Untitled/Chiron

I am the wounded healer.

I don’t want you to feel guilty.  You couldn’t have prevented this.  Bleeding things are my weakness and your soul is made of my own.  You were a gift from the moon herself, one I could not accept. But you promised.  I have loved you before I knew who you were, before I even met me…

I cut myself open to show you

That I hurt, too

My soul dripped out

Onto your hands

And we danced…

The beginning was different.  You were not like the others, then you slowly recovered and I reluctantly discovered… it wasn’t real.  It never was, it could not be.  It’s ok.  I understand.  Many have sought my radiating light. Your morning star. Temporary.  Like a storm that rolls in after a week of beautiful sunshine, I knew this would come.  Expected.  I hoped I was wrong, hoped I could believe my dreams, hoped there was a place for us.  You promised.

In the end I will be hollow

Drained from loving

All I see in that place

Is your face

Outer space

I have learned to keep my distance.  I will learn to shut my mouth, not let it out.  Do not be seen.  They don’t like that.  Vulnerable. Be strong instead.  Amuse them, but never reveal yourself.  Do not speak of love or sadness or longing.  Albatross. A lesson.  A gift. …but he promised.

There is no heart in me

It sits, unbeating, next to you

Whatever you do

Please don’t

Throw it away

I want you to know you are different.  You are everything.  You are the resplendent beach house I could never really afford. I will miss you in the way one misses a beautiful thing that was not theirs to keep. I’ll hide the photographs on my bookshelf.  I’ll whisper your name in my sleep.  I’ll hear your voice in crowded rooms and echoes of your laughter in other universes not yet imagined. I promise.

(I love you.)

 

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Sick With Guilt

I guess it goes without saying that this blog is not my “day job”.  I wish it were, and if “likes” were money I’d be getting somewhere, but for now I work full-time somewhere else.  I just started a number of months ago, after staying home with my son for 3 years.  The decision to leave him (that’s how it felt to me) and give up cooking, cleaning, running errands, and napping during the day was a difficult one.  I struggled with it.  I cried.  Oh, there were many tears. 

But this is what grown-ups do, I told myself.  And if I hadn’t told myself, there were plenty of people making similar comments under their breath.  For me, being part of the corporate life was never a dream I had.  I’m not ambitious in that way.  I am a dreamer – a true Pisces – and I always wanted to stay home and paint, or write, or … I don’t know, run a sea turtle ranch.  So the day my husband and I decided that this was what had to happen, I felt like I died a little.

Months later, my perspective has changed only slightly.  I work with nice people.  It’s not a difficult job.  We are paying rent.  See?  Lots of positives.  (Detect a hint of sarcasm there?)  Still, I spend my extra time working on meditation, prayer, hypnosis, anything that will help improve my attitude and our financial state and allow me to come back home.  My heart cries out that this is where I am supposed to be.  It’s certainly where I’m most happy.

In my experience, freely admitting that I am different causes others to lash out.  I’ve been accused of being lazy.  Even selfish.  Family members, coworkers, friends, have made me feel at one point or another that if I’m not willing to die for my job, I’m not committed enough.  And honestly, that’s fine.  I have learned not to take others’ opinions so personally.  As a mom and wife working in the home, I busted my butt, day in and day out.  I participated with charities and clubs and was able to cook meals for my family and spend time with my kids.  Some people think that’s worth giving up.  Some people think it’s normal to sacrifice it.  I don’t.  I just… don’t.

This morning I called out of work.  (Well, texted.)  And even though I’m typing on the computer right now, I give my word that I am actually feeling awful.  I am normally a punctual, responsible person, and I start to feel sick to my stomach when I have to call out of work.  This morning upon rising I was greeted with a massive migraine (with pretty colors!)  So I had to text my boss and let her know.  I felt like I could “hear” the disappointment in her reply.  I feel so judged when I call out from jobs.  I try never to do it.  This morning, I must have forced myself to the car a dozen times, finally bursting into tears.  (My poor husband, perplexed, watched me silently from the window.  I’m sure he thinks he married a crazy person. He may be right.)

The thing that gets me, is that I was fighting my body and my own will, trying to make myself go to work, in order not to let someone else down.  I knew how bad I felt, I knew that I could not drive, but I dreaded so much the judgment of my peers that I was trying to go anyway.  I felt guilty.  WHY should I feel guilty?   It isn’t right that I feel so obligated to go to this building, spend my best hours there, so they can (barely) pay me, so I can get up and do it in the morning?  Why do I care so much if they believe me?  Why do I feel like a criminal?

It’s madness.  Do you guys do this or have you been in a similar situation?  Is it just me?  Or have you already found your perfect place, your passion, your path?  I’m reading lots lately on being present in the moment and changing your reality by changing  your mind.  That’s what I’ll work on today, along with sleep, because it’s the only thing that makes me feel better.