ask me why i don’t love him...  the distance, the giving up on trying to do whats right... the idea of being okay with whatever life choices he makes, has become easier day by day... 

i spent the fall planning for the holidays, entertaining the idea that this will likely be my last holidays “home”, on the east coast... my feelings go back and forth on that every other day... i’m excited to start a new life, to try new things, to trust enough to take the leap... but i sometimes wonder if there wasn’t a reason i always found my way back home... from far more beautiful places, i always came back home... maybe i just never found the right reasons to stay, or maybe this was the exact convoluted trail i was supposed to travel... 

i focused on family and friends and what would matter most moving forward. i became comfortable with walking away from everything... a house full of “stuff”, a yard full of money spent to fulfill someone else’s dreams... i held hard on to the idea of recouping something, anything at all.... they weren’t my dreams, but they were always pushed off as my failures... 

i learned that they were not my failures, nor were they my responsibility... and somewhere in that letting go, it stopped mattering if there was anything to get back out of a failed business, the assets... none of it matters. 

for christmas i focused less on the items, and more on the joy... what would bring actual feelings of excitement and joy to the people i care most about... instead of the items they simply expected, i made a concerted effort to find items and opportunities to reach something more than that small moment of instant gratification. 

i found myself far more calm these last few weeks than i expected i would be. i had given myself anxiety about my anxiety... 

learning that i do actually have the power to control what i let determine the quality of my day was the most empowering moment... i can’t even begin to describe how simple the concept is, and how easy it really is... 

for me, i had to realize that i cared more about the entirety than those i was allowing to effect a single moment... recognizing that it wasn’t my job or responsibility to save someone was hard. actually realizing what was staring me in the face for a lifetime was harder. valuing myself enough to stop allowing myself to be his prey was the hardest. 

i was conditioned to believe that love doesn’t quit. that it meant you should keep trying. that the vows i took mattered, more than any single fight or disagreement ever could. i was conditioned to believe that if it wasn’t working, i needed to try harder, do better. i was living my entire life trying to please someone that will never be pleased, nothing will ever be good enough... there will always be a flaw, the one mistake will be the condemnation they will never live down... 

i used to fight for his “love”, and it was all i lived for. fought for, for years....

this year has shown me that you shouldn’t have to endlessly fight for the smallest bit of affection. that love is meant to be reciprocated and appreciated. this year has shown me that love isn’t this depressing existence that is an endless obstacle course of trying to fix the everything wrong in the world, while someone take a sledgehammer to every bit of progress you have made... 

this year has been a roller coaster of healing, finding healthy relationships , and learning to unlearn the trauma and behaviors associated with... 

i’m looking forward to the new year. with new adventures, new hope, and i’m sure new obstacles. i am excited about moving forward with my life, building a healthy, hopeful future. i’m excited about continuing to build a beautiful relationship, and exploring the world without the burden of trying to pave the entire way... 

so here’s to 2020, to the restocking of toilet paper, and the re-invention of my life... 

[seeking-sanity]

thoughts on us...

they say the right one comes in silently, there is no heart racing or fluttering feelings. they say the right one, your soul simply recognizes and calmly accepts... 

i keep trying to focus on the details... the first moments... 

i can’t. i can’t recall how we became friends, aside from working together... i can’t recall any particular instance, or subject we would have connected on... i remember the way i would smile at him. i remember calling him a friend. i remember being thinking he was super cute. i remember asking him out. i remember being “ok” when he declined. i can’t remember the feeling from when i met him. i can’t remember a moment of being angry or upset, strangely just accepted the rejection and returned to the regular interactions without further notable moments. 

i remember leaving the job, and hearing about him from time to time from mutual friends. i don’t remember ever forgetting about him, or realizing maybe i wasn’t supposed to. i do remember hearing about when he left there. i remember “losing touch”, but i never forgot about him... 

i can recall the few interactions over the years since. randomly seeing him one halloween, i was excited to see him, happy to see he was doing well. 

trying to think back to what i felt when i saw his social media... when i saw his photos... before we ever spoke... 

i DO remember that first interaction... the casual conversation that felt like it was nothing to pick back up after 15 years. i remember the calm comfort in talking to him; being the first person outside my tiny circle that knew what was going on in my life. i remember being so naturally open and honest with him. 

i had considered that to be a conscious decision to never try to fit into anyone’s proverbial box again... i had believed it was my concentrated effort to boldly be myself... and maybe it was both of those things. but it was so effortless. 

i remember hours of talking to him. about anything and everything. i remember the smile in his voice that took over my heart. i remember the feelings of young love, with a highschool like effort. we lived on the phone. hours everyday, late into the night, falling asleep together... i remember it feeling like we had been doing it forever, and it never felt too fast or like it was too much... 

i remember the uncharacteristic calmness when i booked that first trip. i remember having some anxiety about the idea of flying across the country to see a boy i was falling in love with... i remember my only fear being that none of this was true, or that we would lack the organic chemistry to maintain what had fallen together perfectly. 

i remember nervousness as i got off the plane, after 12 hours of travel and a million thoughts about how i was supposed to act. we had said we loved each other hundreds of times at this point, but never kissed. we had talked about our future plans, but never held hands... i remember wondering how that was going be. 

the ideal first kiss is this perfectly romantic moment right? we all have this fairy tale in our heads of how  the moment will be; how passionate the kiss will be, how the entire night will go after... here we are in an airport, full of people, with his friends there too... anticipating the moments after, should i grab his hand, or wait for him to grab mine? 

i remember the instant ending of all nervousness the moment i felt his arms around me. i remember the feeling of everything feeling like it was just as it should be. i remember the chemistry on fire, as if every moment from the days prior had perfectly blended into reality. i remember the magnetic attraction i had to touching him, feeling his hand on mine... 

i remember in the first few days of being with him, expecting it to all fall apart. like some epic flaw was going to present itself like the cousin you invite because you’re expected to, but hope never actually shows up. i remember the conditioning in my brain that there still had to be something coming... the feeling of impending doom lingered there for a while... 

over the last year, he has shown me that maybe not all things end the same. and maybe it wasn’t just one more false hope to leave me broken... 

here we are now, planning a life together... i still can’t remember any of those moments when my chest would pound and heart would race. i don’t recall any butterflies or inexplicable feelings within myself. 

just a calm. a sense of security, and trust... respect. 

a younger version of myself would have put down this book, for being such an anticlimactic love story. 

but i am more excited for this journey, in simply finding peace, love, and a soul my heart can no longer live without... 

[seeking-sanity]

packing boxes

i’m going to move... my entire life has changed so drastically in the year before the pandemic, and more so in the year of the masks... 

i’m going through the physical entirety of my life, every day... so much baggage to sort through. so many useless things, held on to for far too long... 

i’ve decided to go with so little of it all. literally take the essentials, and start from scratch. every day i move through a little bit of the mess. everyday i am overwhelmed at the  massive amount of upheaval this is going to be. how much work it actually is... 

yesterday i started packing a box to ship, full of gifts. and as i was packaging the handmade gift i am most excited about... i realized how few things exist in my life that would get the same attention and care. i was done with sorting through my personal mess before i even intended to start yesterday... 

i’m not sure which part is harder to deal with; the collection of meaningless things, or the reality that there are so many missed meaningful moments along the way... 

the other night i was sorting through the checklist of what i would need sooner than later after the move... the small things we may overlook... the proverbial can opener... because it doesn’t matter what you have, if you can’t access it right? but the last thing we think about is the can opener when we are buying canned vegetables for dinner... 

i was sorting through clothes. got stuck on the idea of having a need for something more than work clothes... lost in the idea of actually living. what will it be like to have balance, and something to do... i moved away from that task, and looked to the next... everything i am looking at is a reminder of the life i’m excited to leave behind... 

but the actualization of a life beyond this... gets pretty scary sometimes. 

i think the part people don’t understand about why people stay in abusive situations, is the safety of knowing. as terrible as the worst day can be- you already know the reset. you know the fallout, you know the limits in which you exist. you have nothing unknown to fear. 

it’s easy to go into something knowing the outcome; regardless of the severity. it is terrifying going into a new experience with no idea what to expect. 

there are six million, four hundred seventy eight thousand, nine hundred and thirty three -  different “what if’s” in my head right now. all of which leave me with an almost paralyzing anxiety about moving forward... 

i have spent the majority of my adult life in an unhealthy relationship. i have spent the majority of my adult life living for and loving people that simply were not capable of returning that. i have spent the majority of my adult life picking and choosing what i had to ignore for myself on any given day. this is normal. this is all i know. 

but i have this life now... that at times seems so foreign to me... one with respect and honesty. one with compromise, compassion, and respect. 

i’m trying to pack boxes. 

of things to take and things to leave behind. 

to a life that is entirely different than what i’m leaving behind... 

the physical boxes keep getting pushed aside, because there is so much baggage i didn’t realize i still had to unpack... 

[seeking-sanity]

your greatest fear...

so i’m at work, and i’m doing work things, and a sweet little old lady was having a rough night. her eyes were red and blood shot, she states she hasn’t slept in days, and he face is heavy with worry and stress. you could feel the weight of her reality simply by looking at her. 

i tried to talk to her, but she continued to deflect the conversation by stating that no one ever believes her anyways... she mumbles incoherently about it and turns to leave. i follow her, and ask again what is bothering her. 

she proceeds to tell me about the evil that plagues her. the looming evil man that haunts her at night... clearly there is no physical man... but he haunts her at night. she becomes visibly changed in the moment just talking about it... nothing helps she says... 

and for a moment she looks at me, almost calm, and whispers “you don’t have to listen, i know no one believes it.” 

except i do. i do believe something very real haunts her. i do believe that there is something beyond her control and comprehension that keeps her up at night. something stronger than the medications... 

i don’t know what it is, about moments in our lives that simply stick. embed themselves into the eternity of our brains. nothing really helps... things you can’t unsee, moments you can’t forget, sounds that reverberate endlessly with the memories they hold... 

in my head i rationalize it, it’s the same as an irrational fear...a person has such strong anxiety regarding a subject they likely have never or will never experience. yet there is every bit of sincere emotion and fear linked to the idea itself... almost paralyzing at times. my moments are those, except i have lived them. i have endured them... 

still at night those moments haunt me too. sometimes the silence screams a thousand moments of regret. and each of those moments is eroded to the moment before that lead to the particular moment. like a backwards flip book of events that i replay, wondering if they had been in any other sequence, would it have been the same? 

the hindsight wondering of “what if i didn’t...” a thousand times over... what if i didn’t... what if. 

what if her evil spirits are real? a lifetime of memories i can’t interpret, results of choices i can’t forgive myself for... 

is this what the future holds for all of us? what if you had to face your greatest fear. and relive it everyday or night... for an indeterminate amount of time, with no hope of resolution in sight. when medications don’t numb it, or suppress it... when the only hope you see is living through the moment enough times to make the right choice, in some reality, that frees your heart of the memory... 

[seeking-sanity]

when peace causes chaos...

it has been so long living with anxiety, living with the reality that literally everything in my life was contingent on what value it brought to someone else... 

I had spent so long constantly living in a state of feeling like I had to continuously prove my worth and value to the people around me; that I don’t know what to do now that those people are no longer relevant. 

how does one adjust to being secure in being enough, exactly as you are. 

when forever you have never been enough... 

the more I “heal” the less I know how to breathe without a feeling of overwhelming anxiety that I shouldn’t feel so comfortable doing such a simple thing... 

the more I think about life moving forward, the more I wonder when I will be able to think like what I presume is a “normal” person does... 

does there come a time that I will stop doubting people who have never given me reason to doubt them? is there a time that I will be able to honestly say that I am no longer over-analyzing every single action and trying to decipher codes that may or may not exist? 

there is this man. this amazing man that loves me... and in moments of sanity, I don’t doubt his love, or our future at all. he has spent everyday of the past year proving that not only is he interested in learning my heart, he accepts the flaws in it. he talks to me with love and acceptance. he has patience for my insecurity, and continues to try to convince my of all the things others have torn away. 

he tells me that i’m beautiful, when my husband would tell me that no one would love me. he tells me that i’m smart, when my husband would tell me I was dumb. he hears my fears and insecurities, when my husband would play into them... 

and I try so hard to believe him... I try so hard to believe this is real, this is truth. I try to stop thinking that this is all an act... because if it is an act, after a year... i’m probably not going to see through it until its too late anyways... 

I love him. but I don’t know how to stop keeping him at arms length... 

I don’t even know if he knows the lengths I keep him at... I fear he will feel suffocated if he knew how much closer I would like to keep him... 

I've spent a lot of hours trying to explore what it is that keeps me almost paralyzed with fear. 

will I always hold him responsible to prove to me this is real? how do I learn to act normal, when I've never been in a position to do so... 

the truth is, I want to be vulnerable. I don’t want to stay composed, calm and collected. I don’t want to be okay if he leaves. I don’t want to push him until he leaves. I don’t want to be stoic and put together. 

I want to be strong enough to trust him. to allow him to see the mess I really am. to fall apart. I want to able to allow myself to need him.  I want to be able to admit to needing him. and while I have been entirely honest with him, its limited to what he asks. its paid for by his reciprocation of honesty. 

I want to never second guess his affection. I want to stop seeing motive in every action or gesture... 

i’m not blaming him for things in my past, but I don’t know how to uncondition this brain to process moments differently... 

I don’t know how to deal without the anxiety either... because when there are days that I manage to stop over thinking everything he says, when I find a groove where we just exist and my brain and heart are at peace... I look for the anxiety. I miss the awareness, the sense of safety in being prepared for the other shoe to drop. always. 

the peace in my heart can only exist when my mind is wound up tight, my mind can only stop when my heart is pushing for solitude... 

in the past, my mind and heart were always working together to maintain the “love” it desired... or was convinced I deserved... 

how do you change the standard? I want to love him how he deserves... 

[seeking-sanity]

[seeking-sanity]

multicolored fractals, never seeing light...

what would you do if you could actually know someone’s true thoughts? the thousands of back and forths and insecurities they battled on any given day... what would you do if you had someone’s complete vulnerability at your fingertips? 

would you find comfort in the idea that they trust you to understand their turmoil and only credit them with the words they said, or would you condemn them for their indecision and force them to face their lingering thoughts? 

can you imagine the comfort and the power in that moment? 

the reality is, no one could honestly overlook the unspoken words... no one can actually see the endless thoughts and not dwell on them, and manifest their reality... 

oh, but if they could... 

if i could tell you, without fear of [a rational] reaction... if i could show you the endless whirlwind that was my mind... the darkest shadows of my heart, the memories plagued with fabricated resolutions... 

if i could actually show you the scars of a lifetime, the hopes of the child, and sacred fear of my heart... 

if you could feel, even for a moment, the rush of emotions in any given moment... it’s endless. 

every moment that isn’t drown in mindless activity and distraction is a pot ready to boil over. thoughts from a million directions, from various situations, sometimes days or weeks after the fact... 

those epiphany moments, that are hinged on regret, because you couldn’t find the words when they were relevant... the constant articulation of thoughts for events that have yet to occur... 

i often wonder if it’s just me... if it’s my mind that is broken, if they things i cannot say simply don’t exist for others. it seems to me, if these things were normal, SOMEONE would have brought it up by now... someone would have made it relevant... 

when every day is a battle with yourself... not only because you don’t feel comfortable enough with anyone to try to be that open; but because you truly feel alone. more and more each day. 

[seeking-sanity]

postsecret therapy

i remember when i first started following postsecret, it was before smart phones that were smart enough to do anything “online” on... it was the cusp of the explosion of social media... it was myspace, and a few spin offs that floundered... it was yahoo messenger and AIM, and being in front of a laptop to use it. usually in a house, but maybe outside on the porch if you had the expensive internet and router... i remember going to the library to get the first book... not because there wasn’t a Walden Books or Barnes and Noble around, but because the culture of post secret was to add a secret... find someone else’s additional secret... 

i remember making time, every sunday. like it was church... to sit and read the secrets. to mull them over, imagining who i knew that may have sent any specific one.

i’ve sent in dozens over the years. at all different times in my life, some very secret ones, and some that were kinda presumably known... 

i still follow post secret, not with the same routine as before... maybe its a random tuesday, but every week i go... peruse the thoughts and feelings of strangers... 

i think about my entire life... if i did an autobiography post secret style. just a collection of secrets, or stories in secret format... maybe in some semblance of chronological order... maybe just moments randomly thrown together; its kind of how they exist in my mind... 

 this week there was a secret, about faking orgasms... and how the writer had never had one... 

to me its not about the orgasm, but the idea that there isn’t enough communication to be honest about it, there isn’t enough trust to talk about it, and that these women apparently lack the confidence to direct a partner to what works for them... 

this week’s focus for me was the lack of ability to speak up for themselves... to communicate... and for me, the lack of intuition for that partner that doesn’t notice the lack of satisfaction... 

am i strange for finding the message to be a disconnect outside of the bedroom that simply carries over? am i the only one that thinks that we should be talking about this with our partners more? that a person that loves and respects us should be receptive to hearing us, and would want to hear it? 

why as a society is this lack of communication a norm? why do we as women think it is ok to fake an orgasm, not talk about it, and yet somehow expect it will get better? and why do us women keep these disappointment to ourselves but also expect our partners to be wholly open and honest with us? 

its all about communication. and for me, the respect and value of the relationship on whether or not its worth having conversations about atypical and maybe difficult topics. 

to me, talking about satisfaction is no different than talking about favorite foods, or restaurants you like or dislike. its no different than talking about what you are looking for and what you are looking to avoid. these are topics in all life decisions we make. features we want in cars, what we have liked or disliked about past cars, what we want in our dream car... for houses, and homes... what we want to call comfortable forever, what structural features we are looking for, what features we simply don’t like. why is intimacy with our partner any different? why is sex any different? 

yes intimacy and sex are different. 

but all of it. all of it should be a normalized conversation. it should be open, honest, well communicated, and openly received... 

i’m not sure i have ever met anyone that quite thinks like i do... often times my blatant disregard for the social “norm” in light of what makes more sense is often met with some polite resistance... 

i’m too old to cater to feelings that aren’t interested in investing in mine. i’m too old to live this life with confines that simply are limiting without any purpose. 

what does lack of communication do for anyone? spare feelings? why would feelings be hurt if the conversation was as normal as how someone prefers their coffee? what purpose does serving only one variety of coffee do for anyone? is there some benefit to making people miss the flavor of varieties of roasts and blends? is there a gain in people not experiencing the best combination of cold cream and hot robust coffee? not for anyone... 

we need to talk. we need to be able to talk about anything, openly and with respect. without fear of rejection... because not hearing my feelings pretty much means you don’t care about them. and that’s where the disconnect comes... 

its funny how a post card about a stranger and their current life, can trigger and entire unraveling of thoughts about how important communication is. 

i’m not sure how to empower people to find their voice. in all things... or to find the ear that wants to hear all the things... they do exist... 

i wonder what next weeks secrets will hold... i hope something more inspiring than the realization that there is an entire world full of women that think suffering in silence is normal, and they aren’t standing up to change it...