I’ll have to write this quickly. On duty tonight and won’t have time to come back for a post.

I spent time with old friends last night. It is always fun to catch up and remember the good old times, look forward to making new memories.

For the first time yesterday, I watched the sunset over the bay. I watched the crowd over the entertainment park and felt a profound sense of gratitude for the beauty we are allowed to witness. Everyday we have access to something like that, weather permitting: a moment of perfection to suspend all other distraction.

We also resolved, as friends, to say yes more, to put ourselves out there and to fall in love. Will it be the year at last for that?

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I got home too late to post this one. 

In the morning I watched Sherlock, then I took the dogs out. I hadn’t done that in a while. Walks are always so refreshing. I thought of my life and my work, in particular, underachieving. Is there still time to change that? If I’m lucky and life stretches out before me forty to fifty more years, there really still is a lot of room for enlightenment. 

How do I muster the conviction?

It was a bumpy day. Although there was no traffic, I was late. In my lateness, I forgot the most important things I needed to perform my duties for the day (for which there was only me to do them, hence, no one to borrow from). Further, I did not have time to pack lunch and was destined to starve because everything in the hospital was closed; not to mention I was stuck in the restricted area.

I thought to myself, what an awful start to the year. Then I called my friend to pick up my things from my car and another to buy me lunch on his way to his post. Some time in between, the nurses invited me to their pantry party and fed me. All these got me to thinking again, on this first day of the year, stumped by the chaos of my weaknesses, I discovered sources of help, even in unexpected places.

Near the end of my shift I was once again thrown off by the news that our housekeeper has not come home from her day off. Worried about her welfare and the burden of the next few days without a cleaner, dogsitter, cook, laundryperson, I was instantly in a panic. Nothing to do but press on, and find strength where I thought there was no more. I do hope she’s okay. She is still out of reach.

Hello 2014. I feel like, more than ever, although I’ve said it many times before, I am actually standing on the precipice of a very vast and daunting space of dark and unknown emptiness. I know that I cannot keep going blindly and that I must find in myself some light to cast.

My dog is even more ill today. He is hardly moving and he is throwing up everything he eats.

I was watching something the other day where one of the characters emphasized that one part of farm life is accepting that life and death are all part of the same cycle. I should try and understand that more.

In a moment of desperation I thought of giving up my dog for adoption to someone who would take better care of him in his illness. But that would be selfish. He gave me a lot of joy and if he is to die, I should help him in this too.

I want to try to write everyday. Today it will be about the things that worry me.

I am worried about my dog. He has been lethargic lately. I am worried that my dog that just died may have harbored a parasite, and it is only manifesting itself in my other dogs now. I do not know how to make him feel better.

I am worried about giving up, and not allowing myself to love again, because of my dog that died. I am worried about not knowing how to love, or to be hurt, or to be human at all.

I am worried about my friends, and how little I care. I feel myself floating in a haze, disconnected, and I am worried that I am too tired to find my way and forge the old connections.

I am worried about being tired, tired all the time, of everything, of everyone. I am worried that I am not myself, and that I do not know how to be that anymore.

photopinI look forward to the time that I can breathe freely around you. I know I will get better. I know I will stop feeling this way.

The breaking of my heart is a passing thing. This is my path now, to walk with a dying love, stillborn, unviable. Stop all the efforts to resuscitate. I have had enough with prolonging the pain.

photo credit: Thomas Hawk via photopin cc

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I am entering that phase where rejection has become necessary and pulling him out of my system feels like an exorcism of sorts.

That afternoon, the calm I used to bask in was suddenly gone and his mere presence was an earth-shattering disturbance that required all my deliberation to ward off. My heart raced to a speed that I could not bear with a force I could not endure. “Stop, enough” became a mantra that worked for a while to quiet my inner torment; but the struggle was wearisome.

Within a few hours, my agitation grew and my will weakened. In still chaos the air around me became thick and oppressive. Adrenaline flooded my blood until sitting still became impossible. In a snap, something pushed me to run, to flee, and to catch my breath and my resolve that had precipitously forsaken me. Without thought except to force air into my lungs, one foot fell before the other as tears uncontrollably flooded my eyes. I lost all hold over myself and I was filled with shame for this failing.

Then I realized that I was literally lost. Other people began to populate my world again, in particular those who might be worried that I have disappeared. I regained the concept of space and time, of where I was and where I needed to be. Keenly, I felt the solid earth beneath me, the cool air around me, and a new calm entered me.

It is not our time. He is not mine. He may never want me. I find these thoughts more palatable now, although it stings now and then. Our conversations in my mind have ceased and I think of him less, or at least I can now bring myself to stop the reel. I don’t want to be angry and I want to stop running. I want to stop tainting this with my sharp selfish desire. I want to stop holding on to the possibilities I have created in my head of what he and I could become.

It is not our time and time is something he and I may never have. I wonder if I should be the more assertive one, if I could move things along in our favor. Then I remember that that is not the love that I want.

I think that I want love to come to me in languid slowness, at the exact same rate I am prepared to unravel.  In love I want to learn patience and trust and perhaps some kindness. I have never been the fighting type; I am done with clawing and raging. I want love to tread quietly, to whisper in my ear, “I have come.”

photo credit: Alison Christine via photopin cc