It’s one of those nights – worked at the Ark painting until almost 1 AM and now I’m exhausted but can’t seem to make it to bed. My brain is on full tilt boogie and shouting about 100 different things at me. So let’s see if I can get rid of some of this so maybe a few hours of sleep can be had before the sun raises its head.
This past week with my father, needless to say, brought tons of things out in me, not all good, not all bad. I realized in the middle of it that I need to learn how to handle difficult situations without turning to someone else to make me feel better or to help put away the pain or emotion or whatever. It’s okay to say, hey, I’m hurting, I’m sad, I need to talk. But I think I got used to dumping out emotions without looking at them to see what they mean or why I feel them. I wasn’t getting any response to my needs, my emotions, my wants so I just would blurt them out then put them away. Inevitably, they would escape and create chaos. Now I’m beginning to see that I need to curl up with them, examine them and see what they bring me, see what they tell me about myself. Then, maybe, if I do reach out to someone, I can reach out in a more concise, specific way so my needs can be expressed and tended to instead of just aaaauuuughhhhh, which is not a whole lot of help.
Even though I felt myself drawn to my ex recently, I really see how much I left him behind and really don’t want to go back to that. He’s not a bad guy. I hope he finds some growth in this but it’s not up to me to help him grow anymore. I appreciate that he still cares and he’s been wonderful to my parents through this whole health drama. But it’s too little, too late. I wanted to turn to him because it was familiar, but familiar for all the wrong reasons. He couldn’t help me then, he’s certainly not going to be able to help me now.
I thought I would mourn the end of my marriage longer. Somehow, I thought it would be so much harder. Not that it’s been easy. And I still have tough nights. I found one of his notes from a rose he gave me in a box tonight and it brought me to my knees. But I was ready to move on so long ago that I think I did all the mourning and pining for what we had while we were still together so that now, it’s just the closing of the wounds now and trying to see what I can learn from this so the next time won’t become so conflicted.
And I’m now watching those I love struggle with their own relationships, trying to figure out what’s next, where to go, should they stay, how long, what do they want. I don’t know if it’s the phase of the moon or that time of the year, but such transition seems to be underway right now. It’s hard to watch this struggle but I know it’ll all be for the best in the end. It has to be, right? Otherwise, why would we change things?
Change has been on my mind a lot lately. Change of residence, which, thankfully, did not happen. Change of employment, which is looking up. Change in creativity, channeling it elsewhere. Change in relationships, which ones have gone away and why, which ones are here and in transition and why, which ones are hovering in the air. I feel a major change coming but I’m not sure what that is. I’m intrigued by the thought of another city, starting over where no one knows me, I can be whoever I want to be. I guess it’s my sister’s influence, she’s moved a lot. But I’m not sure she’s always found what she wanted in those moves. The last one, to Minneapolis with her current husband, seems to be right for her. I almost admire her ability to just pack up and start over again. Although there are so many things to keep me here – the Ark mainly, the film coming soon, such good, good friends. But the anchor, the reason to stay, is not there. And no promise of it on the horizon. I thought there was something but, again, I guess I was wrong. Something to put in the mixer that is my brain and see where it ends up.
Tracey said it tonight – I just want someone to go home to. But with the caveat that it doesn’t have to be every night. I thought, that’s just about right. Someone you can curl up with a couple of nights a week, catch up on some TV, watch a movie, make dinner, just be together. But not every night. I’m beginning to embrace nights alone, finding things to do that are not just “make busy” things. Time to focus on things for “Cinderella,” time to just focus on me. I’m starting to not fear nights alone. But a couple of nights with someone, with maybe a phone call now and then in between, that wouldn’t suck. Nothing serious but, yet, not exactly casual. I guess that’s just about impossible but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?
Anyway, I should go scrape some of the paint off of my exposed skin and maybe see if I can close my eyes and quiet the clowns for a while. Twyla’s anxious to climb into bed and settle in. I guess I should accommodate her. After all, she’s the one who shares the bed with me. Okay, that sounds wrong but it’s true.
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