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Im tired today. I guess post op has caught up with me. The day I was supposed to spend convalescing was spent sitting at a windy ballpark watching a lot of anxious little girls tryout for league softball. But I was sitting so that counts, right? The desire to go out on the field is strong, but the common sense kicked in for once. I have never been good at one day at a time. I guess I have turned over a new leaf. It was a good day even though I didn't get to do it exactly my way.
As much as I sometimes wish, I can't change time. But time has change me. It doesn't seem fair but that’s the way it is. I look back at where I have been and what I have done. I want some of it again. I want some of it to disappear. I’m trying. Trying something new. Well not really new, just something I haven't tried in a very long time. I am going to try to live in my time. I will not fight it or try to bend it. Sometime the hardest part is just giving in.
Reach into me and touch my wounded heart. Take my fears and worries. Listen for my weakness and failure and understand why I am. Forgive me for my anxious rants. Heal my self loathing. Rebuild my confidence. Accept me for what I am. Make me feel you understand me like no one else ever has. Want me still, with all my troubled baggage. Make me feel whole again. Lift me up above all else. Allow me to do the same for you. While waiting for you time stands still. While holding you time flies. While worrying after you time creeps.
My mind is starting to numb. I can hear the low hum of exhausted ringing my ears. I feel the dull ache of excess. I know I have, once again pushed it just a little to far. I keep the face. I maintain the necessary appearances. I push forward. I have to keep up the momentum. I reach past my comfort. It’s not insufferable, but makes the day long. A second wind. A rejuvenation. The return of the concentration. Closing in on completion. Almost there. Just a bit more. One more corner to turn and then I can relax.
I am really not interested,
but listen to me.
I am not willing to sacrifice all that I have,
but I want to touch you.
I am not able to ultimately commit on any level,
but I have to say I do enjoy you being you.
I am not sure about all of this,
but I am excited to see you.
I am not ready,
but I miss you in your absence.
I am not sure how I feel,
but with you I know I do feel.
As the last fifty seconds tick away on the clock, I watch her. Finishing her season cheering her team to, ultimately, their final victory. She sits on the sidelines. She watches and encourages. She maintains an unusually positive outlook no matter what the pending outcome may be. She is a true sportsman. She embodies the title like few ever have. She truly understands the team mentality and spirit. If she sits the whole game, she is still a part of it, even if it is making sure that water is ready for others during time outs. She is my hero.
You pull away but your fears are unfounded. Things change no matter how you live or what you do. It cannot stay the same. If you do not allow it to grow, you will ultimately snuff the life out of it all. In your fear of change you set the stage for your failure and an entire defeat. Embrace it and grow. Live and learn. Be better then you were yesterday and hope you continue through your tomorrow. It simple. Open yourself up, grow, and thrive. If you can learn to embrace this, you win and you can cultivate others.
As a child I seem to remember that days went on forever. It took a number of lifetimes before I was old enough for first grade. I thought that my first Christmas break from school lasted for months. Even as I grew, school years seemed to go on for centuries. I waited an unbearable amount of time to graduate high school, then college. Now it seems there are not enough hours in the day, not just at work, but even at home or visiting with friends. There is so much to say and never enough time. Damn weekends are short
I feel your eyes study slowly across me. I hear the fear in the attempt at a strong steady voice. I understand the reservation in the questions. Together for years, working side by side. Believe that things can change. Have faith those old habits can be modified, or even transformed. You know it is not only your fault. It is not your badge to wear. Don't hide from it. Don't create a new world to be safe in. Your fantasy takes you further from the truth. One day your bubble will pop and you will need a place to fall.
Before you stands a beaten man. Before you lays his pride, his dignity, his scattered self. Self-confidence stolen, self-worth diminished, his being in question. His face burns with the anguish of embarrassment, his temple pulses with anger, fear, and passion. His voice remains calm and steady as his wounded heart beats in triple time. His answer short but controlled and directly to the point. His face lifeless, but with contained emotion, all the while his insides twist and boil with the bitter pain of failure and disappointment. All this while you say “Don't worry it will be fine….”
I am cold through. My bones ache. My hair hurts. My entire existence has been metabolically slowed to a ridiculous pace. I remember the time when I loved the cold. I looked forward to ice and potentials for snow. I once spent New Years in Mercer Wisconsin. A small town that you had to go straight to hell and take the second left to get to. The highest temperature was -18 degrees. The lake was frozen over and you could drive across it to get to the bar. Your breath froze the hair on your face. I cant any more
Art auction. Interesting work. I don’t often make the time to stare into the world as other see it. I told a friend recently it was my job to show her the world though my eyes. Today I defiantly got to see someone else’s vision. The images ranged from thoughtful and simple, or delicate and subdued, to bold and exciting. In the past, I have seen opening that were art for the sake of being artful. They bored me to tears and left me feeling like I needed to shower. Tonight I experienced something different, fresh, and exciting.
A lifetime spent at the mercy and call of your own reputation. A lifetime spent indentured in self-chosen servitude. A lifetime spent doing the thing you knew absolutely no one else would or could do. Were you wrong? Did you set your self up for the incredible fall? Is the perceived damage really as devastating as you feel it is? Is your pain self-chosen? The real questions here after you really think about all that has happened is, did you really fall as far as you think and would you do it over again? Only time can answer.
The leaves have fallen long ago. The bare branches wave gently, slowly angulating in the rhythm of age and flow. The brittle twigs snap and fall to the ground unnoticed. The rough outer skin scars from the years of battling the hard winds of times and the unrelenting and never ceasing beating of the elements. And yet still, days come where the beauty flows out every stem. The sway still draws the eye of those who adore the splendor that gracefully presents itself with age, those who understand how the seasons, although often relentless, bring strength and a deeper adoration.
For as long as I can remember I understood that everyday that passed brought me closer to the end. In the early years I panicked. I knew every breath was one less my body would be able to use and every heartbeat ticked off one more in the finite number it was metabolically designed to have. I searched endlessly for the answer. I tried to ignore it. It finally took the passing of many friends to realize, you won't be gone until the last person who can speak your name or recall a fond memory has drawn their last breath.
Sometime the hardest part is just giving in. At this moment you won't win. It won't change no matter how you try. So you learn to give in. Not give up... give in. Giving in is not quitting. No, it is far from that. It is allowing the situation time to breath. It’s allowing the other parts time to look and see the pros and cons of the current state of affairs. It might be as simple as accepting the solution you proposed may not be so far fetched or the idea that you not so bad after all.
Bel was aware of the ear buds in his ears. They felt inhibiting while listening to Neil sing “Cinnamon Girl”. He buffed the silver finish to a high gloss. He could see himself in the reflection. He was trying to concentrate on the three steps he had been learnt. One…. Deep cleansing breaths. They helped to relax you and kept your head clear. Two…look at your aspiration with both eyes open, it was the only way to be sure you had the right goal in site. Three…. squeeze the trigger slowly, don't jerk. ” …every night with my Cinnamon Girl.”
The days are passing still at break neck speed. I barely have time to think. I am working harder not smarter. I keep rolling this around in my brain. I don’t understand how someone who will be seeing the same things as I do and making the same recommendations will be able to carry this task further then I can. I believe there are things I will not understand. I have accepted my challenge and try to put on my good face. I am forced to trust that this is the best thing. So for now, onward and upward.
Deadlines loom and arrive so quickly you can only hope your planning was sufficient and covered it all. Retirement is right around the corner and sounds so good, but I cant be that old yet. As I child I could not wait to be big enough. Big enough to ride a bike. When I was a teen I could not wait to drive. Then there was old enough to buy my own booze. It is so different now. I want it to slow down so I can at least remember some of it. I don’t want to fade away.
In my job I have been told there are three and only three positions for success. You can lead, follow, or get out of the way. As much as I despised the individual who delivered this management philosophy, I often think about it. I chose to do a little of each. I struggle with need to take charge when no one else will. I stand beside those I trust and welcome their guidance and help. I step out of the way of the train wrecks that are so prevalent in my profession. He was an asshole, but he was right.
Believe it or not it is a choice. Often it’s a difficult one to make. There are days when you don't feel like it or sometimes it is just easier to let it go. There are also days when you just don’t have the energy to push yourself into that place. You can't force it on others, but you can be influential in the way they are when dealing it as well as dealing with it. It does make the day go better. It can bring so much perspective to it all. But you always have a choice.
It has been another long and unusual day. I was at one of the places I enjoy the most, but the weather is bizarre. It is cold again, bone chilling cold. Not life threatening. It is the cold that creeps in on you and before you know it you have a chill you can't shake. No matter how many layers you put on, it has already taken hold. When you finally get home you climb in a hot shower to try to knock of the bite and then realize that you're outside feel better but your bones are still cold.
Alone I sit, as I often do, wondering. Thinking about what will happen or where it will all end up. I play the scenarios in my head over and over, practicing the dialog, refining it so that it will be perfect. It is so funny how few times the dialog has ever truly fit the real situation. But the times that it has felt so empowering. So I am actually a fifty-year-old man who still daydreams about how his world will work. I never dare tell a soul but I regularly wonder if I am the only one.
Her touch, the soft caress of her hand on my face. The feel of her body against mine. My hands embracing her creamy skin. The taste of her lips on mine. Her eyes closed never opening. Telling me that it all feels like a perfect dream that she never wants to wake from. I need her, and she me. I want her, and she me. I worship at her feet, taking in with every sense. Hours I spend with her, for her, only because of her. It seems like yesterday and a hundred years ago all at the same time.
We always said that bad things came in threes. I don’t know where we got that idea but it sure has stuck with me a long time. What always worried me about it were those times when you had four or five things all going south at the same time. Was it three plus a few more or was it two sets of three with something about to bust loose all over the place? I thought three was supposed to be a lucky number? My third has fallen into place, the dryer has gone south. Hope that’s it....
I am cold again. A chill I can’t shake off. I lie in my bed alone. I think of the cold and the rain and the ache of being alone. Tonight I share my chill with a wool blanket and an old quilt. Sometimes I long for the warmth of someone else to share. Someone who will be there when the anxiety shakes me in its cold grip, taking hold of me at my most vulnerable. A body to feel when I reach out in the night. Someone who would share some warmth with me when I am cold.
As a child I vaguely remember my father holding me up at the casket of my grandfather, his father, and telling me to kiss pawpaw goodbye. He told me, and my siblings, that pawpaw’s time had passed and now he was moving to a better place. He lifted each of us up and for the last time I saw my grandfather. He looked old, tired, and dead. I was confused, upset, and mortified. This, for me, started my fears of slipping away. It took months after that for me to feel comfortable leaving the house even with my parents.
We were devout Catholics, so we were in church every Sunday. I realized one day when I was feeling sick in church that what made me sick was seeing the body of a man, dead, hanging on the wall. My first anxiety attack was in a pew in my family’s church. I remember how I felt. I was scared, and I felt very alone. I could not stay. I had to get out. I was in a panic when I begged my mother to let me go home. It took a minute, but she conceded and brought me home.
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