Tag: writing to heal

Lost-Time for Patio Writing

Lost-Time for Patio Writing

22 April 2018

I’m not completely lost. Some days I do wonder. And on those days it feels like I’m wading, carefully stepping to avoid sinking deep down in the mud or dropping into a hole.  It’s not treading because that was part of last year.

I trust the timing and the path I’m supposed to be on…mostly. My impatience shines through on days I feel like it’s time to have more, do more, be more.

It’s hard to have conversations with people who seem more scattered than I am, and I try to hide so many things with walls up. I hide my heart, locked in steel vault so that nothing can hurt it; it’s already breaking from the days and months that are ticking with my dog. I remember the pain when I had to put my Bassett Hound down. Devastating.  The circle of life.

Rock bottom line is I think I’m more lost in my thoughts. Writing. Definitely losing myself in writing again, and it feels good. The story ideas just keep coming, and I keep writing them down.

So, the patio is now open for writing! After an exhausting month of work, that continues to eat at my soul, I was able to get 12 hours of intermittent sleep. It wasn’t a full 12 because Duke woke me up, but that’s all part of being a pet owner. We do what we have to for our pets because they are our family, and he is the one constant I come home to every day. It’s hard to resist a grin and tail wag after walking inside.

I am questioning some of the paths that are coming up soon, and I always think of Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken;” my favorite poem. My motivation extends beyond my own wants, needs, and goals; I am inspired by writers who have found themselves in situations and rise. It’s all about the timing, but until it arrives the element of feeling lost remains.

It’s a sunny Sunday morning and the wind isn’t roaring for once. However, it’s still early and they tend to arrive in the afternoons. I have my very first dinner party in my new home this week, and excited with the simple menu that includes a couple of bottles of fine wine that’s been cellared for a while. Good wine should be shared.

I am going to take advantage of the grand opening of my new patio and get down to work for several hours before I meet a friend at the movies. There is more writing to be done, more stories to be told, and stories entering the revision stage so that they can be shared with the world someday.



Affairs of the Heart

Affairs of the Heart

“So go and tell all your friends
That I’m a failure underneath
If it makes you feel
Like a bigger man.
But it’s my-
My heart, my life
That you’re calling a lie.”   Amy Lee/Evanescence “New Way to Bleed”

23 May 2017

I have been to hell and back.  I am now suffering in limbo.  Waiting.  Waiting.  The end still seems so far away.

I think back to a conversation; one of many.  Does the heart get what it really wants?  Where does logic factor in?

If I listened to my heart, it would admonish all actions, but I have to rationalize and say it only wants something from a past that has no future.  There is no future.  I can’t even begin to heal until the end point has been reached.  The splintered heart carries a sad loss.  I have found myself right back to where I was in December and January.  Shutting the world out.  No food.  No sleep.  Just feeling.  Feeling everything.  Barely breathing day-by-day.  Studies have suffered.  The taking care of myself program seems like an epic fail.

If the heart succeeds in winning, then the thrill and adventure begins.  The ideal of having two women pursuing the one man gives reasons to feel superior to others, cocky, arrogant, and believing he might be untouchable.  The thrill comes from an ideal of returning home from week-long trips, believing there’s a wife waiting, waiting to accept him back, and ready to answer messages and emails immediately.  Lies spoken about me, about “us” produced to feel better.  Lies are just that-lies.

What happens when reality closes the door on a 13 year, 9 month marriage (15 years together)?  Does the thrill and adventure continue?  If so, how long?  How can the heart betray all logic in a short 48 hour window?  There has to be some level of hate, no-loathing towards a person they vowed to love and cherish forever; the woman who sacrificed everything, leaving family and friends behind to move to an isolated small town (relatively speaking), and giving him everything, helping him to succeed as he boasts that he deliberately prevented her from pursuing any of her dreams?  There is zero remorse for the any of the actions taken. How can “this love” move at an exponential rate in six short months?  How can anyone live with themselves with the way they’ve treated another human being with such viciousness?

I have seen the dialogue.  I have seen what is being promised.  I’ve heard it all before.  It was once told to me.  Maybe I can find comfort in this.  I still do not have comfort in the speed at which things accelerated and declined.  It’s too fast to wrap my mind around it.

I do not take solace in hearing I’ll meet somebody someday.  I know friends and family mean well; they are looking out for me, care for me, but it doesn’t help me at this point in my life, in this limbo stage.  I was pushed out of hell and pushed into limbo.  Now, I feel like it won’t stop as I am trying to be pushed out of location, pushed out of time, and pushed away from everything.  I go in my own time.  I leave when I’m ready to leave.  I cannot just pack up and move on, especially not when limbo won’t let me leave; I am still being controlled, and feel the weight of stones now pushing on my shoulders to keep me under water.  I will break away from the control when I’m ready, and my existence will be enough to shout, this hasn’t been about you; now it’s really about me.  I still believe in karma.

Now I am looking at the final push in my studies.  Week 8.  I need to finish writing the last 5,000 words of my novel/thesis, and some of this discussion plays into the narrative where Natalie is concerned.  She has questions, but no answers.  She needs to figure how to move forward on her own.  That’s kind of hard to do when you’re in a coma.  How do you soul search in your own mind, especially when you’re trapped in a hospital bed?  She needs to push boundaries.

Readers are going to ask many more as they reach the last 20 pages of the book.  I only hope they have kept reading, long into the dark hours of the night, with a flashlight, or a light on in some room; not wanting to put the book down, when published.

I didn’t think I had any tears left in me.  I didn’t think I would be at this point again, after working so hard to stand up and walk forward.  This is another stumble, although I hit the ground pretty hard for it to feel more like a thunderous fall.  I have to face the world tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day.  Then I can crawl back into my own world while everyone else is having family gatherings, picnics, camping trips, and enjoying the summer weather that arrives on Memorial Day.  I’ll read books.  Write.  Go to the gym.  Take Duke for walks.  Fill in the long days, make some white noise. The many sacrifices I have made over the trail of years seems like it was one long chapter.  If I can wade through the negativity, desertion, and isolation in limbo, moving towards hope and something better, I will get there.

I have to get there because this degree was my dream, so that I could become a better writer.  I think I’m there.  To finish, I need to get back to helping Natalie.  She’s really lost, in her own limbo; at least I have the power to give her guidance to help her succeed and get to a better place.  I think the heart believes it knows what it wants.  But if things are such a big secret, then it’s not a true reality, and the heart is playing games that will result in a hefty price to pay later.