CyberRailGuru

would you carry me over the threshold?

would you think I’m crazy because I want to have conversations with your dad?

would you be okay when I cry hysterically?

would you cuddle with me when I want to pass out on the couch?

would you be tolerant of my late minute plans?

would you enjoy some wine with me during a sunset?

would you do the dishes if I cooked?

would you be angry when i forget to take out the trash?

would you laugh at my childhood nickname?

would you be irritated with my frugal ways?

would you sit on the beach with me and enjoy the sound of the waves?

would you like to rip off my clothes passionately?

would you be patient with me when I become neurotic?

would you stay if the clouds form again?

would you be receptive to my wanderlust?

would you still love me when I’m old?

There’s something I find relaxing and calming about a sunset.  The peacefulness of sky contradicts the constant changing of the colors.  The slow movement of the clouds, while the purple and orange and blue blend seamlessly for miles.  Doesn’t matter how great or crappy my day has been, I can find peace for the 15 minutes of the sunset.

Which is why I love flying west in the evening.   The plane chases the sunset for over an hour.  It’s extremely calming for my soul.  I can spend the entire time staring out the stupid little window of the plane, and for that time I forget my worries, and the fact that I’m shoved into an uncomfortable seat.

This week that was something I needed.  And it was a beautiful sunset, too.  But it made me ask the question: will I ever get to share my particular love of sunsets?  I started daydreaming about it… what it would be like.

Would it be on a plane like this to a week in Napa?  What about on a beach in Maui sipping drinks?  Maybe just in the backyard over a glass of Malbec?  However it happens, I just hope it does.

Hope.  A good word.  It’s what’s left when you take away everything else.

I feel full of hope these days.

So when I’m out with family and think about being with someone else I feel guilty.

Yesterday I did not. I wanted to be with someone else, seeing the same things, doing the same things, but with someone else.

I felt no guilt.

I don’t know if I’m growing closer or further apart or both. Regardless, something has changed.

I’m sitting here tonight geeking out – reading online articles about trains and model railroading. Then I thought – wouldn’t it be nice if she were here. If she were sharing this. If she were interested in this. Or at least pretended to be interested just to make me happy.

Wouldn’t it be nice.

I felt no guilt.

Things are changing.

Right now I feel comfortable. So comfortable that I’m a little uncomfortable.

It should be harder – more drama. More hate. More pain. More “stuff”.

I feel detached. Removed. Alone. Planning in silence. Planning for a future full of unknowns. Planning for the future.

That is indeed something new – planning. I waited. I sat back and watched what came my way.

Now I want to make it happen. Now I want it to start now.

I don’t know what to do. I know it will change. I know I fear the unknown. I known I’m a pussy.

I know that’s what I’m talking about.

If I had a dollar
I’d buy a house where we could live
Caring for each other
Just a place to call our home
And if we just knew wrong from right
We would not hurt we would not fight
Dream sweet dreams all through the night
Until the morning comes

If I had someone to love
I would not push I would not shove
I’d never know what lonely was
Because I’d never be alone
And if I had a hand to hold
I’d hold it tight until I grew old
And listen to your stories told
They keep me hanging on

If I had a magic charm
It would protect you from all harm
There’d be no sirens to alarm
We could stay here every day
And if I were a super hero
Good guys all the villains zero
I’d save you from all that is evil
So you can sleep at night

At some point today, I had words. I don’t anymore.  All I have left are tears.

I’m feeling like I’m being kicked while I’m already down. As if, when I can conceive of nothing else going wrong, something else does.

My best friend was there for me today, when I needed someone the most.

But I couldn’t be there for him when he needed me.  Instead, I’m sure I caused him undue grief.  Not that I directly caused it… but I did.

I shouldn’t have tears anymore.  I need to grow up and move on; I need to start being proactive instead of reactive – something I’ve tried to instill at work.

Oh work… my safe haven.  My safe haven that’s been ripped out from under me like the parlor trick of ripping the table cloth off the table.  Except in my case, all the china and glassware have been broken.

I have questions that I need answers to.  Some are more abstract; some are more concrete. I have no idea where to start though. It’s not like I have a list. Having a list would been that I have clear thoughts. I’m sure that only makes sense in my head…

I am more emotional than I want to be. I am more of a girl than I want to be. I am more needy that I want to be. And right now, these things are biting me in the ass.

I would love to keep in all in, but I know I can’t. I need to get it out.  I need to spend some time and get it out. Can you spend some time to get it out?

I had words at some point this evening… before I cried. Now I have no idea anymore. Perhaps that’s a good thing; letting go of my thoughts.

resentment (n) – a feeling of deep and bitter anger and ill-will

I was accused of resentment today. That I resent that I’m not allowed “to date”.

That is, I’m not allowed to date a particular person.

Having mulled it over, yes. I am holding resentment. I am holding resentment because I can’t be with the one I want to be with.

I resent being married. I resent being “forced” to “work it out”.

So those are the raw emotions. Is it rational?

No.

It is not rational because it is driven by emotion. A terminally strong emotion for the positive is generating a destructive negative emotion. resentment.

So, how do we reconcile the emotions?

I don’t know.

Rational: It’s not fair to not try.
Irrational: It’s not fair to not be happy.

Rational: Trying hard leads to success.
Irrational: I now know what happiness is – I want to be happy now.

Rational: Do the right thing.
Irrational: Do the right thing.

So where am I?

I don’t know.

There are no easy answers but I do know a few things.

I want to own my decisions.

I want to own my actions.

I want to own the truth.

I’m tired of lying.

I’m tired of covering up.

I’m tired of being forced to explain myself.

I’m tired.

I’m simply tired.

Where does that leave me? It is clear.

This will take time. Time will heal the pain. Time will uncover that which is covered.

Time will make this even more tiring.

I am committed to seeking the truth. I am committed to happiness. I am committed to the process.

The process will not be painless, without drama, or without it’s ups and downs.

I’m down right now. I’m ready to throw it all in and concede failure. Live with status quo and say that it is as best as it can get.

But I know that simply isn’t true. It can get better. Much better. It is better. Much better.

Good news. I know me. Tomorrow is a new day and a new outlook. I may be up, I may be in the middle. I may also be down. But I won’t be for long.

So, back to the question. Where does that leave me?

Seeking to turn me into we.

Yesterday, I received some absolute crushing news. The sort of news that makes you stop, and put life in perspective.

My dear friend lost her baby.  My friend had carried a little boy to full term.  She was scheduled to be induced today, but instead delivered her stillborn son by c-section last night.

I spent the afternoon in the hospital with her, and her husband.  But I had no idea what to say… “I’m sorry” just seems stupid.  “How are you doing” has to be the worst question.  So we just sat around for hours and cried.  But hearing your friend sob hysterically is heart-breaking.

She had asked me, of all our friends, to come and sit with her.  She said that I knew what sadness was, to lose control of your body, and bring a son into this world who was not “perfect.” I reassured her that our sons were perfect in their own way and I’m honored that she would want me to sit with her. But I have no idea what her sadness is. Yes, I know what it’s like to leave the hospital without your son.  But I knew my son would be coming home eventually. I hope I never know her sort of loss.

I came home tonight, and cried.  I realized how this puts my life, and all my hell, in perspective.

Is it 2011 yet?  Seriously… I need this year to end.

What do you do when you have feelings – intense feelings?

Feelings that you normally have while under the influence.

Feelings you now have while not under the influence.

I’ve had feelings for a while.  They were intense.  Then not as intense.  Still intense, but not as intense.

But always very intense while drinking – well, after drinking 😉

Now I have the same intense feelings.  All.  The.  Time.

Is that good?  Or is that bad?

It’s good and bad.

Bad because I need to bury them.  Good because they are still there.

Bad because it complicates things.  Good because it complicates things.

Bad because they may fade.  Good because they have not.

It’s conflicting.  Very.

I so desperately want black and white.  I want an easy answer.  I want simple.

Nothing is simple.  Nothing is easy.

Perhaps it’s not about easy or simple – it’s about making everyone happy.  I can’t do that.  Yet I want the answer to provide universal understanding, acceptance, and happiness.

Perhaps it’s about guilt – the guilt of being happy while inflicting pain?

Perhaps it’s just the fear of the unknown?

Perhaps it’s just fear.

There’s so much to still say and to talk about.  But really, there isn’t.  Everything that needs to have been said has been.  So why does it feel unfinished?

It’s okay though.  I feel okay.  It comes down to four words from my grandmother… “Let go.  Let God”

It’s good advice… advice that I should be applying to all aspects of my chaotic life right now.  I think that they are words that I’ve tried to tell myself over the last two months.  But I’m… stubborn.  😉

Tonight, it’s starting to really sink in.

“Some love stories aren’t epic novels…  some are short stories… but that doesn’t make them any less filled with love.”

It’s been a shitty, shitty month for me.  I am dealing with all of the “major crisis” issues:

• Divorce
• Selling a house and moving
• Job changes (including being fired)
• Severe illness with a child
• The breakup of a relationship

And today, I heard some horrific news.  I coworker, though not close, has died.

• Death

Some people can’t deal with any ONE of these things contained by itself.  I am dealing with all at the same time.

But this is not a pity party. Ironically, I able to focus on the extremely positive things.  I have a family that is amazingly supportive and loving.  I have a child who is remarkable considering what he has overcome.  The possibility that today I have just lost both jobs that I thought that I had yesterday is a good thing.  Perhaps it is because Thanksgiving is two days away that I am able to focus on the positive…

But I am rocked by Mike’s death.  As I said, I was not close to him.  Not withstanding… he has become an outlet for my tears.  A man I can count on one hand the times I met him.  But he will always remain vivid in my memory: with his bowtie and his red shoes.  🙂

It’s all just too much.  I teeter back and forth:  did I break a mirror? what did I do to deserve such karma?

to: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I will survive and come out a better person.

I could use a little mercy though… a small glimmer that, indeed, it will all work out.  That it all does work out in the end.  Please let it work out in the end.

I need a hug, and the one person that I truly, desperately need that from isn’t available right now.  And I don’t know if he ever will.

Everything happens for a reason.  Please let that be true.

A friend of mine died last night.  I’d like to say a “good friend”, but honestly, I didn’t know him that well.  We worked together but we didn’t really hang out outside of work.

I think we could of hung out with him under different circumstances – we see things in very similar ways.

He was a little odd – I’m a little odd.

He was pretty far left – I’m pretty far left.

I was tall and skinny – I’m….well, not.

He was the best friend of my boss.  She has lots of work husbands – a polygamist of sorts – but he was special.  He was her best {work} friend.

There is nothing I can do to fill that void.  And I don’t want to try.  It’s not me.  But I do want to help.

I don’t know how to help.

His death reminds me of a discussion I had once.  In high school.  It was a discussion about euphemisms.

The use of “passing” instead of “death”.  “resting in peace” instead of “dead”.

I suppose I don’t care which one people use, but it seems disingenuous when people say “passing”.  It’s not giving death it’s true dues.

So, I guess I do care which I’d like people to use.  When I die, I want to be dead.  Not in a better place.

Some one once said everything happens for a reason.  She truly believes that.  I am holding out hope that all of this has a higher purpose, but I lack faith.  I’m not sure I need faith in this case, but faith might help make things seem more “OK” than they are.

The thought I had tonight on the drive home is “God is cock blocking” us from “being able to make a difference”.  Like things are not hard enough with all the fucked up personalities in our office, and all the fucked up shit people do to each other just because the can, one of the good guys is taken out of the game.

I doubt “God” is really “cock blocking” us – like he really gives a shit about one person’s impact on the world.  Or maybe he does.  In any case, there are a billion people on this planet and right now only one of them matters.

I respect him for fighting the good fight. I respect him more for fighting the good fight without collateral damage.  In some regards I want to be him.

I want people to respect me for who I am and what I accomplished.  I want to be better at how I accomplish things – so people can respect what was accomplished and the man that accomplished it rather than denigrate the outcome based on the path taken to get there.

It makes me think of my Mom.  I guess I’m still not over it.  I guess time will heal all wounds.  I guess time is still linear and the next day comes after this day ends.

I want this day to end.