Asleep

Asleep I ain't. Again. These early morning wake-ups are not a good sign, but they seem to be my body's way of dealing with what's happening, or maybe my body's way of telling me I need to come to a greater level of peace about what's happening. I'm not quite sure, but having The Smiths as a soundtrack at this hour is making it a little easier to be awake:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

I'm tired and I 

I want to go to bed 

Turns out, I may not just have been hearing I'm free the other day because I was happy to be on my bike. It seems I'm now free in another sense, too, because my love has decided he doesn't have what it takes to be in this relationship all the way, which is what I've been asking of him, particularly lately.

Ouch.

Yesterday morning when I was up early, I read a chapter of a book by one of my favorite teachers, Pema Chodron. The book is called The Places that Scare You, and the first chapter talks about the rawness of heartbreak, and how being cracked open as we are in heartbreak always comes with a choice: are we going to allow this experience to harden us, or let it soften us instead? And even though there's no small part of me that's angry about this circumstance, I know that I'll work through that, and let it go, and I know I'll use it to soften, but goddamn it hurts to have to give up a dream.

But I've done it before, and I landed on my feet that time; I'm sure I will this time too. It's not like I can stop loving him overnight, but it feels important to acknowledge what's before me and make some space for all that I want and need to come into my life, in whatever shape it takes.

Looking at these lyrics, I can't help but think about what it might be like to have my love move away, as he is talking about doing this summer:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

And then leave me alone 

Don't try to wake me in the morning 

'Cause I will be gone 

Don't feel bad for me 

I want you to know 

Deep in the cell of my heart 

I will feel so glad to go

Will he? I've been asking him to see if he can determine what his heart really wants, but at the moment it seems to want things that are in conflict with each other. I've been there, and I know how hard it can be to deal with that. But I did deal with it, and although I can be (and have been) supportive of his process, ultimately, I need to release him and let him do what he'll do on his own.

My request to the Universe, borrowing from the lyrics of The Smiths, is for someone to:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

I don't want to wake up 

On my own anymore 

Sing to me 

Sing to me 

I don't want to wake up 

On my own anymore

That's what I want.

This beautiful, sad song is appropriate for marking this day for one more reason than those I've written about above. Mostly when I hear it, I think about someone dying, and someone very dear was born five years ago today and died five years ago tomorrow. Talk about having to give up a dream; the dreams that are woven while a baby is in one's womb are some of the sweetest and most tenacious.

And although I don't know that this true of my friend's baby:

Don't feel bad for me 

I want you to know 

Deep in the cell of my heart 

I really want to go

I guess I do believe that it's hardest on those that are left behind, in this world, when those we love depart for another:

There is another world 

There is a better world

Well, there must be 

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well ... 

Bye bye 

Bye bye 

Bye ...

Rest in peace, sweet babe.