Late Sunday Morning Conversation

I had a conversation earlier tonight revolving around love and commitment.

As theoretical a conversation as it was (at the time), I quite enjoyed it… it showed me once again how different people experience and interpret things depending on their particular life choices and circumstances. And it was eye-opening. Plus, for something potentially resembling a land mine subject, it felt like a late sunday morning conversation

You know the kind right?

…Over coffee (or tea in my case), feet up on the coffee table or curled underneath you as you peer over your cup while watching someone (else) cook a late breakfast…

… Easy flowing, maybe some hiccups here and there, but essentially something that left me feeling … curious. And that is always good thing in my book.

I’m not going to elaborate at this point what the conversation was about.

All I’m going to say is I’m left smiling at the memory of it.

 

A Gift

My heart, soul, and mind have been in turmoil these past week or so.

Things ended. Or did they?

If they did… then the road ahead of me, while difficult at times, should be free and clear of doubt.

But doubts I had plenty of.

I doubted my own memories.

I doubted my capacity to love.

I doubted my strength.

In the midst of all that confusion though, I saw a gift laid down before me.

But it required something of me.

It required something that I was not ready to give up yet.

It required something that I have held on to.

Hope.

Hope that things will go back to the way they were.

They say hope is the last to go.

And when it left, there was no farewell party to send it off.

I almost missed it, were it not for the fact that I noticed… I felt lighter somehow.

It left quietly, slipping past my fingers like fine sand.

As I watched it leave I sighed, waved a quick goodbye, and managed a small but genuine smile.

Because hope floats, still.

Just not for the same thing.

Some things you have to let go, so you can move on to build and create something better in its place.

Start over.

Sure. It may not be easy from time to time.

But starting over is really not all that bad.

Not when you keep your hopes up for something better.

So. Do I know what that is?

What that something better is?

You know what, I actually do.

And that, is a gift I’m now ready to receive.

Big Girls Don’t Cry

Well. Hello there.

Long time, eh?

I know. I’m sorry about that. I purposely stopped writing. I wanted to live out the things I was experiencing and “process” them in the moment.

I flew… I soared… I saw many beautiful heart wrenching sights… I heard many a love sonnet whispered in the wind.

I flew.

And the higher I flew, the more I realised, there were things down below that I didn’t see at first. There were things that I needed to pay attention to. At first I resisted, opting instead to flap my wings harder, defiant of gravity and all that it implied.  Then all my flapping tired me out and I found myself gliding back down and slowly settling in on the ground, looking up at where I came from and looking around me at where I actually was. It wasn’t an unexpected drop. If anything… I saw it coming.

I saw it coming and thought I didn’t have the strength in me to do…what I know to be right.

To silence and soothe that voice within me that says (and still says), “it’ll be ok if only you work harder at it”.

Because sometimes, working harder at something is just not the answer.

So while yes, I could stay. I could work harder. I could love more. I could.

But I’m choosing not to.

Instead I’m choosing to go back to square one.

Sometimes we have to go back to the basics.

Even at the risk that what we’re letting go of now, will no longer be there. Maybe that’s a good thing though. Maybe we need to let go of something first to be able to create something better in its place. Someday. Maybe.

I flew. And for now I am a little tired.

But hope floats still.

In the meantime, while I don’t necessarily think “big girls don’t cry”, truth is, I haven’t been able to shed a tear. Even when my heart feels like it’s been been thru a meat grinder. At first I thought my experience has numbed me to the point that I am now able to shed invisible tears. But the more I sink down and settle into things, the more I realise, I can’t cry over something I feel happy about.

I know, seems conflicting. Ah, but we’re human. We can experience conflicting emotions.

I feel sad things ended. And that they ended the way they did.

I feel happy things ended. And that they ended the way they did.

Go figure (insert wry self-deprecating smile here).

For now, I leave you with this song. Big Girls Don’t Cry by Fergie.