It's 2:30 in the morning, two hours after I took an Am.bien and I am watching some movie on TV that I surely can get from net.flix and watch at a decent hours. It is "Love, Actually" and I find myself oddly invested in it.
But I am sitting here, listening to C breathe and try to sleep, despite the TV and my light on and rustling around.
I've been feeling better lately, but not better. I don't know how to describe it, how to articulate this place of limbo or whatever it is.
My heart is full. When I write that, the pressure makes my eyes leak. So I guess it is not full of joy. Anticipation? Hope? No, that's not it. Fear? Maybe. Frustration? Likely.
This movie is about figuring out love and loss, I guess. that first flush of love, those unsure steps that could bring elation or humiliation. It's sweet. I'm waiting for it to fall into something cliche so I can snap it off and be annoyed with the pithy superficiality of movies, but it hasn't gotten there yet.
Me/NotMe. I am myself, beginning to heal, and yet not myself. Full of fear, afraid of hope, craving that rapture of simply enjoying a moment. And I fear that will never be again for me.
I was a child in my own head, my own world, until snapped into reality by bedtimes or homework or dead pets or 7th grade betrayals. I didn't need a prince charming anymore -- my prince met my needs, desires. He touched my heart.
I wonder how to go back to the girl who got distracted by the idea of pie for breakfast, or craved cold Chinese food for lunch. The one who would just get in the car and drive two hours to see a special place, of rolling hills and the echos of the BSO in the off season.
I'm too old. Too sad. I don't trust anyone.. I don't trust me to follow through to do what's right. I don't trust me to stick around when the going gets tough. And even though there are those who have kind, there are limits, to what you understand, what you can give me. And I don't trust that we can understand.
fucking life. fucking complicated. love. family. siblings, marriage. Children. Death. lost children. Lost hope.
Forever now? Forever? Now?
Who am I in this world. How can I find the notme that's close enough to the oldme that i can recognize her. That I can have faith in her.
But how do I get through the place where I am, so I can go to the place I used to be while incorporating the very new me who has survived all this shit;
*likely to come down in a moment of lucidity. Never fear. No permanent harm done. None we can tell yet.