Love letter

I will write
the love letter
filled with my heart
and my soul,
words said and
words unsaid and
words that should have been said
last night.
All the truth,
all the fear,
all the all.
And I will seal it up
inside my heart
probably never to see
the light of day.
And I wonder
if you will ever find it,
ever care
to even look?

I get to choose

One thing I learned from dealing with cancer is that I get to choose. I get to choose how to deal with things, I get to choose if I even want to deal with things. I get to choose whether to wallow or whether to let things go. Sometimes you have to do both. Not at the same time, though. That'd be weird.

I find myself once again in the center of change. Good change, mostly. I have become the program director at my art studio where I've been teaching for the past almost six years. Which means I'm in charge. Which is a bit scary. I haven't been in charge of anything but me for the past eight years. But it means financial security, stability and all those things.

And as always, I've been struggling to adjust to the new schedule. More hours at the studio, complicated by having to take the bus. Suddenly, my own time is cut short. I'm beat when I get home because my body is still in recovery from treatment. And I find myself depressed because I'm so tired and I can't get to do what I want to do. Pout, stamping feet, temper tantrum.

And the Filmmaker has pulled away. Avoiding me. Obviously doesn't want to see me right now, for whatever reason. More pouting, more stamping of feet.

But this morning, I remembered - I get to choose. I get to choose how I handle all of this.

And this is what I choose.

1. You, my dearet Filmmaker. My heart. My soul. The one I would give everything for to find you at my doorstep, telling me I'm your heart and your soul. But obviously, that's not going to happen. And while that's difficult for me to accept because I still feel you in the depth of my heart and my soul, in those unguarded moments when you let yourself think about me, I am choosing to let you go. I won't chase you anymore. I won't shed any more tears over you. Maybe this is moot because maybe you've already left me in your wake. But now it's time for me to leave you in mine. I will never forget or regret a single moment with you because you gave me so much. But, my love, my heart, good-bye.

2. I choose not to get overwhelmed. I am still in recovery and I am still struggling physically to get through these new challenging days and the demands of the new position. But I love this job and I'm thrilled to finally be here. So I choose to make it work without giving in. I will draw boundaries when I can so I don't wear myself out. I choose to enjoy the new opportunities, not get swallowed by them.

3. I choose to not be afraid. I'm been very afraid for the last year and a half, for some very good reasons. But now, I'm choosing to leave the fear behind. It's only going to hold me back. So whether it's fear of this new position and if I can handle it, or fear of really truly losing the Filmmaker, or fear of reaching out to the couple of new guys who maybe kinda dig me, I choose to banish the fear and charge headlong into the breech. Choose to put my heart out there again to maybe find someone to bring new memories and new beautiful moments to my life. Choosing to walk away from the fear.

4. I choose to get my life back. Taking over my studio is one step in that direction. It will give me stability, it will give me consistency, especially financially. But creatively, I also need to get back to my other love - directing. I haven't really directed in almost two years. And now I want to really get back into it. I have someone who may be willing to go along for the ride, so I'm hoping it'll work out. My life isn't complete without directing, as much as my art consumes me. I still ned that other side to be filled.

5. I choose to remember I am human. And to set boundaries. And not feel like a failure because my body is only about 60% of what it was. I choose to build it back up, but I know it'll take a while.

6. I choose to be happy. Peaceful. I've spent so much time in the dark in the past year and a half, despite the love and beauty around me. But losing a year of my life, and losing my parents, and losing my heart, all that left me empty and hollow and devastated. So now, I am choosing to get back to happy. Or peaceful. Or something a lot less suicidal and morbid. Maybe not sunshine and puppies, because that's never been me. But something more like cigar and whiskey. Cuz that's more me.

7. I choose to tell people I love that I love them. There may never been another chance.

8. I choose life.

So with all the thoughts of choosing, it also makes me make a list of what I want over the next year or so, as I get my life back.

1. I want to make two movies - The Wraith of Love and almost. Both are deeply personal, both are so different, but both are what I want to do.

2. I want to fall in love again. The Filmmaker showed me the world of possibility that real, good, solid, grown-up love can bring. And I want that again. Create new memories. Create a new life. Maybe find something more, something longer, something deeper. But I want that again.

3. I want to get my car back. I miss my sexy Bette and her ragtop.

4. I want to travel somewhere wild and exotic. More than Monterey or New York. Somewhere like China or London or Australia. Somewhere wondrous. By myself or with someone I love. I don't care.

5. I want... so much...

Funny that it took cancer to show me I had control of my life and that I can choose how I build it and make it work. So I need to remember that - I get to choose.

Now if only I can choose wisely...

You

You're fading.

You're choosing to fade, just like the others.

I shouldn't be surprised.

But I am.

I wish I had said.

I wish I had done.

I wish.

I'll wish
as you fade

away.