October 23, 2013


Some time in the last few months I stopped trying to convince myself of everything, and that has made all the difference. 2013 was supposed to be my year. Looking at the here and now, it certainly is. I feel blessed beyond anything I could have earned and excited about life in a most real way. I can't say exactly when it changed. On April 15th I walked away from Boston with weights around my ankles. I pulled a black cap over my head, tied my running shoes on for a trail marathon 6 weeks later, and then let myself forget that I love to run. The months between April and now were not a blur. I was very aware of my state of being.. of my lack of interest in people and ideas. Nothing made me calm except walking with E. I toyed with the idea of seeing a therapist, even made a phone call once, but work got busy and I got tired, and really, I didn't much feel like talking anyway. I walked 50 miles on Cape Cod in September. How amazing it felt to walk all day... to participate in an event rather than plan it, to be far from home among people with a purpose. I saw the ocean, got buzzed on limitless beer, called my dear Dandylion, and felt the fresh air saturating my lungs, washing my skin. I didn't notice that anything in particular happened, or that at a certain time something changed, but when I think back, the time between Boston and Cape Cod was one segment and the time after Cape Cod has been another. After Cape Cod we bought a house. We moved in. I planted garlic in my own garden, mowed my own lawn, felt myself sinking deeply into this thing called love, and loving it. I spent $70 on a pair of boots I have yet to wear and got my hair cut so I could sit and do nothing while someone else worked for me. I planned an executed a brand new event brilliantly. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. Every now and again a piece of the past pops up, reminding me of who I was and where I was going. My heart stirs a bit and I'm confused and sad for the briefest moment. Not because I wish my life had taken another form, but because I still can't piece together exactly what happened, and because I know how confusing my life looks to the people who knew me then but don't know me anymore. I am happy now. I couldn't say that then. I am living instead of believing that one day my dreams would come true, the fairy tale would come to fruition. This is my fairy tale, and I'm not one bit disappointed. I need to read more, to work harder, to step back and look at my surroundings, see through people but also see them as they are. That's how I want people to see me - as a potent poof of the inexplicable, but also as a fact... as something solid and sure, because for the first time in my life, that's how I feel.

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