LogicallyLocked

The way your fingers trace my every curve, and dance along each and every follicle arranged on my body. Creating patterns that can only be seen by those privy to the knowledge of the light of love. The feel of your energy intertwining with mine as we dance together in that not so subtle sensual way. This is the feeling I long for when we’re apart. The touch of your fingertips, your embrace, the way you make my molecules vibrate as if they’re going to take off in 1,000 different directions all at once. The reverberation of my heartbeat against your chest, I can almost feel it now at the thought of you. Please don’t stop, love; continue to be mine. Please don’t ever deprive me of the effervescent feeling created when we’re together. It seems to be one of the strongest anchors keeping me tethered to this earth. And I have no inclination to go floating off into the heavens alone, I need your tether dear. Your anchor. Tied to my heart.

I’m bobbing on the waves of the squall. I’ve given myself over to the motion of the ocean and have decided to roll over on my back and start to float. When all of this is over I’ll be someplace completely different. Taken far from where I started by the current of a changing, angry and violent sea. And I will be forced learn to live in my new location and adapt to my new surroundings as I recover from my perilous journey. Just as any castaway might need to learn to live all over again, I too shall be a new pupil of the world.

I’m fortunate to have loved ones by my side, floating near me as we bounce along, drifting aimlessly from where we started. Knowing full well that the new destination will be wrought with change and many obstacles. I’ve tethered them to my body with life rings so that they may rest well we we traverse this ocean I’ve lost us in, but I know that I’m always welcome to attach myself to one of their life rings should I feel the depths of the sea pulling me downward.

We may be floating, bobbing and occasionally swallowing too much sea water; but at least we are all floating along together in the same spot. And for that I am eternally grateful.

Alone she stood, contemplating the decisions she’d made that brought her to this spot. The place where they had met. Why did she come here? Knowing it would only cause pain and anxiety. She needed to let go of this fear, and this seemed to be the most plausible answer. The memories were awful. Searing into her consciousness and begging to become permanent. NO! She thought. Not again. Not this time. Not for this man, this was for her.

Slowly, as if by some divine force, she could feel this asshole divinity egging her on from the sidelines chiding her on, and so she finally began to move. Closer to the edge of the bridge. A thing she’d never have been able to do with him there. He paralized her, the way he would look at her like she wasn’t capable of making the decision on her own. She could almost hear him taunting her as she stepped closer to the ledge. Just one step and she’d be flying. One step and he’d be the farthest thing from her mind.

Just take a deep breath, she thought. One, two…no, not yet; her heart caught for half a beat as she exhaled thinking of the fall, the way it would make her stomach take up residence in her feet. That fall, so similar to what she felt when she met him. The feeling of inertia, the universe pushing two souls together. She wanted to feel it again. But this time for her. She needed to make her soul whole on it’s own. She wanted to feel the change in her soul because it was her choice, not some reckless deity showing her false promise of love only to provide her with more pain.

It would have to be quick. She’d need to just do it or she never would. Slowly edging her feet closer to the ledge she began to count again. One, tw…STEP! Off the ledge and suddenly she was flying. Falling, the breeze whipping past her face as she sailed through the air. Her stomach didn’t disappoint. She could feel it relocate to the base of her body, and it felt amazing. Finally to be free on her own terms, something she had been needing to feel for far too long. Throwing her arms out to the side, it felt almost as if she had taken flight, become a beautiful bird. All pain and anger gone, there was only the fall and the flight. Only the rearranging of atoms in her body becoming a new woman. She could feel the change all the way down to her soul, almost as if finally she had been let out of her cocoon. It was her turn to change this time, her turn to become.

Suddenly the tightness set in, all the way down in her ankles, wringing around and taking hold. Something begging her to come back. Reality calling from above. her head snapped back and forth as the bungee cord tightened around her feet and whipped her back skyward.

This is freedom she thought. Overcoming the fear and learning to live for herself. Never again, she promised, as she slowly started to bounce and dangle on the cord. never again would she live for anybody else. From this day forward she was finally free.

So, The Dude’s daycare does these really cute “plays” for the holidays, and today they did one for Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong, I love that they have him stand in front of everyone and sing and it really is one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. BUT when this kind of thing goes on all I can think is…

‘great, I get to come in watch about 3-5 minutes of cute and then wrangle my kid, try to keep him quiet for the rest of the production with all the other classes, keep him in check while we stand in line so we can eat whatever food you guys have provided, manage not to piss of every other mom in the area because I’m “alternative” looking, AND I get to take him home early?!’

This is not relaxing. I appreciate the sentiment, but this sort of thing is so incredibly stressful for me.

Please don’t mistake my laziness and apathy with stupidity.

I keep trying to say I’m stronger than this. But what if I’m not? What if it breaks me?

Have you ever seen an apple (or any fruit really) with a scar? I don’t mean the kind that’s “healed” over with new skin, I mean the kind that was too deep to repair. It’s started to mold and whither slightly but only in that one spot. When you cut it out the rest of the fruit is perfectly fine. It’s almost as if the fruit had no idea it was scarred, it just kept on doing what needed to be done. It’s easy enough to cut the scar away and eat the fruit, and it doesn’t even affect the flavor or texture. Now imagine this happening to your heart, or even your soul. Carrying on like you had no idea anything was wrong. And then one day someone comes along and cuts away the scar. You’re left with freshly exposed flesh, but you don’t mind because you know that finally you’re going to be able to completely heal. No more mold, but a new scar, a cleaner cut, one you were ready to receive. It may take some time, but you will heal, and you will be better for it.