Survivor

This morning on my run around the Arboretum, I wasn't feeling strong. I wasn't feeling energetic. I decided to listen to Alternative Workout to see if that would help, but it didn't do too much.

A couple of miles into it, I passed a woman who I could tell was doing the same loop. She didn't look like she was doing too well, and I found myself judging her for looking like she was struggling. Fast forward another mile, and the same woman passed me!

"Oh no you don't." I thought to myself. "Whatever you've got in that tank of yours, I guarantee you I've got more." And I sped up, passed her, and kept running at a much faster pace than I had been.

I know this scene isn't particularly pretty, and I'm not proud of the judgment. But I was glad to get in touch with my inner strength. I'm gonna need it as I head into yoga weekend number two. I'm sure more openings -- not all of them comfortable -- are coming.

I do have an incredible well of strength. I also have an incredible inner juke box -- so sure of what it wants to hear that during my run it played a song in my head even as my headphones were filled with another one:

I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm not gon give up (What?)
I'm not gon stop (What?)
I'm gon work harder (What?)
I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm gonna make it (What?)
I will survive (What?)
Keep on survivin' (What?)

I am a survivor. And while it doesn't feel great that life feels more like surviving than easy living this week, I'd rather be a survivor than the alternative...

I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm not gon give up (What?)
I'm not gon stop (What?)
I'm gon work harder (What?)
I'm a survivor (What?)
I'm gonna make it (What?)
I will survive (What?)
Keep on survivin' (What?)

Wreck of the Day

Today was an absolutely gorgeous day, and it started off well. I got to ride my bike to work and even made the wise decision to wear biking pants, which I normally don't bother to do. So much more comfy for the crotch and butt!

The day kind of went downhill from there. I just didn't really feel comfortable in my own skin, and that makes being around other people uncomfortable too, which you kinda have to do when you have a job and when you're a Mom.

Lucky for me, I've got a beautiful song to sing my pain today:

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And the light's always red in the rear-view
Desperately close to a coffin of hope
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And I'm thinking 'bout calling on Jesus
'Cause love doesn't hurt so I know I'm not falling in love
I'm just falling to pieces

And if this is giving up then I'm giving up
If this is giving up then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

And maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love
When all my resistance will never be distance enough

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And it's finally quiet in my head
Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed
And if this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

I'm not really giving up, of course. I'm just trying to be gentle with myself about where I am today. Tomorrow is a new day. It may not be a wreck.

Besides, if this what being a wreck looks like, I'm doing alright. Not great, mind you, but not so bad...

The Heart's a Lonely Hunter

One of the perks of watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy is that when I finally do turn off my computer to go to sleep, sometimes the characters go to sleep with me. And sometimes, like last night, that means steamy dreams full of hot sex with black doctors -- doesn't get much better than that.

Except that then I wake up. And there's no sexy black doctor in my bed. It's just me.

On my meditation cushion this morning, I'd barely gotten started when the tears came. Right off the heels of a meditation class last night, I tried to just label them tears and not assign a story to them. To let them be and let them pass. But that wasn't easy to do.

When I got home tonight, I finally decided to watch the DVD I've had for like a month now: Crazy, Stupid, Love. I think I've been avoiding it because I knew it would be hard to watch, that it would bring up feelings I don't particularly enjoy. I wasn't wrong about the feelings, but the movie had a lot going for it, including some good musical numbers.

This one, I think, is particularly appropriate for marking this day:

The truth is unspoken, a promise is broken
I'm under surveillance, they know what my name is
I need some protection, some love and affection
There's 1000 reasons but one is the number

Lucky for me, I'm in a place where I don't need protection (other than from the force for good in the Universe), and the love and affection I need I can get from family and friends.

But when I watch a movie about love, about that magical feeling, well, I can't really do anything other than mourn the loss of mine:

Welcome to my spaceship
It's beautiful forever
Well, she's right here where you left her
And the heart's a lonely hunter

Yes it is. Sometimes we may try to deny it. But hearts love. That's what they do. And when they lose their love, well, they can't help but go into lonely hunter mode.

Which reminds me, there was a P.S. to my note from the Universe:

"Did you know, Sarah, that hearts are never too big to mend, too small to rebound, or too tired to love?"

Yes Universe, I did know that. It just takes time...

Say You Say Me

The forecast for today was scattered thunderstorms. It's true. I knew that. But I still rode my bike to work, and after work I headed out the door from the gym downtown to do my 7 mile loop to picnic point and back, headphones on, phone strapped to my arm.

The bike ride went fine, but about a mile into my run, it started to absolutely pour. I darted into the Campus Inn, which I was luckily right near when the rain started. I asked the young woman at the desk if she would mind if I left my phone there while I ran because I knew (from experience) that it would get ruined if I took it with me in the torrential downpour. She kindly agreed, and as I went to unstrap it, the headphones came out and Slacker 80s hits starting playing out loud in the lobby.

That's right.

We're talking Lionel Richie here:

Say you, say me
Say it for always, that's the way it should be
Say you, say me
Say it together, naturally

I had to laugh, because it probably isn't super common to run to the tune of cheesy 80s ballads. What can I say?

They move me:

As we go down life's lonesome highway
Seems the hardest thing to do is to find a friend or two
A helping hand - some one who understands
That when you feel you've lost your way
You've got some one there to say I'll show you

Say you, say me
Say it for always, that's the way it should be
Say you, say me
Say it together, naturally

So you think you know the answers - oh no
'cause the whole world has got you dancing
That's right - I'm telling you
It's time to start believing - oh yes
Believe in who you are - you are a shining star

Thanks Lionel. I like to think so. I took in so much water on that run that my feet kept making noises like there was someone right on my heels. Nope. Just me. Running in the pouring rain. Without Lionel to keep me company.

But after the rain passed, I was both rewarded with a rainbow and able to retrieve my phone. Not quite what I planned, but a pretty awesome experience nonetheless.

Kinda like my life as a whole...

Scratch

There's the part of camping that is pure enjoyment, and then there is all the work. Work to prepare, work while you are there, and the worst kind of work -- when you get back home. On top of that, you have the house and yard work you left behind, and that all added up to what felt like a shit ton of work over the last couple of days.

To top it off, I've been feeling a little down emotionally too since we returned home. I heard this song today, and it seemed to perfectly capture what I'm experiencing:

It's a big girl world now
Full of big girl things
And everyday I wish I was small

'Cos I've been counting on nothing
But he keeps giving me his word
And I am tired of hearing myself speak
Do you ever get weary? Do you ever get weak?
How do you dream when you can't fall asleep?

I've been wondering what you're thinking
And if you like my dress tonight?
Would you still say you love me
Under this ordinary moonlight?
I'm so afraid of what you'll say

I'd like to know if you'd be open
To starting over from scratch
I'd like to know if you'd be open
To giving me a second chance

I used to think I was special
And only I have proved me wrong
I thought I could change the world with a song

I'd like to know if you'd be open
To starting over from scratch
I'd like to know if you'd be open
To giving me a second chance

Yes, honey girl, I'm open to giving you a second chance. Which reminds me of my note from the Universe the other day, too good not to share:

"Always follow your heart, Sarah, unless it's been broken, then you must lead it.

Back into love,
    The Universe"

Ok heart, here we go. Starting over from scratch...

Three Little Birds

Three little birds inside their happy little tent

With Memorial Day weekend upon us and no trip to the cabin in our plans, we decided to camp for a night at Governor Dodge State Park and then go from there to my son's noon soccer game -- also in Dodgeville.

Because we hatched our plan late in the game, the only campsites available were Horse Camp -- which I dinged because I thought it might be noisy and smelly -- and a group site. The group site was $25 more than a regular site, but as it turned out, it was worth every penny. We had a huge wooded space to ourselves. No listening to other people partying or snoring while we were trying to sleep -- just the three of us in our tent.

Our huge, awesome campsite

Before we left town yesterday, my daughter had a music program at her school. Her Dad and I were so happy to see how actively she participated -- we haven't seen her sing so freely since preschool. This was one of the songs she sang, and given our idyllic surroundings, and the variety of birdcalls we got to hear from our tent this morning, this song seems perfect to mark this day:

Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

Can't see a lot of it here but the sky was gorgeous!

Rise up this mornin',
Smile with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Each by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you-ou-ou: "

Don't get me wrong. There were things to worry about. I suppose there always are. For one thing, my daughter wasn't feeling well on the drive last night and consequently wasn't feeling like camping was a good idea. I had to keep the faith for both of us that it would all work out.

Yeah, it was touch and go for a while, but there was a moment -- after we'd finished our delicious breakfast sandwiches and crawled back in the tent to relax under the bright blue sky -- when my daughter remarked about how much she loved the feeling of relaxing in the tent. We all concurred. And in that moment, every little thing was all right...

I Don't Wanna Go On With You Like That

This morning I decided to repeat last week's Friday run around the Arboretum -- only this time I'd already done a 7 miler earlier in the week. It went well though, today. I'm really liking this distance. I might just stick with 10Ks. I don't know. We'll see if I'm moved to do another half marathon or even a full. Not sure at the moment. Just enjoying running when I feel like it, and I tend to enjoy runs of at least an hour more than shorter ones.

Anyway, of all the tunes that Slacker played for me during my run, it was this one that stayed with me afterward -- specifically, the chorus:

'Cause I don't wanna go on with you like that
Don't wanna be a feather in your cap
I just wanna tell you honey I ain't mad
But I don't wanna go on with you like that
Woah, woah, woah, oh yeah

This is really how I'm feeling at the moment about my last relationship. Sometimes I think I probably come across as bitter -- which I guess is the anger working its way out. But when I strip away everything, I'm not angry. I just don't have any interest in continuing in a relationship that falls short of what I want for myself, no matter how much of that relationship was worth hanging onto for as long as I did:

I just wanna tell you honey I ain't mad
But I don't wanna go on with you like that

Ships in the Night

Things are slow at the office, so I decided to go to a yoga class at the gym over the noon hour. The instructor for the class is only going to be there for one more week before she "retires" -- basically working for herself instead of for the gym. I also got to meet the teacher who is taking over for the one who is leaving, because she was there as a participant today. She'd mentioned when she introduced herself to the class that she had recently moved to Madison from New Hampshire, so when I introduced myself after class, I asked her what brought her to the Midwest.

I'll give you one guess.

That's right:

Love.

I told her a bit about my recent experience with a relocatee (now ex-relocatee) from New Hampshire. I also told her I hoped she and her boyfriend would have more success, and not end up as we did, as my beloved Mat Kearney sings, ships in the night:

Like ships in the night
You keep passing me by
We're just wasting time
Trying to prove who's right
And if it all goes crashing into the sea
If it's just you and me
Trying to find the light

Maybe, hopefully, she and her boyfriend don't have as much stacked against them as we did -- maybe not so much baggage:

Chasing your dreams since the violent 5th grade
Trying to believe in your silent own way
Cause we'll be ok... I'm not going away
Like you watched at fourteen as it went down the drain

And pops stayed the same and your moms moved away
How many of our parents seem to make it anyway
We're just fumbling through the grey
Trying find a heart that's not walking away

Turn the lights down low
Walk these halls alone
We can feel so far from so close

Yep, that last line sure sounds familiar...

Like ships in the night
You keep passing me by
We're just wasting time
Trying to prove who's right
And if it all goes crashing into the sea
If it's just you and me trying to find the light
Like ships in the night
You're passing me by
You're passing me by
Like ships in the night

I also like these two lines:

Feels like we're learning this out on our own
Trying to find a way down the road we don't know

Uh-huh. And sometimes roads come to dead ends. One of the things Michael Stone said during the workshop that really stuck with me was that the goal of our practice is to move the dead end signs to the beginning of the road so we don't have to go all the way down it before realizing it isn't where we wanted to go after all...

High

I've been trying to slowly work toward getting up early enough every day so that I'll have time to sit even on the mornings when I have to wake my son up at 6:30am. This morning I awoke at 6:10am, and luckily, the dawn was just as James Blunt found it when he wrote this song:

Beautiful dawn - lights up the shore for me.
There is nothing else in the world,
I'd rather wake up and see (with you).
Beautiful dawn - I'm just chasing time again.
Thought I would die a lonely man, in endless night.
But now I'm high; running wild among all the stars above.
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me.

As I drank my tea and had a bar to energize me during my bike ride and Ashtanga practice, I watched the end of an episode of Grey's Anatomy. And it was a tearjerker, with this song playing in the background:

Beautiful dawn - melt with the stars again.
Do you remember the day when my journey began?
Will you remember the end (of time)?
Beautiful dawn - You're just blowing my mind again.
Thought I was born to endless night, until you shine.
High; running wild among all the stars above.
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me.

For me emotional release is one of the positives of having a tv show as a companion. I don't know if I just have lots of stored up tears or if I'll always be a person who cries easily, but for now, I know that the release feels like just what the Dr. ordered...

Beautiful Day

Springtime at the Capitol!

I've been keeping up with my daily gratitude journal, and I'm happy to report that each day I find more for which to be grateful.

This morning started off cloudy and looking like it might rain, but after my 5-minute morning meditation, I pedaled over to the studio for my morning practice. I arrived with a whole hour in which to practice, which had been my goal after the weekend. The practice felt great, and when I saw my old teacher at the end of it (he was coming in to teach his class), he commented on how bright-eyed we Ashtangis were.

I am feeling much brighter eyed after this weekend. As painful as it was, I think it did a lot for me. After work today I went for a 7-mile run out to Picnic Point and back to the Capitol, and my body felt really strong and limber. (During my last long run I kept having to stop and stretch because my hip and leg were bothering me.) Who knew that sitting still and feeling my feelings could loosen me up where yoga could not?

This beautiful day turned out to be sunny and 80 degrees -- one of those Wisco spring days that feels like summer came overnight. When I got done with my run, I walked over to Collectivo to get myself a chocolate milk -- the perfect recovery drink -- and on my way back to the gym for a shower, I saw a woman photographing the tulips on the Capitol lawn. I've seen people doing this many times this Spring, but until today, I wasn't moved to take one of my own (see photo).

I'm super happy with the way the photo turned out, and how well it dovetails with the song I've chosen to mark this day:

The heart is a bloom
Shoots up through the stony ground
There's no room
No space to rent in this town

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

Yes Bono, it is a beautiful day, and I'm in such a good space to appreciate it. I'm going to try not to cling to it, though -- that was the lesson in the guided meditation I went to this evening on my way home. (My old yoga teacher started a group a year or two ago which I've known about but until now I had not been inspired to attend.)

And I do love this town:

You love this town
Even if that doesn't ring true
You've been all over
And it's been all over you

I feel so fortunate to live in a house I love, to practice yoga in a studio I love, to work in a beautiful building, to have my gym as a home base for showers after exercising outdoors, to have such a scenic run just down the street from my work, to live in such a bike friendly place and own such an Archie-friendly bike.

Oh yes, and so glad it is finally warm outside!

It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
It's a beautiful day

Touch me
Take me to that other place
Reach me
I know I'm not a hopeless case

I sure do know that. And I'm trusting that going about my daily life and feeling gratitude is going to bring me most of what I want and all of what I need:

What you don't have you don't need it now
What you don't know you can feel it somehow
What you don't have you don't need it now
Don't need it now
Was a beautiful day

I'm Your Man

This morning I got up earlier than I normally do on a morning when I don't have the kids; my earlier rising motivated by my workshop this weekend. You see, ever since my Ashtanga group moved its open practice to Mound Street, we've had more time constraints. We have to be done by 8:45am, and previous to the workshop, I'd been arriving at 8:00 or a couple of minutes after and trying to squeeze in my practice. In the process of trying to beat the clock, I've been cheating my breath and many of the postures. So I'm working on turning a new leaf.

This morning wasn't a perfect start -- I could've arrived earlier than I did, but it was an improvement. And accompanying me on my bikeride this morning was this song in my head -- and specifically these words on repeat:

But where we're going baby
Ain't no such word as no

Not exactly sure what to make of it, but this is my take:

This commitment I'm making to myself, there's no going back. There's no way to stuff it back in or to go back to being ok with what was once ok with me.

It might also be about the realization I had this weekend that I am choosing people for intimate relationships who need to go away because I need to go away. That's a big one. And it really makes me think twice about jumping back into the dating game anytime soon. I'm not sure I'll be ready to meet someone who'll really stick around for me - - emotionally and physically -- until I really stick around for me - - emotionally and physically. I'm definitely on the path. I'm taking steps. I've sat for 5 minutes the last two days. But it's going to take time.

So no George, I'm afraid I do not know:

Baby, I'm your man don't you know that?
Baby, I'm your man
You bet
If you're gonna do it, do it right - right?
Do it with me

I don't know who my man is yet. But I know he's out there:

So good
You're divine
Wanna take you, wanna make you
But they tell me it's a crime
Everybody knows where the good people go
But where we're going baby
Ain't no such word as no...

Rama Lama (Bang Bang)

{Bang, bang}

Those are the first two words in a song I was introduced to today. They are also a fairly apt description of what it felt like happened to me today.

There are moments, when I'm really letting myself feel my pain, where I would give anything for:

1) a gunshot wound, or
2) 26 miles to run, or
3) another couple hours of Asana (yoga postures).

Why that list, you ask?

1) Gunshot wounds: I have a new favorite show -- it's not new at all, but I'd never watched it, and I'm watching it now on Hulu. It's Grey's Anatomy, and gunshot wounds are among the many injuries with which the surgeons deal. By all accounts, they hurt like crazy, but the docs do their best to anesthetize the pain. No anesthesiologists were on hand at the workshop.

2) 26 Miles: My friend and training partner for the half marathon I ran last June, the woman who introduced me to the concept that a half marathon wasn't necessarily less than, decided to run her first full marathon. Filled with self doubt in the week leading up to the race, I tried to get her to focus on positive self talk and the evidence of what she's done in the past. She texted me tonight that she did it in 3:50. Her goal was under 4 hours. She said it was a beast. I'm sure it was -- I haven't managed to go the full distance myself. But in the moment when I read her text, all I could think was how magical that feeling of total physical exhaustion after a run is. Not to mention all those endorphins. None of which come with a sitting practice.

3) More asana: I realized today at the workshop that the reason -- ok maybe not the reason but a reason -- why I'm so intent on getting my practice in is to keep myself from really feeling what I'm feeling. Once again, today, when the time came to sit, it was a struggle. Not quite like yesterday. I had more tools. I sat more comfortably and that made a big difference. But after we sat we talked about pain, and the ways in which we numb ourselves or try to go away from the pain, and that it doesn't work. It can't. That the only way to get out of that vicious cycle is to see that you are in pain, and watch the tendencies that you have to push it away or numb or get yourself to feel a physical sensation to replace it -- even if that physical sensation is pain, it's not difficult in the same way as psychic pain -- and affirm that you aren't going to leave yourself.

I've heard that teaching before, in various guises, but today it really hit me in a new way. Maybe because I wasn't trying to figure out how it applied to my Dad or my last boyfriend, but instead I was breathing in how it applies to me. And it hurt.

Yesterday during the workshop when I felt the tears coming, I stopped them. Today I let them rip. It was uncomfortable, not unlike the discomfort I felt being singled out as the one who hates meditation because of the comment I made yesterday, but it was better than pushing them back down. By the last hour, I was really ready for the weekend to be over. I started thinking about getting a latte and going home to watch an episode of Grey's. As the last hour progressed, I started to get a headache. A really bad headache. I made it through, rode my bike partway home with another workshop participant, and then started up the hill for the solo part of the journey. My head was pounding so hard I felt like I was going to throw up. I almost got off my bike to lie down in someone's lawn but I wanted to be home, so I rode on. When I got home, I tried cold on my head, I tried heat, I forced myself to eat something so I could take some Ibuprofen, and then I crawled into bed and managed to fall asleep. For three hours. When I woke, I still had a headache, but not nearly as severe.

I'm guessing it was some kind of release. It seemed to serve the same purpose as nausea during pregnancy -- when you feel sick, you don't want to drink -- the body's way of protecting the baby during the first trimester. When I left that retreat with my head pounding, I couldn't go get the things that would take me out of the space I was in -- coffee, tv -- I was in too much pain to access them. And maybe that's what my body/heart/mind/soul needed:

Could a body close the mind out
Stitch a seam across the eye?
If you can be good, you'll live forever
If you're bad, you'll die when you die

Hearing only one true note
On the one and only sound
Unzip my body, take my heart out
'Cause I need a beat to give this tune

I love the image that that last verse conjures up. Like you could just take out your heart and remove the source of your pain, and just use its beat as music. This chick, Roisin, is super cool, but unfortunately, the message of the workshop was not to unzip your body and take your heart out. It was to go more deeply inside it. Especially to the places that scare you. "You can get so much closer to the pain than you think you can," Michael assured us.

I'm here to tell you that you can, but it will hurt. A lot. And I've got a ways to go before I get as close as I have a feeling I'm going to need to go to really heal.

I'm feeling tonight a bit like I did after I had left my husband and then found out that a family member had died. I just so badly wanted to be comforted. I showed up on his doorstep in tears and he told me it wasn't fair to him. And it wasn't. I get that. But I wanted to be held.

That's how I feel tonight. Like I understand that this is the path I am on. I get that it involves loss. I get that I am alone right now. I get that I need and want to follow my heart:

And if I need a rhythm
It'll be to my heart I listen
If it don't put me too far wrong
And if I, and if I

And if I need a rhythm
It's gonna be to my heart I listen
If it don't put me too far wrong

And that it won't put me too far wrong. But damn I wish there was someone here to hold me tonight...

That's the Way It Is

I think it was four years ago (could've been five) that Michael Stone, yoga and meditation teacher, came to Madison to teach a workshop and I attended the Friday night talk. I hadn't signed up for the weekend because I didn't have the cash, and after the Friday night talk, I was kind of glad I hadn't. I was super drawn to him/really wanted to get in his pants (this was during my newly liberated, sex seeking stage). I think I posted some (now) embarrassing Facebook message alluding to his hotness -- definitely not appropriate but that just wasn't my middle name during that period.

He returns to Madison each year, and the combination of not having the cash and feeling embarrassed about that post kept me from signing up for a number of years, but this year I was in a different space. I had the cash, figured he wouldn't even remember about the post, and was no longer worried about desire getting in the way of learning from him.

Today was the first full day. The studio was really crowded, with almost double what we normally have in the room, so lack of space was an issue. It was different than I thought, too. I thought my regular Ashtanga practice would prepare me for what we did -- and it did, sort of -- but I felt like I did as much unlearning as learning which surprised me quite a bit. And for a three hour asana practice, we really didn't do that much.

After our lunch break, we had to sit in meditation. I'd been dreading this part, and it was every bit as bad as I thought it was going to be. Afterward he asked people to share their experiences, and I said I kept wondering whether, if I'm spending the whole time thinking "I fucking hate meditating!" am I really getting any of the benefits? He must've spent 10 minutes responding to what I said, which didn't feel super comfortable, but I got a lot out of it. He said he forgot to tell us not to bring ourselves to our cushion. That we're not doing meditation, we're just breathing, and if we let the mind attach a story to an emotion that arises, we just keep feeding it and it can't shift. Which is exactly what I experienced. He said he'd had the same experience when he first started, and although he probably wouldn't love the use of Celine Dion to mark this day, this song was going through my mind on my bike ride home:

I can read your mind and I know your story
I see what you're going through
It's an uphill climb, and I'm feeling sorry
But I know it will come to you

Celine doesn't say "if you just put in the time practicing," but I'm really beginning to think that these two things are linked. This desire I have for a different kind of intimacy than I've experienced before and my inability/difficulty sitting still. If I can't be intimate with myself - -and nothing, nothing, nothing is more intimate with the self than seated meditation -- how can I expect to be in a relationship with someone else that is characterized by the kind of intimacy I want?

Don't surrender 'cause you can win
In this thing called love

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

I don't know Celine. I think maybe love comes to those who practice. Michael challenged me to start a 5 minute daily morning meditation practice and come back next year and tell him how it's going. I like a challenge, and I'm goal driven. Especially when the goal is loving myself -- and ultimately loving and being loved by someone else -- more wholeheartedly.

Glory of Love

This morning I ran around the Arboretum (6 mile loop) before heading to a yoga class. I'm loving my new Slacker station of choice, 80s hits. I heard so many great tunes while I was running, many of which lifted my spirits, including this one:

Tonight it's very clear
'Cause we're both lying here
There's so many things I wanna say
I will always love you
I would never leave you alone

Sometimes I just forget
Say things I might regret
It breaks my heart to see you crying
I don't wanna lose you
I could never make it alone

I am a man who will fight for your honor
I'll be the hero you're dreaming of
We'll live forever
Knowing together
That we did it all for the glory of love

How can the song from the second Karate Kid movie (I used to diggg Ralph Macchio) not make one smile?

But then, about 3 miles in, an 80s hit came on that sparked a memory (one I conveniently have a blog post about since I marked the day with the song, Sister Christian) that nearly doubled me over with grief. Sobbing and running are not easy to do at the same time, but that's what I did. And it was hard, really hard, but I let myself feel it, and it passed.

Tonight I had a tune-up with one of my pit crew and I told her the story of my breakup. I told her I had been struggling a little bit with feelings of shame about the lengths to which I was willing to go. "Yes!" she assured me. "Because you loved! That's something to be celebrated -- that you are willing to go the distance for love."

Like my Sister Christian-induced crying jag, having her tell me that made me feel better. Of course I was willing to do just about anything. I loved him!

We'll live forever
Knowing together
That we did it all for the glory of love
We did it all for love...

Good Life

I think I may be done with the woe is me stage. Not that there's anything wrong with that, when that's where one is, but I sure am glad to be climbing out of it.

During my practice today, it came to me that this time in my life isn't really about whether I am offered a particular job or have a successful relationship, it's about my own integration and wholeness. That's why I show up on my mat most days. That's why I choose not to drink on more days than I choose to drink. That's why I listen to Brene Brown in the car. That's why I go to Alanon meetings and therapy and that's why I write this blog. To become more fully the person I am. Not the one I thought I was, not the one my ex-husband thought I was, not the one my parents thought I was. But the person I am. Today.

The other thing that always helps chase the blues away is getting my kids back and getting to take care of them and be with them. My daughter and I were sitting at the dining room table working on thank you notes tonight when she requested that I play this song she'd heard at school:

Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone

New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want
We're young enough to say

Oh this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life

I reckon it is really a good life:

Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire tonight
This could really be a good life
A good, good life

At this point in the song my daughter came over and closed my ears:

Sometimes there's airplanes I can't jump out
Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now
We all got our stories but please tell me-e-e-e
What there is to complain about

...which is pretty adorable considering I'm the biggest contributor to the swear jar I established in our house. Love that kid, and most of the time, I love who I am around her:

When you're happy like a fool
Let it take you over
When everything is out
You gotta take it in

Oh this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life

Where Does the Good Go

I feel a bit like I'm being tested right now. My long-term relationship is over. I am hoping to change jobs, but I applied for three different positions and got offered exactly none of them. So to combat the desire to stay in bed and eat bon bons all day, I've taken to making a daily list of things for which I am grateful.

Sleep is always on the list. I love to sleep. That's true whether things are good or bad -- it's just so awesome. Last night I got about 9 hours, which reminds me of a line from When Harry Met Sally: "That's the good thing about depression. You get your rest."

Yep.

Tonight, however, when I crawl into bed and pull out my gratitude journal, it's these identical twin sisters and their rockin' song that are gonna top the list:

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?
What do you do with the left over you?
And how do you know, when to let go?
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Good question. I've been wondering that myself. On some level I trust that it's out there in some sort of cosmic recycling bin, but it feels more like it got pulverized because I don't see or feel any trace of it right now.

Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive
Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go
Look me in the eye and promise, no love is like our love
Look me in the heart and unbreak broken, it won't happen

It's love that leaves, that breaks the seal
Of always thinking you would be
Real happy and healthy, strong and calm
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Where do you go when you're in love and the world knows?
How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down?
What do you say it's up for grabs now that you're on your way down?
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

I don't rightly know, but hopefully it'll become apparent before too long...

Life is Short

Me at 43: I am young but I have aged

Heard this song yesterday for the first time, and it feels appropriate as my new theme song:

When it doesn't rain it snows
Yeah the cookie crumbles but in who's hand?
All things said and all things done
Life is short

Oh I am young but I have aged
Waited long to seize the day
All things said and plenty done...life's too short

Because this is the overwhelming feeling I have right now: How'd I get to be 43 with so much in my life still a big question mark? I know that it isn't all that uncommon, I really do. As I think I've mentioned here before, I've heard we don't move into our true work until we're in our 40s.

And as for the not getting the marriage thing right yet, well, I'm not alone there either. With 1 out of 2 marriages ending in divorce, plenty of the ones holding it together now won't be for long. Plus, I'm glad I'm not in that spot. I'm glad I didn't cling to a marriage that was lacking in so many ways.

I guess part of what is going on for me this early morning is I'm mad at myself for clinging to the man I fell in love with on the cusp of my 40s. I talk a good game about letting go, but the truth is, I'm still asking someone to see me, recognize me, love me in a way that he can't. Or won't. I don't know which it is, I really don't, and it doesn't really matter anyway.

Mother's Day has traditionally been kind of a tough day for me. When I was a kid, I found it confusing. I was supposed to thank my mother for always being there for me, for being so great, but I didn't feel those things. She wasn't always there for me, and while she may be a divine human being like the rest of us, as a mother, she wasn't so great.

And then there was/is the disappointment of Mother's Day with my babydaddy. Here's a day to underscore the fact that women around the country are being recognized for the Moms that they are, while the father of my children complains about Hallmark creating a holiday on which he is supposed to do something. Which of course, wouldn't be nearly as significant if he did it during all the days that aren't Mother's Day, but he either doesn't see the Mother that I am or he refuses to acknowledge it. And I guess I'm still working on accepting that.

But this is also why it was so significant for me to find someone who did see and celebrate my Momness, and why yesterday, the first Mother's Day in four years where my last love didn't express that, was so difficult. And as I write, I recognize that this is just another layer of letting go that I need to do. It's hard as hell, yeah, but what's the alternative? Cling to something that doesn't deliver? Nah. I've come too far. I've worked too hard. I won't do that.

Plus, the two beauties for whom it is most important to feel and appreciate my Momness, my children, do. They made me beautiful cards and big hugs and helped me clean the basement, a task that has been hanging over me for weeks.

So back to the theme song for a moment:

Ooooh could this be....
Ooooh could this be the day I've waited for?

Yes, I think it is. This is the day on which I pledge that I will feel grateful for what I have and what I am rather than what I lack or what I am not:

Another door to peek in through
The floor is filthy
But the couch is clean
At the end of the day
That's another day gone
Life is short....Ooo life is short

Ooooh
Could this be....
Ooooh
Could this be the day I've waited for?

Yes, I think today is the day. The day I stop indulging in fantasies that keep me locked in an emotional vortex that is compelling mainly for its similarity to the lack of consistent love and recognition from my father, a vortex I no longer want to swirl around in:

Oh I am young but I have aged
Waited long to seize the day
All things said and plenty done
Oh I am young but I have a past
Travelled far to find the start
Yes I am scared and I've been burnt
But life is short

Ooooh
Could this be...
Ooooh
Could this be the day I've waited for?

Here's hoping...

Live to Tell

The iPod dialed this one up today, which felt very appropriate.

Because I have lived to tell, only I haven't really told:

I have a tale to tell
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall

A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'till then
It will burn inside of me

I keep hearing, from the spiritual teachers in my life, that I have to write my story, but I'm finding it very, very difficult:

I know where beauty lives
I've seen it once, I know the warm she gives
The light that you could never see
It shines inside, you can't take that from me

The truth is never far behind
You kept it hidden well
If I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again

I think I will have the chance again, but it feels like the time is nigh to get writing:

If I ran away, I'd never have the strength
To go very far
How would they hear the beating of my heart
Will it grow cold
The secret that I hide, will I grow old
How will they hear
When will they learn
How will they know

They'll hear when I speak. They'll learn when I teach them. They'll know when they're ready. I'm quite sure of it...

Watching the Wheels

Ahhhh! Sunshine, 70 degrees, & a day in nature with my boy

What a perfect Saturday! My son and I slept in -- I got 10 hours, he got close to 12 -- and then headed out on a little adventure together.

It's my daughter's birthday today, but it's her Dad's year to do her party, which is how I ended up with the whole day to hang with my son. We decided to head to Parfrey's Glen, near Merrimac. The weather was gorgeous, we were both glad to be out in nature, he was feeling chatty -- it was really perfect.

I've had several years now to get used to the fact that I won't always get to be with my kids on their birthday, so that didn't really get me down. But I haven't had as long to get used to not having a man around to share in adventures, and that was hard at times, especially when we visited places my last man and I'd happily visited together.

On the way home, we heard this song in the car:

People say I'm crazy doing what I'm doing,
Well they give me all kinds of warnings to save me from ruin,
When I say that I'm o.k. they look at me kind of strange,
Surely your not happy now you no longer play the game,

People say I'm lazy dreaming my life away,
Well they give me all kinds of advice designed to enlighten me,
When I tell that I'm doing Fine watching shadows on the wall,
Don't you miss the big time boy you're no longer on the ball?

Still a little ice tucked in some crevices...

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go,

People asking questions lost in confusion,
Well I tell them there's no problem,
Only solutions,
Well they shake their heads and they look at me as if I've lost my mind,
I tell them there's no hurry...
I'm just sitting here doing time,

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go.

And it was that last line in particular that struck me today. Yep, I just had to let it go...

Juke Box Hero

When I was setting off this afternoon on my run, I decided to go in a little different direction on Slacker -- 80's hits. When this song came on, I felt compelled to sing along:

Standing in the rain, with his head hung low
Couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show
Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene
Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream

He heard one guitar, just blew him away
He saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day
Bought a beat up six string in a secondhand store
Didn't know how to play it, but he knew for sure

That one guitar, felt good in his hands
Didn't take long, to understand
Just one guitar, slung way down low
Was one way ticket, only one way to go

So he started rockin'
Ain't never gonna stop
Gotta keep on rockin'
Someday he's gonna make it to the top

And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes
He's a juke box hero
He took one guitar, juke box hero, stars in his eyes
Juke box hero, he'll come alive tonight

Running by a bunch of college kids, I couldn't help but think about the fact that none of them had even been born when this song came out in 1981. Which also means I'm closer to the age of their Mothers than I am to theirs. Which isn't really good or bad, it's just weird, because I so distinctly remember my days roaming the campus as an undergrad:

In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour
Thought he passed his own shadow, by the backstage door
Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain
And that one guitar made his whole life change

Now he needs to keep rockin'
He just can't stop
Gotta keep on rockin'
That boy has got to stay on top

And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes
He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes
Yeah, juke box hero, got stars in his eyes
With that one guitar he'll come alive
Come alive tonight

Running the 7 miles from the Capitol to Picnic Point and back, I felt a lot of gratitude. To be able to run that far, even if I had to do it a little slowly and stiffly, to live in a place with such scenic runs right outside my home and work, to be able to return from a windy run to a shower and sauna at the gym...

Afterward, I met my babydaddy and my kids -- one of whom will be 11 tomorrow -- for a sushi birthday dinner. Again, I felt very grateful. For my daughter, her brother, the fact that we could all comfortably eat out together. There's no doubt that there are things about my life that are not as I would like them to be, but there's also so much for which I am profoundly grateful...

In the End

I'm so grateful that I am listening to this Brene Brown book right now, because it is really helping me understand what went wrong in my last relationship. One of the biggest mysteries for me has been how it can feel so good to be together - only to have it slip out of reach again.

When the New Englander came for a visit in late March, we were both reminded of how good we are together, both the two of us and the four of us. When he left, neither of us cried. We shared a passionate kiss and embrace and left each other smiling. I can't speak for him, but I was happy because it felt like "Yes. This is what we thought it was, and we are going to do this."

A couple of weeks after he got home, he stopped texting. I started realizing that he would return my calls or emails or texts, but not initiate them. He'd disengaged. I'd seen this pattern before, plus this time, listening to Brene Brown's talks on vulnerability, I had her words to help me understand it. She says that disengagement is a betrayal of trust, and it's crazymaking, because there isn't one thing you can point to, like an affair, to say this is how you hurt me, but they are hurting you just by not showing up. Yep.

The other thing she said that really helped me understand my experience -- the great visit followed by the no-show boyfriend -- was this line of hers: "When we lose our capacity for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding." It was almost as if joy necessitated a crash. Which sucks.

That's where Linkin Park comes in:

(It starts with one)
One thing I don't know why
It doesn’t even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time
(All I know)
Time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day
The clock ticks life away
(It’s so unreal)
Didn’t look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Trying to hold on but didn’t even know
I wasted it all just to watch you go

Uh-huh. You sing it boys. You get me:

I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to be will eventually be a memory of a time when...

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

You kept everything inside and even though I tried...

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There’s only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There’s only one thing you should know

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter

Yep. I tried so far. And got so far. But in the end, it doesn't even matter...

Turning Tables

As my regular readers know, I love me some Adele. She makes me almost like being in a space where I can feel what she's singing about in songs like this one:

Close enough to start a war
All that I have is on the floor
God only knows what we're fighting for
All that I say, you always say more

I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb I can't breathe

So, I won't let you close enough to hurt me
No, I won't rescue you to just desert me
I can't give you the heart you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
To turning tables

...Almost. It still sucks, even with Adele singing her empathy. So I'm dealing with the pain the best way I know how: lots of yoga combined with a conscious effort to allow myself to feel what I'm feeling. During class today, the teacher talked about letting go. She said: "Maybe you're holding on to someone who isn't meant for you. Let them go, and what is meant for you will show up. That's how it works."

This, of course, made me cry, but I tried to make room for the possibility that she is right. With one caveat: I can support the idea, as difficult as it is, that the New Englander and I were not meant to stay together, not meant to marry, not meant to have children together. It isn't easy to get my head around that, not to mention my heart, but I can make room for that possibility:

Under haunted skies I see you (ooh)
Where love is lost your ghost is found
I braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no, I will never be knocked down, whoa

I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb I can't breathe

So, I won't let you close enough to hurt me,
No, I won't rescue you to just desert me
I can't give you the heart you think you gave me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
Turning tables

I can't, however, support the idea that he wasn't meant for me at all. I do believe we came together for important reasons and we both healed a lot during our time together. I'll be better able to recognize the love I want and need thanks to love we shared, and I'll be less likely to give myself away, too:

Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls for me
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
Standing on my own two feet

Yep, that's where I'm standing right now. And I'm grateful for the grounding that allows standing on my own two feet to feel solid, if a little sad at the moment...

Tomorrow People

I woke up early this morning -- with the sun in my unshaded bedroom -- with this song floating through my mind:

Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?

I know that on some level, he's talking about nations' need to know their history lest they be doomed to repeat it, but that's not why I think it got fired up on the internal jukebox this morning. I think that's all about me making peace with my past and making a decision to live in the now, now matter how uncomfortable it may be, to really show up for what is, rather than living for tomorrow:

Today you say you deyah
Tomorrow you say you're gone
But you're gone so long
If there is no love in your heart - so sorry
Then there is no hope for you - true, true

There's love in my heart, that's for sure. And I've got so many people pulling for me -- I feel super lucky. All that support helps me feel up for being a today person, whatever the day brings.

And today brought a lot of goodness. I got to practice Ashtanga at Mound Street for the first time -- a merging of my yoga lives -- and that felt really good. I wore my birthday shoes (one of the two pairs) and got tons of compliments on them. I taught a heart chakra yoga class and one of my students afterward told me how much she enjoyed the spiritual aspect of my classes, which was awesome. I even got a compliment on my road bike on the way to my second yoga practice of the day, which was random but also nice. The person asked me how much it cost, and I said I didn't know, that it was a gift, but it gets me places and makes me happy when I ride it!

Vulnerable

As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm listening to The Power of Vulnerability on CD. I love the author, Brene Brown. I'm learning a lot that will help me both in my life in general as well as with being a parent.

I'm an emotional person, so it isn't particularly surprising that listening to it can bring out the tears, but man, did they start rolling today. She was talking about a time when her young child was dancing unselfconsciously in public, in kind of a goofy way, and seeing it made her love her daughter even more. She said as much to her husband, who said to her: "I love you like that." She asked what he meant, and he said: "When you're goofy, when you screw up -- I love you not in spite of those times but because of them." She was 41 at the time, and she said it had never occurred to her that an adult could love another adult in that way. She said she'd always felt like she had to cover those things up so that he'd continue to love her, and how much their marriage had changed since she had been able to embrace being vulnerable with him.

Such a beautiful story, definitely enough to make me tear up, but the flood that came out was related to the fact that I learned that lesson when I was 41 also, only I'm not married to the man who taught me that, and I'm not going to be.

Ooooof.

I'm going to be ok. I know I am. And I am grateful that I now understand about that kind of love, because I'm not going to settle for anything less.

Allowing myself to be vulnerable in that way was definitely worth it, but it makes the loss greater, there's just no getting around it.

I picked this song solely for the title, because it's how I'm feeling today:

Share with me the blankets that you're wrapped in
Because it's cold outside, cold outside, it's cold outside
Share with me the secrets that you kept in
Because it's cold inside, cold inside, it's cold inside

And you're slowly shaking finger tips
Show that you're scared like me so
Let's pretend we're alone
And I know you may be scared
And I know we're unprepared
But I don't care

Tell me, tell me
What makes you think that you are invincible?
I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure
Please don't tell me that I'm the only one that's vulnerable
Impossible...

Why Don't You Get a Job

Today was a beautiful spring day, and my daughter was gone all afternoon on a playdate. So when my son and I headed out to soccer game number two of the weekend, I decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and opportunity for release by taking a run during my son's 30-minute pre-game warmup.

What a good idea. I think my legs are officially fully recovered from last weekend now, and when this song came up on Slacker during my run, I couldn't help but smile:

My friend's got a girlfriend
Man he hates that bitch
He tells me every day
He says "man I really gotta lose my chick
In the worst kind of way"

She sits on her ass
He works his hands to the bone
To give her money every payday
But she wants more dinero just to stay at home
Well my friend
You gotta say

I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way
na-na, Why don't you get a job?
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
na-na, why don't you get a job?

I guess all his money, well it isn't enough
To keep her bill collectors at bay
I guess all his money, well it isn't enough
Cause that girl's got expensive taste

I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way
na-na, Why don't you get a job?
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
na-na, why don't you get a job?

Well I guess it ain't easy doing nothing at all
But hey man free rides just don't come along
every day

Let me tell you about my other friend now

My friend's got a boyfriend, man she hates that dick
She tells me every day
He wants more dinero just to stay at home
Well my friend
You gotta say

I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way
na-na, Why don't you get a job?
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
na-na, why don't you get a job?

I won't give you no money, I always pay
na-na, Why don't you get a job?
Say no way, say no way ya, no way
na-na, Why don't you get a job?

Thanks, The Offspring, for helping lighten my load so I could better enjoy my offspring this evening...

Last Goodbye

Today had a distinctive Jeff Buckley feel to it, and by that I mean melancholy. Hard. And given the reason for the melancholy and the hardness, I thought this would be an appropriate song with which to mark this day:

This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it's over
Just hear this and then I'll go
You gave me more to live for
More than you'll ever know

This is our last embrace
Must I dream and always see your face
Why can't we overcome this wall
Well, maybe it's just because I didn't know you at all

Kiss me, please kiss me
But kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation
You know it makes me so angry 'cause I know that in time
I'll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye

Did you say 'no, this can't happen to me,'
And did you rush to the phone to call
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind
Saying maybe you didn't know him at all
You didn't know him at all, oh, you didn't know

Well, the bells out in the church tower chime
Burning clues into this heart of mine
Thinking so hard on her soft eyes and the memories
Offer signs that it's over... it's over

Yes it is. I tried to tell my kids that, but they said: "That's what you said the last time, Mom." Hmmm. I guess it is possible that I did say that before, and I guess I understand that they can't feel or understand the difference between the two times. They don't know, at least not on a conscious level, what's different about me that makes this time different.

I also told their Dad that my relationship was over, because it doesn't work very well to get that kind of information secondhand from the kids. He was nice about it, but it wasn't a comfortable feeling by any stretch of the imagination.

Comfort was something today just refused to offer, and by the end of it, I was not in good shape. I yelled at my daughter, and that never makes either of us feel good. Afterward, I asked both of my kids to come and talk to me.

"I'm angry" I told them. "Not at you, at life, but it is causing me to overreact to things that irritate me in our interactions and I'm sorry about that. I will do what I can to express it appropriately, and I'll go to yoga in the morning. That will help. In the meantime, if you could just try not to give me a hard time about doing things that you know are your jobs, that'd really help."

And they really seemed to hear me...

Love is an Open Door

I picked up my daughter from school this afternoon and on the way home, we heard a song from Frozen on the radio. The song reminded us we've been meaning to go see the movie before it left the cheap theatre. As luck would have it, when we got home we found out there was a showing in 15 minutes at a theatre just 10 minutes from our house, so we headed straight over.

The movie was cute. We enjoyed it. It had some good special effects.

But there was one particular part that struck a chord with me, which was this song:

But with you
I found my place
I see your face

And it's nothing like I've ever known before....
Love is an open door
Love is an open door
Love is an open door

During the lead-in to the song, he tells her he'll never shut her out. That's a promise, as hard as I tried, that I failed to elicit from my last love. He needed to preserve his habit of retreating; I found that it smacked too closely of the depression that has riddled my family and broken countless hearts (including my own) over the years. Nope, I don't want to be shut out. I won't be, and this is where much of the clarity about the breakup comes from this time around.

When I heard this song during the movie I was thinking yeah, love is an open door, until it slams shut in your face. And that's how I'm feeling, a big part of me at least, but I know the truth is that even when we have to say goodbye to one love, love remains an open door in more ways than one:

1) There's the love that the two of us will always have for each other;
2) There's the love that we'll find with our next partners.

So even though it feels like it is slamming shut in my face right now, I gotta believe, along with Anna, that:

Love is an open door...

Optimistic

Yesterday I put my ipod on shuffle, seeing what it would choose for my birthday. I forwarded right past the first song -- a song I hope I never have to mark a day with because it's really freaking depressing -- Alone by Low. Apropos, at least the title, but too dang somber.

But the very next song was more like it, title and chorus:

You can try the best you can
If you try the best you can
The best you can is good enough

And I am feeling much more optimistic today after an early morning, tearful phone call in which the man I've spent nearly four years loving and I called it quits. For reals. I know, I know, I've probably said that before, but this time it feels really different. It feels like it is time to give us both a chance to be where we need to be in life, and as fond as we are of each other, that just isn't together.

This time there isn't the same hope, at least on my part, that if this just happens or that just happens in time or in the right way, etc., etc., etc., we will be able to be together. It's just not going to work. Period. End of story.

It's sad. It's disappointing. And a part of me feels angry, though I know from my years in Alanon that anger is an emotion that has one of three things lurking underneath: hurt, fear, or frustration. Yeah, I feel all three of those, thank you very much, but most of all, I feel hurt. I felt more frustration before we threw in the towel -- now I feel more peace -- but I am definitely hurting. And fear? Yeah. A little. I know it is irrational, but I've never had a love like that before, so there's a little bit of fear that I never will again. I believe I will, I do, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to a little bit of fear that I won't.

The last time we broke up, my whole life was consumed with the grief. I guess the good news is, that means I've already done a lot of the grieving. It feels like it's time to move on now, and like I can move on now. I've been tired of being alone for nearly a year now -- and now I can actually do something about it.

This one's optimistic...

...about the new love that is coming her way. It just has to be.