NJM7: Crisp Clarity in November
It is early in the morning, 2:24 a.m. to be exact, and I am restless and jittery thanks to the late night talks and copious amounts of coffee. I sent a message to Brandon today to clear up the mess of the last conversation; his texted response showed that I used the right words. I asked for Tuesday to talk and he agreed, all that’s left is clearing up my feelings enough to put them into concise, tolerant paragraphs.
I tried to explain the sense behind the action to Dustin, but his mind is trapped in a box of misery and endurance; he puts up with Brandon’s presence to make me happy, and I am grateful for it and tell him so, even if his pain makes my throat stick and my eyes burn. I told him that this is my last ditch effort to see if there is anything worth saving in the relationship with Brandon. I cannot leave things a mess and I think it’s my cleanliness OCD because I must leave on a clean note, always. I am looking for Brandon’s validation, only in the way that it means my feelings and thoughts matter to him; if I do not get this, I will leave without a backwards glance, with the floor already clean and my conscience guilt-free and my contentedness restored. His lack of presence shouldn’t faze me too much, as I had enough in my life to sustain me. Friends that do care, and matter. I want him to matter but I cannot force him to; he can only matter to me if I matter to him. His choice, his actions will scream at me and I will listen. Finally. And that’s enough.
I am listening to "First Breath After Coma" and it is soothing and enlivening all at once. For the first time in years I feel alive, and somewhat in control. I am controlling the things I can and letting go of the things I cannot. I am learning to love even though it is a painstaking and slow-paced process. All I need is time, and everything will sit in my hands. I am believing, I have hope, I am embracing change as well as someone of my caliber can. It is confusing and wonderful and sharp, like the first breath of Winter after Fall begins to slumber. It is all new but not too scary; I always set myself up for something so intense and crazy and painful and it turns out to be less than what I had thought.
Love is beautiful. Life is beautiful. Sometimes I get angry and scared and sad but in the end, I am always OK. And that’s OK. I am not owned by my pride anymore; indeed, pride is a useless thing that serves only to let me hide. I am tired of hiding my face….the sun cannot reach my hiding place. I crave the sun, I always have, but I was too afraid to take risks. My skin is thick enough now. I will feel pain and I will let it escape my lungs in tear-choked words…I will lay vulnerable under another’s gaze. It may hurt but at least I tried. I am always vulnerable anyway, I’ve just stopped pretending I’m not. You can only pretend strength for so long, until you finally become strength. And then you realize strength is actually vulnerability….like a sheep in wolves’ clothing.
I wish for snow, not because I like the cold, but because I like the crisp air that clarifies sight. I like the soft dance of flakes on my eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, and laughing mouth. My hair will be dark and my clothes soft and warm and Dustin’s hand will be right on my back and I will laugh at the snowflakes, laugh at the world, laugh at myself….because I can.
Because I can.
Love,
Amanda