the bathroom floor

Creature of habit. I crawl onto the tiles and with arms wrapped around knees tight, I sink into the familiar space. Solace. A space I have always found myself in when the waves are unmanageable. I beg for the door to stay shut, please don't come searching for me. I so badly want to disappear and stay hidden. Let it flow through, let it run its course. So little can be done anymore but to just move through it. It's a state of mind, I'm told. It can be controlled. And I have. Though it is a smart infectious little disease and it learns my coping mechanisms and transforms itself so it comes as something new the next time, is triggered by something unfamiliar and so I am back at the beginning. It's an incredibly frustrating battle. The voice tells me you don't believe me, that you think I'm making it up. Another trick it's learned. Gets me when I'm down, makes me think you are the enemy. How helpless I must seem - and what an infuriating position to take as someone as strong headed and willed as I. I hold steady in my stubborn disposition - wanting to apologize, wanting to be reassured that you don't think I'm crazy. That becomes harder to do as it wears away my strength. I feel crazy. And then, without warning, I am broken. I am "cantgetoutofbedordressmyselforeatgoodfood" depressed. I'll blame the rain today. It's dark and eerie and something bigger is happening, I can feel it. A shift of sorts, perhaps. Our mother is warning us, we cannot keep on the path we've so stubbornly kept. We will be the first to go. Another worry to add to the ever growing list of worries that keeps me from doing much of anything. So I do just enough of everything to make it seem like I am doing something, but instead I am sinking. Deep. Into the bathroom floor.

the morning frost

it's still dark out when we rise, we eat and dress and the morning rush is upon us and hurriedly the kids run out the door and jump onto the bus and then all of a sudden it's quiet again. the silence is deafening. it could eat me alive if I let it. but I don't. slowly I go about, turning off lights and laying rest to the chaos that was present only moments ago. I want to go back to sleep, so very badly, but the dark room isn't always a safe haven and I need to do some marking. alas, the server is still down and I am locked out. I should have thought to download the files, but I didn't. how was I to know it would crash, anyways? good excuse to mindlessly peruse the interwebs and pay bills. money is such a fickle thing, just an illusion really - but the + dollars that appear on my bank app provides me with false gratification for the moment, and I'll take it because Tuesday mornings aren't my favorite. it is both validating and depressing to watch as the number on the screen get's smaller and smaller with every tap of my finger. I wonder what it feels like to never really have to worry about how much is there or if it's going to be enough. such a persuasive thing, money. if I were anybody else, I would have taken the opportunity to swim in it, but I can't fool my heart that way. the bills finally paid, I find myself restlessly attempting to log in again to start marking. no such luck, what now? suppose I should read the book, organize the office, clean, cook, what? all of the things that should be occupying my mind - and yet, I stay where I am and feel guilty instead. should should should. not feasible, not sustainable, not going to make it out alive this way. and I'm swallowing my words now, after countless conversations as I guide friends through rough patches with "the scenery is always changing". but is it? it feels incredibly stationary at the moment, and I am swarmed by the buzzing of little voices mocking me. ruthless as school yard children taunting, the voices know my weak spots and they have no mercy for my pleading today. I need to get out of these walls, but the frost on the ground is urging me back to sleep for wait of the sun to melt the cold. if only it were that simple.

that's how summer passed

the air is sharp, crisp. my favorite time in the 365 days that pass us by - the shift from heat and beach days to changing colors of the earth and chilly mornings. I am satisfied by the sound of shuffling leaves on the forest floor, for if only just that moment. this wandering mind has so often in the past left very little space for compensation. trial and error is a way of life, and it's hard to keep in check an ongoing expectation of who I presented in the first place. did you know I couldn't keep it up forever? but here I am, trying again. I so readily take it on as a fault of my own - an internal flaw that has shaped so much of my journey. This incessant need to create and destruct. but destruction of self just isn't flattering with an audience - and now the time has come to super glue the pieces back together so that I'm not always falling apart. It's a job, to be sure. and I suppose I told you this would make it better, in a moment of face swapping where the piece of me that sees the beauty in everything held the front stage and assured you of my disposition. confusing, to be certain - this shifting of persona that often takes place in the quiet space between seasons. but it would be a lonely life without you - and this isn't a game, is it? surely you know I am not playing. but when my mind is wandering, well, I can get into all sorts of trouble. and I lay quietly beside your resting spirit and I wonder if you know just how much I love every single thing about you. in the way that even the habits that make me feel crazy are appreciated because it all adds up to make you into the man I have fallen so deeply in with. it may seem so strange, but isn't that how we like it best anyhow? a whole lotta crazy with a good dash of oddity and strangeness for flavor? and I maybe let down some of the expectations that you had coming into this, and for that I feel a bit bad. but in all honesty, you knew better than to come with any illusions of me. we grow and we shift and the seasons change, and we'll take it on as it comes because that's how we roll. with the punches. and so summer has passed, and autumn is upon us, and more punches are rolling in... leave the illusions at the door - we've got so much more left to do together. still breathing.

the roses are dead

Wilted doesn't even begin to describe the state they're in. The water in the vase smells bad, and it wafts through the air as I sit cross-legged at the kitchen's island, writing for the first time in what feels like forever. I feel sad for them, they didn't ask to be plucked from their roots, and now they sit here pathetically slouched over the crystal glass we placed them in. The petals are crisp and turning black, it truly is a depressing sight. Despite the smell and the state that they're in, the feelings they evoke are much more complicated. Simply put, they are dead roses in a vase on the island in my kitchen. To me, they represent the space you have created within yourself to consider and appreciate me. Though I can't be certain, I imagine you saw them and thought that they would make me smile. This is representative of the time you've taken to know me, the care you've put in to understanding the small things (which are really the big things). The roses, to me, are a symbol of the way we flow together and the understanding required to live with another human. Even the fact that they are dead and smell bad represents to me the time and energy we put into just living our life with our children - remembering to trim them and change the water is not something we have time to consider because we are to busy just living and loving our lives. So yes, the roses are very much dead - but the love between us is only just blossoming. This is my favorite chapter yet.

be the love

the time has come
the walrus said
to talk of many things
is this it?

I did ask
or is this all a dream?
we've come so far
we've worked so hard
and the walrus did reply
oh yes, this here
is what you've dreamed
this is what you desire
and so I smiled
and I thought
how did I find my way?
I felt so lost
It was so dark
before you came to stay
the walrus smiled
a cheeky smile
and softly whispered to me
you found happiness
within yourself
and your light
guided his way
and this is it
the very start
of something altogether new
be grateful and
be the love
and it will guide you through

don't take it so personally

Words aren't as organic when I've drained myself to being nearly translucent. Time spent getting back to the person I was before I lost myself has been a trying feat. I didn't realize we had parted ways so far back... thankfully the terrain is forgiving, and I've walked the path so frequently that it's second nature and I don't stray. Determined to be true to who you first met, I put in the time. It's such a privilege to have time, to ease into the days best I can and feel everything so honestly. With this, I have learned a new patience with myself... and I am able to keep my intensity in perspective. I am learning to delegate my fierce disposition to appropriate tasks and conversations. June is both a beautiful and treacherous time in the year for me. Beauty and pain, joy and fear. I won't waste any more time trying to change what is not to be touched - but rather, by living presently I am learning that what will move my soul are the moments that are happening right now, the ones I am in. And through it all, you love me anyways - and I know now, that the greatest gift I could have is loving you back. Good things are on the horizon, and oh god have we earned it. Nothing is standing in our way... and I couldn't be more ready, and for that I know the work devoted to building this foundation is paying off. You get back what you put in - now we reap the joys of the seeds we've sowed. Don't forget to breathe.

am I safe here? yes you are safe here

A fight, if you could call it that... I'd name it tension, but that's just me. How easy would it be to designate that as a ritual? I lay in bed, suspended by my frustration that I can't always say what my heart is crying out. Sometimes the words just don't come, and the will power to make them is on a smoke break. And so I lay. And you, despite the ego that could take over, lay restlessly beside me. Why.Why.Why? You're just looking for some resolution... a response, so as to ease the nagging in your brain that tells you that it may be your fault. You want me to reassure you that it's not you, that it's {insert problem here}... but I'm voiceless and you're left to deal with the ongoing internal dialogue that is reminding you that it's your job to solve the puzzle. A puzzle. That's a fairly accurate representation of my being - except that I've put me together on a coffee table, and the kids keep knocking into it and pieces keep getting lost underneath the couch. We lay there, rolling back and forth between my stubborn disposition and your insistence that my silence is never a good sign.... and it could have consumed me, consumed us both. I breathe deep, and I hear you breathing with me, feel your chest rise and fall... and it floats away, and I turn into your arms. Your chest is warm, and your arms are wrapped around me tightly. Nothing is more calming that your hands moving up and down my back. Head on chest, legs entangled - your arms are the safest place I've found. In those moments, none of it matters and it's all just noise underneath us as we float up into the clouds x

the thing about an anxious mind....

is that it's a round-the-clock job. Very little comes easily (except worrying, that is) and that can be very exhausting. Like can't-get-out-of-bed exhaustion. I know this is confusing, because my exhaustion is so easily attributed to my single-parenting of three small children. The reality is though that often I'm exhausted because my brain never rests - even when I fall asleep, I encounter chillingly realistic dreams that often scare/shock/sadden me right out of my slumber. What's worse is that I am also an incredibly trusting person - too trusting, some would say. I will give you all of my confidence and trust that you will do me no wrong (until of course, you do, and then I am overly forgiving in nature which adds up to a whole world of trouble). The trouble with being a trusting anxious person is that it's a weak spot in my brain, and it's easily prayed upon by the anxiety demons who will, for no apparent reason, stick horribly intrusive and frightening scenarios in my head that make me question that trust. Are you where you say you are? Why didn't you call? Is there something else going on? ... and more often than not, I can calm that way of thinking. I have learned to talk myself out of the downward spiral that is doubt. But do you know what comes after that? Worry. I start wondering if you were hit by a car on your way home, and your body is laying mangled on the road. I start envisioning awful scenarios that are dark and often horrifying and they get stuck in my minds eye. All of the bad things that could have happened to you..  and then of course the worry that no one would contact me first because I'm not next of kin and and and... it can literally paralyze me. And because I've been managing this for as long as I can remember, I am fairly skilled at even coming out of that phase through self talk and meditation. This paralyzing worry and fear and stress. I know the cues and can typically find a quiet spot in my head to regroup and dump enough "reason" into the mix that I silence the worry and the doubt and the fear. However, what usually follows is anger. frustration. disappointment. Because I rely very heavily on you to help me. I rely on a quick text saying "at home, going to sleep" or even a call letting me know what's going on. I don't want explanations - not usually, at least. I may ask for them - but it's often in the absence of basic communication. And so I get angry - because I am now so exhausted from this merry-go-round that I feel like crying uncontrollably and resuming fetal position. Do you know what's even worse? Being a proud and strong willed anxious person. Can you even imagine how hard it is to lay this all out and say "I need this from you". Do you know how often I feel that expectation of just "turning it off" like my anxiety is something I can just stop doing? Mental struggles are so horrifyingly stigmatized, that if you don't know me well, you don't even know this about me. So when I am all of a sudden off the wall because you didn't take the five seconds to send me a quick text giving me the run down, it can sometimes be the difference between me getting out of bed or not. Ridiculous, right? Trust me, I know. Because after all of that mental brain fucking - you know what comes next? Self-doubt. Talking myself down, like I'm lying to myself. Things like "you're not really an anxious person, you just want attention" and "why are you trying to control him/her" or "this is why none of your relationships last... because you're crazy" ..... THATS how my brain rewards me. So if you ever question why I'm angry or disappointed or frustrated for seemingly no reason... use this as your platform. Remember that when I say "I just need to know what's going on" means... give me something that will help to aid in this process so I don't spiral. Maybe it's asking a lot - I can't decide that though. This is me, and these are some of the things that I need as an individual to maintain a relationship with someone. I need support. I need heads up. I need small texts of reminders/prompts/details. And no, I don't want to have to explain all of this - but I am strong enough now to recognize the importance of communication. The thing about an anxious mind? It's also a really loving and empathetic one, that wants to give to you all that it can - it just needs some help along the way.

strength in my resistance

Its heavy and weighted in my arms, and I do my very best to put it down, but it just begs until I pick it back up. A constant nagging to do better and fake it harder - all the while, my whole body is being dragged down by the heaviness of it all. And in the sphere of my rationale, I know it isn't as heavy as it could be, and it will be better, and I will get through it - but when the panic hits, that becomes irrelevant and I am suspended within the attacks. I have the language, the tools to express it, and I do. But it lingers, and when I'm wishing it would just pass, and you wonder why I'm so sad... I am yelling inside my head "I WANT IT TO STOP TOO!" But it isn't that easy, and I find myself often consumed by trying to make it go away. I know better, I know that if I let go and ride it out, it starts to fade. It feeds on my desire for it to go, and so it strengthens in my resistance. Rationale isn't my strong suit when I'm in full-blown anxiety though, and so I ride it and flail from it like an unsuspecting rider on a very treacherous roller coaster. And you stand by, ever ready to support and fighting the urge to be irritated. And you're not wrong in that, it's so irritating. The worst. But this is the battle in my brain - living with a mental inability to cope at all times. Today, and for the most of this past week, I am barely coping. I am breaking at the edges, and pieces of me are crumbling away. But I am here, and I'm still trying... and as long as I'm trying, it can't win. Hold tight, nobody said it was easy.

An open letter to the other parent

Being a single parent is hard. That's not to say that being a parent in any form isn't hard, but there are specific aspects of parenting that are especially tricky to navigate solo. They have been hashed out and rung out over and over again, with the debate always coming down to how hard parenting is regardless of who you are (or aren't) doing it with. However, one part of the debate we often shy away from is how to navigate your relationship with the other parent once you are separated. Seeing eye to eye on how to raise a child can be really tricky even in the best of circumstances - some parts are a breeze, and you both agree that encouraging your child to keep at soccer/gymnastics/swimming is simple... or that you take turns every week on who goes to activities. On the contrary, there are the muddier spaces of negotiation. This includes what you value in regards to care and well being, and finding a space for understanding when the other parent does not share those values. This is greatly simplified when there is a level of respect and courtesy to one another - but what happens when that is absent from the relationship? The reality is, when you chose to have a child together, you signed up for a life time of being in each others lives (whether you like it, or not). And it gets ugly, fast. Especially when it gets so muddy, that you stop being able to even rationalize seeing anything from the other parents point of view. Now I say this because, I have been there. I have been so caught up in my anger and depression and hurt - that I stood my ground and left no room for negotiation... because I was, simply put, done. So instead of moving forward, we moved backwards - rapidly, and in the wrong direction. When it came time for me to make peace with my demons, and allow for healing and growth to take place - I found myself starting from a really difficult position. And in that space, so much can get lost, and we can forget the important things. The most important thing being, the relationship with your child. So when those hard truths come about, what are we to do with them? We all have our own experiences, and from those we have our own story. Our story is our own, and how we feel about what has happened (and even how we remember what has happened) is something unique to us. Those hard truths are also going to be unique to us - and how we choose to move forward with them is going to shape how we inevitably carry forth our relationship with the other parent. The reality is though, that when the relationship with the other parent is strained.. our ability to parent our children solo is even harder. We all second-guess ourselves, and question our choices and actions... we are inherently formatted to feel guilt. The responsibility of raising a child is not one we take lightly, even if we are easy-going and relaxed about parenting from the get-go. So if we then complicate that already difficult field of emotion by, (for whatever reason), removing  the input of the other parent, we are left to navigate it solo. The point is - when you're caught up in your story and you are unable to find a space for respect and understanding with the other parent, you become consumed with the battle of things. It becomes about what you as a parent think is best, and not always about what is best for the child. What it comes down to is that it's just not worth it. We all want to do what is right deep down, but when it gets muddied with our personal feelings about the other parent, everything immediately gets harder. So if you are doing this on your own - I raise a toast to you, to the single parents who work at making those choices not only on their own, but with the chance that they are not congruent with the other parents choices. I salute you for having the strength and courage to do it on your own, and for making space for negotiation. Parenting isn't easy - but it can be simpler when we let go, and let the love for our little humans in. To the other parent: you are not alone, we are both doing this solo, and we can do better for our kids. Respect, support, understanding.

You are my plate

Never did I expect to be so embraced, so loved, so cherished... and for why? When did I trade in my self worth? When did I find room to negotiate what I was deserving of? So it was only natural that you came in and loved me anyways. Despite my insecurities and wonderment of worth, I found room to let go of what was holding me back, and make space for you to come in and sit down. And we let it all out. And you said that maybe I didn't want it anyways, that maybe I should find someone/somewhere/something else. Who knew, that I was not the only one worrying. And we sat down with the demons and the fears and the worries - and we made space. For it was only natural that we were all going to have to meet eventually... it was long overdue. And we learned that we both had very full plates. Overflowing. But what I hadn't realized, until you said the words, was that - I am your plate. You have made the choice to clean off the ones who had come before, the people and places of your past lives, and make it for you and me - for our beautiful children and this beautiful life. What I had failed to understand at the time was that .. it's a choice. We choose to stay, to work, to support, to love, to cry, to uphold, and withdraw, to reach out and to stand back. These are all choices we make to be here, to balance it all out. You are my plate - and I am yours. Together, we've got it all.

all I can do is pray, that I'll make it back one day...

Today, I heard the news. My daughter has a sister. In a perfect world, this would be joyous occasion and we would be planning a trip to the hospital sometime in the next day or two so they could meet and bond in those very precious early days. The heartbreaking reality weighs on me, that they will never meet in their childhood. They will not know of each others existence, or share in special connection that only comes between sisters. When Sophie tells me she wishes I had another baby, so she could have a baby sister, my heart will ache and I will force a smile. I will tell her how loved she is, how her and her siblings are so much love already that we couldn't possibly fit another. I will hold back tears and hope that one day, she will forgive me. In a perfect world, she would never know abandonment or feel an empty space within her - and she would never have to wish. Today, I heard the news that my daughter has a sister - and my heart aches for that sweet little girl, who will never know just how loved she is from afar. She will never know there is a big sister here, wishing she could hold her close and kiss her nose. If we could only just for a moment step away from our pride, things could be different. I wish you all the best in your early baby days sweet Isla - you are loved, even without knowing it.

Resolutions

I'm not a writer. I am in a deep and passionate love affair with language, and thrive when I am able to articulate the way the wind moves and the sound of the tension in the air and the feeling that comes when your heart is racing and your palms are sweaty. I love having the ability to share it with unsuspecting bystanders and longstanding listeners. Some days my whole body aches with the desire to pour out my thoughts in some way that feels tangible, and often it takes the form of letters on some type of blank canvas, strung together in a sequence of words that formulate the internal working of my mind. I put careful consideration into almost every aspect of my life, but my thoughts flow freely and passionately. This next 12 month period promises to hold many big changes, and often I find myself avoiding the flow of those thoughts, for I so often fear shifts in my routine. Tomorrow sometimes scares me so much I hide underneath the sheets of today and hope whatever come doesn't eat me alive. But other times (most times) I am able to look it in the face and say "bring it" with authority and certainty. I questioned myself as to what could change this year, what goals could I set for myself to make this year "better". So flawed is this way of thinking, I realized, and instead decided that nothing needed resolving. No more can I do than live presently, be aware of the love and light that surrounds me. I am not a writer, but I can tell you that this year is bound to change that.