My resolution was to write more. Write at all. The thing about stopping is that its terrible to begin again. An indistinguishable giant hurdle. Most humans feel that, or so they say that about habits- do it for seven days and it will stick. Seven days? Something like that. Here goes.
Feelings.
I've cried more in the last week or so than in a long time, since my wedding time. unfortunately for the storylines in my head- they have not been tears of joy. I am not super great about re-contextualizing my experience after intense feelings. It becomes a cemented shape, a sloppy smear in the freshly poured walkway. Not a cute paw print
an embarrassing mistake that's stuck forever. Anyone could notice it, at any point in eternity.
A permanence.
This could be my root of shame central. The imprints of everything around me that I can't ever undoes.
What people say to me, don't say to me, how they behave and everything that lacks in my life. It feels so excruciatingly embarrassing and painful. And I know I can't do anything about it, and its not me, not my fault, its my perception, etc. etc. But this haunting feels so shockingly permanent on the skin of my existence. Its the landscape that runs up and into my pores and suffocates me, mudslides I am buried under- fossilized. Twenty years later still unsure where my human skin is and where it has transformed to clay, earth, mummified and stuffed with straw.
Logically I know. I'm no virgin to Al Anon. The fifty million books I've read on the subjects.
I know.
And I have no idea,
No idea how to feel better. Approaching this aspect of ones life over and over is indefinitely confusing. Desperate to get through and solve and heal and make the future better is a morbid addiction- suffering like this, I would truly do anything, and I have.
You come across it. Alone in the thick of the freezing forest, that same tree, the path you memorized, the huge boulder with the slant along the rugged side, pressed into the mountain.
I swear your seen it/ never seen it before. The longer you try to see the more unsure and totally bewildered you become.
Everything dissolves in the dusk, in the shivering.
Your unsure what your doing out at night and if you had a mission...
How did you out at this hour?
Could this have happened again?
Desperate.
All the smooth deep emerald black shapes slowly swooshing in the air
all around you feels familiar, and terrible. This is that nightmare.
Tricked and cheated, anger all over my face and boiling out of my frozen limbs. Not a single memory as to how I fell out of that warm cottage
I lived somewhere warm, then plunked down in this scene. Its a completely true nightmare.
I can't stop crying now.
If I could just find one gumdrop that would lead me to the winches house.
I would gladly devour the glowing tiles and siding, feel the stickiness and sparkle close to my face, feel artificial color and bounciness,
a job I can handle.
forget that joker of a crossroads I was paralyzed at
I'd end up inside that dungeon she concocted, but I swear to god it would feel like a home. Knowing I would in fact be eaten alive would feel particularly calming.
No more block ice thudding at my scull, no more horrific shame of continual circular migration paths in and out of desperation. Each time returning being met by no one.
Let me just eat this stupid house and then the house eats me.
Let the story end just as it did before- inside all the houses that imploded on the frenzied groping children
The blasted minds numb and ringing from all the searching and a wanting that pulls down so hard you literally can't feel gravity, and UP no longer has a meaning.
Just let the candy house stand empty, freeze over and become a testament to all the horrible places we tried to find to hide from this.
And there are none.
And the only thing left it to believe in is god. God is much bigger that gumdrops. God doesn't even know what gum drops are.
When I leave this cracked body I will forget what gum drops are too, god-like, I will let go of everything, because somehow
the suffering will seem little, but the forest will take on a new language.
Anything green and swooshing around the earth will be decoded
bigger, perfectly, orderly, divine.
While I'm still breathing
I'll keep trying
To harbor this vantage point
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