I want to say that the deepness I wished to convey, what I was searching for, seems to evade me. I can almost get my tongue entirely around it, but then it disappears. I have decided that isn’t reason enough not to write.
What follows are snapshots, and may feel disjointed, but may not. In fact, these are deep in their own way. This is intimacy.
What’s inside my head,
what’s blanketed across my heart.
I have spent the last 89 days listing all the world and the words that I am grateful for. The beauty and the bad and the everything in between. My gratitude partner and I keep these words tucked in, secrets for no one’s eyes but our own. When I catch 11:11 I find myself with eyes closed, hugging myself, breathing with intention. Last night I made myself a cup of cacao on the stove, maybe the second cup I’ve ever had. I had surgery two and a half weeks ago.
The apex of the year is upon us and this always brings with it reflection for me in levels. The layers of it all are not lost on me. Christmas holidays and the feelings surrounding such loss of innocence, the stress and struggle of splitting myself into pieces to meet my splintered family where they’re at, the year-end reflections, all wrapped up amidst the precipice of another year spent. Another year rounding the sun. Born at the beginning of the year may be a benefit. All this looking happens at the same time. Needless to say, there is a lot on in my head now.
I’ve only just turned my heat on but I don’t think it’s working. Radiators don’t make much sense to me. I’m glad to live on the third floor of this sweet little castle. Heat rises, etc. I have decided I am going to re-lease. If I do stay, 2024 will be the first year in six years that I don’t move house.
I have spent the last four New Years Eves “alone.” This year I am not sure what will happen. Part of me believes that if I can dance it in like I did last year, it might stay symbolic. It might serve me. It might usher in all the bounciness I enjoyed this year. All the lights and the action and the joy.
Over the last few weeks I have looked closely at my limitations. Surgery recovery knocked me prone. Week one was the worst, and while I am still in pain and am managing diminished stamina and strength, I am searching for lessons.
I’m not going to do this downplay-my-surgery thing but after getting my septum removed and corrected and put back together, my body has had to reintroduce the pieces to their proper place — my body, my home… and that is apparently a very draining process. I do not like to be idle, isolated, or sick.
While I learn about my limitations, I also learn about my reactions. My sensitivities. What hurts that soft, gooey part of me. The part that says
No, you are not wanted
You are not important
You can't be held
You are far too much
Learning about myself all the time in fits and starts, and keeping the faith that I can take care of her feels nice. Patience with ourselves is important and so is gentleness. I am grateful to be learning these lessons now so that, in time, and with practice and attention, I can grow and learn from them.
I stopped drinking just over two months ago. I’m not sure if or when I’ll start again.
Though surgery knocked me down a few pegs, and I don’t feel much like myself, this is the way it all works. The cycles of life slam us and catch us off-guard and sweep us off our feet. We lose pieces and we gain more back. I have to believe it works this way for our benefit.
When I close my eyes I want to be back on the beach when it wasn’t too cold. When I close my eyes I want a few days of stillness. When I close my eyes I long for peace, and not only for me but for all those suffering and alone.
I feel so happy these days when I’m at home when the sun has set, and all my little lights and lamps come on. My little faux Christmas tree and my glittery lava lamp tree shimmer, and I am coming down off whatever did or did not happen that day and I am drinking tea and I am playing guitar and I am finishing a book finally and I am alone and I am thinking about writing or thinking about the trees or thinking about what I did to get here or thinking about the heart on my sleeve.
Soon I’ll be 28. I have thought about some things I have done but I have inevitably forgotten most of them. I am happy with what I remember. I do not regret my life. The way I was when I turned 27 was different than how I am now and I looked different and felt different and I had less skills and I was less fluid and maybe somehow I loved less too but still I loved a lot then. I think about the people I have met in the last year and how deeply I have sunk into this new home and these new people and what I have built for myself and this is absolutely wild but I believe with my whole being that it’s true:
I think if I rewound right now to last year and I sat down again with my ex-partner at my birthday dinner, if they had looked at me and told me that we were about to break up and then said, but look at all that is going to happen for you…
I probably would have said I love you but and I have to go. I have to start right now.
My life has shifted tremendously in a year. This is why I am not afraid to keep going. To live another year. There is so much more to see. There are so many more sunsets. If this next year is half as robust I will be grateful for that. It will be more than enough. Funny thing is though, I don’t have plans for it to be any less so than this year was. I can build more. I can nestle in more. I can buy real furniture. I can stay right where I am. I can be happy about that. I can learn about myself in the fits and the starts and stare at myself in my eyes in my mirror and be real about how much I love her. I can regard the tears in her eyes sometimes, too. I can say it’s okay. I can experience all the seasons from these windows here. I can finish my music and I can record it and I can share it with you, then. I can. I can. I can and I will.
Who’s to say if I will write again before I turn 28. This newsletter has turned into my sincere attempt to get a letter out monthly. I do wish I could be more on top of all things.
I built a poetry series. Four events in four months and people do keep coming back. I have two events in January. I built something that stands for intimacy and authenticity and home. It feels so good to do this every single time. I could cry I am so proud. I have finally, finally circled around to the part where I am proud.
I find myself wavering between a solid, sincere sense of self and harsh self-judgment. I believe this is normal. We cycle. I criticize myself a lot. I try to stop. I am always questioning or thinking or postulating. I often take thoughts and I run with them until I hit a wall. I don’t often think in a straight line. There is work to be done here and that is okay.
I wish I could tunnel into someone else’s brain and understand how they see me. I am an interesting person. I am a beautiful, multitudinous person. I am larger and more dynamic than a two-dimensional social media profile can convey to anyone. Meet me somewhere in real life. I am intimidating maybe but I don’t intend to be. I am so nice. I walk with confidence. I don’t lie. I am a prize. I am a blast. I will flit around the room. I wish I could split myself into 5 so I could talk to you… and you… and you, too. I know my worth. I am proud to report this about myself.
I have become more productive in the mornings. This comes from about 9am if I can get out of bed by then… till about noon. I am glad I don’t sleep until 11 anymore.
I would like to chase joy. I would like to do a thing until it doesn’t make me happy anymore. I would like to have more moments that make me feel like I could float clear off the ground. I would like to stop thinking so much. I would like to cause a scene. I would like to be my buzzy bouncy self and dance a whole lot. I would like to melt, and then melt some more. I would like to continue to deepen every relationship I have. I would like to live to see peace and stability all over. I would like to spend more time with my brothers. I would like to feel big, not small. I would like to fail and try again. I would like to walk through the woods and hold hands with someone who regards me as I regard the trees. With awe. Reverence. I would like to offer all the love I have in this tiny little body, this tiny little body led by the biggest heart and the biggest mouth I really cannot tell a lie or hold anything inside I just want to say everything I feel all the time and have you listen as the trees and the wind listen to one another I cannot keep a lid on it I cannot contain all the feelings I have I am proud to feel I will not stop for anything ever. I will not stop for anything,
ever.
A