Crazy in the Night

Jack-o-Lantern debut after Halloween eve carving

I loved Halloween when I was a kid. Dressing up. All that candy. But I'm not one of those people who continues to have fun with it as an adult by dressing up myself -- maybe one day I will be -- but I'm not now.

So with one kid too grown up to trick or treat and one who wanted to go out with her friends from her Dad's neighborhood, I was content to have Halloween this year consist of carving the pumpkins my parents grew for us and getting to see the kids in their costumes briefly.

My ghostbuster and my zany teenager

Or mostly content. I decided I didn't really feel up to staying home to answer the door, so I took myself to a movie. Gone Girl. It was a great flick, and I love being at the movies -- especially at Sundance - but I'd be lying if I said it was as much fun to be by myself sandwiched in between two couples at the movies as it is to be in a couple myself.

In other words, it felt tricky being me tonight, managing Halloween in the post divorce world, especially now that my world that no longer includes either of the boyfriends who were my favorite movies dates -- gay and actual.

It's also tricky navigating this trauma recovery process and all that it brings up, and much of which comes to me at night, while I'm sleeping, or trying to sleep.

Last night I had a dream that I was handing my ex-husband back his cell phone when it fell to the floor and shattered. He got super angry and I felt terrible about it. I also felt scared.

I know that the fear that I wake up with a lot of mornings is related to things that happened in the past rather than things in the present. I am learning to sort that out from the way my body feels, and it's giving me some information that is useful in the healing process.

All of this -- Halloween, the bad dreams -- makes me think of this song that I'm pretty sure came out when I was a kid, probably about as old as my daughter is now:

I used to love doing this when I was a kid!

Sometimes I really think I'm going crazy in the night
When I hide down in the covers and I won't turn out the light
I think nothing's gonna get to me but then again it might
What can I do to keep from going crazy in the night?

I need a drink of water but I swallow hard instead
'Cause it's hard to move a muscle when you're frozen in your bed
If I could make it to the phone before I die of fright
What can I do to keep from going crazy in the night?

Sometimes she really thinks she's going crazy in the night
When she hides down in the covers and she won't turn out the light
She says nothing's gonna get to her but then again it might
What can she do to keep from going crazy in the night?

When my man left, my kids got me a teddy bear

There's a monster on my ceiling, there's a monster on the wall
There are thousands in the closet, now they're coming down the hall
I'm so hidden they can't find me but then again they might
What can I do to keep from going crazy in the night?

I'm not so worried about monsters; thankfully, I feel safe in my house even when I'm by myself. And I have people I can call and talk to about the nightmares -- some of which are much more upsetting than the one about the cell phone I described above.

And I know I'm not going crazy, no matter how disturbing some of my dreams are. I know that this process of opening to healing the deepest wounds of my childhood is what will lead me to wholeness. Seems like that's worth just about any price -- including a peaceful night's sleep...

Not a Bad Thing

It's super common for people to talk about the importance of timing in romantic relationships. Soon after I met the New Englander, when we both glimpsed that we had all the elements of a great love going for us, he said he was worried that the timing just might not work out for us.

I rejected that notion, in the way that I do, or maybe I could say did, because it didn't fit with my vision, my picture of how my life was going to go. In my picture, when I fell in love like we did, the man I fell in love with was going to swoop in, put a ring on my finger, knock me up, and give me everything I felt I didn't have coming out of my divorce.

Yeah, so that's not how it works. At least, that's not how it worked in our case, as anyone who has visited this blog in the past four years knows.

At the gym today, Justin Timberlake came booming through the speakers, and as he sang, I realized I shared many of the feelings expressed in these lyrics:

Said all I want from you is to see you tomorrow
And every tomorrow, maybe you'll let me borrow your heart
And is it too much to ask for every Sunday
And while we're at it, throw in every other day to start

Yep, that's pretty much how I felt after we spent our first weekend together. And I think he felt that way too, because not so many months later, he did move across the country to share his Sundays and most other days with me:

I know people make promises all the time
Then they turn right around and break them
When someone cuts your heart open with a knife, now you're bleeding
But I could be that guy to heal it over time
And I won't stop until you believe it
'Cause baby you're worth it

But one thing that was tough was that I both wanted to be rescued and needed to be the one to rescue him. Now I understand that what I really needed was to rescue myself and give him the space to rescue himself, but, well, I didn't understand that until after three years had passed and he'd moved away again.

How much of us not being together now is about timing? I think it remains to be seen. Previously I would have said a lot -- because I saw myself as so much more ready and so much less fearful than he. Turns out, I wasn't ready for marriage number two. Thought I was -- but I wasn't -- and neither was he. Also, as I mentioned recently, I was carrying a lot of fear around myself -- fear that got in the way of me having the kind of intimate relationship I want.

There's definitely a part of me -- it was there early on in feeling bad that he had to leave his life behind to be with me, and it's there now because nothing has changed with my geography -- that is feeling this chorus:

So don't act like it's a bad thing to fall in love with me
'Cause you might look around and find your dreams come true, with me
Spent all your time and your money just to find out that my love was free
So don't act like it's a bad thing to fall in love with me, me
It's not a bad thing to fall in love with me, me

But I have to ask myself, how much of me feeling that way is about me not knowing, deep down inside, that I'm worth a cross-country move (or two) and then some?

So once again, I'm gonna work on using this space to heal and accepting what is. Which, for the moment (and almost all the moments since I met him) includes feeling like this about the New Englander:

Now how about I'd be the last voice you hear tonight?
And every other night for the rest of the nights that there are
Every morning I just wanna see you staring back at me
'Cause I know that's a good place to start

No I won't fill your mind
With broken promises and wasted time
And if you fall, you'll always land right in these arms
These arms of mine

At least, he will if he comes close enough for me to catch him...

Unthought Knowns

This, Eddie, is the path I'm taking today. See it there on the left?

Here in Wisconsin, we don't get 70 degree days in late October all that often, so when we do, I like to try to take full advantage.

This past weekend, I thought I might get to do some mountain biking with my nephew. My sister's family lives close to Kettle Moraine, a pretty fun place to mountain bike but too far for me to go if I only have a couple of hours. But my nephew's bike wasn't working properly, so I was going to go by myself when my sister volunteered to go with me.

Riding with my sister was awesome in that I got to feel like we were playing in the woods together like we did when we were kids, but I didn't get to ride as fast, as hard or as long as I would have if I'd been on my own.

So today I decided to head back to Kettle Moraine and do some more riding. I was mostly alone, but I was lucky enough to have my pal Eddie Vedder join me for part of the ride via this song in my head:

Muddy calves make me feel bad ass in the best way

All the thoughts you never see
You are always thinking
Brain is wired, the brain is deep
Oh, are you sinking?

Feel the path of every day
Which road you taking?
Breathing hard, making hay
Yeah, this is living

I know, Eddie. That's exactly what I think when I ride my mountain bike, especially under conditions like the ones today, captured here: fall colors, just enough mud to make it interesting.

Look for love in evidence
That you're worth keeping
Swallowed whole in negatives
It's so sad and sickening

Feel the air up above
Oh, pool of blue sky
Fill the air up with love
All black with starlight

Feel the sky blanket you
With gems and rhinestones!!!
See the path cut by the moon
For you to walk on

For you to walk on...

Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing here...
Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing left...
Nothing left, nothing left
Nothing there, nothing here...

See the path cut by the moon
For you to walk on
See the waves on distant shores
Awaiting your arrival

Dream the dreams of other men
You'll be no one's rival
Dream the dreams of others then
You will be no one's rival

Wait, what? I would think that it's by dreaming your own dreams that you'll be no one's rival, and I think that's exactly why allowing ourselves to dream our own dreams is frightening. Because we know we are the only ones who can make them come true.

Speaking of lyrics you have to think twice about, I think the title of this song is genius. It reminds me of, and I'm guessing it may be derived from, Donald Rumsfeld's famous quote:

"...because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones."

Yep. But leave it to my pal Eddie to come up with a brilliant expression to connote something deeper and more important than any known that we know by thinking about it: the knowns within our being that are beyond thought. The ones I get in touch with when I'm playing in the woods, with my sister or by myself. The ones I feel when I get to hug my children, hear my lover's voice, or manage to complete my yoga practice even when I feel like I don't have it in me. I do. Beyond thought. I know it:

A distant time, a distant space
That's where we're living
A distant time, a distant place
So what ya giving?
What ya giving?

Me? I'm giving to this world as much time as I possibly can present in the unthought known of my being, and I'm hoping soon to be able to make my work more formally about helping others do the same...

High On You

High On You, Kid Style: Getting the Leaves Off the Roof

Driving home yesterday from my nephew's birthday celebration, my daughter and I found an awesome radio station that seemed to play one old cheesy number for mom followed by one more current cheesy number for daughter.

I got especially excited about hearing this one again:

There you stood, that'll teach her
To look so good and feel so right
Let me tell you about
The girl I met last night

It's understood, I had to reach her
I let the wheel of fortune spin
I touched your hand before
The crowd started crashin' in

Now I'm higher than a kite
I know I'm getting hooked on your love
Talkin' to myself, runnin' in the heat
Beggin' for your touch
In the middle of the street

And I, I can't stop thinkin' about you, girl
I must be livin' in a fantasy world
I'm so high on you

Smart and coy, a little crazy
The kind of face that starts a fight
Let me tell you about
The girl I had last night

Piercin' eyes, like a raven
You seemed to share my secret sin
We were high before
The night started kickin' in

Now I'm screamin' in the night
I know I'm getting hooked on your love
Talkin' to myself, runnin' in the heat
Beggin' for your touch
In the middle of the street

And I just kinda drove with the feeling of how much I miss being loved by a man in the physical plane. I get that there's a reason for this time to myself. I do. And I know that it will come to an end at the right time for me, in whatever way is best for me. I'm not in control of this process. I could try to take control, as I have in the past, by trying to arbitrarily stop feeling what I'm feeling or finding someone else to scratch the itch for me. But I don't see either of those roads as leading to liberation. I've been down them both before, and I can tell you they did not lead anywhere good.

So I'm going to hang in with the discomfort and stay with the process this time as best I can. Sorry Survivor, but this girl lived in a fantasy world for much of her life. It saved her, but it was ultimately an empty, lonely place to be, and now she's breaking out:

And I, I can't stop thinkin' about you, girl
I must be livin' in a fantasy world
I've searched the whole world over
To find a heart so true
Such complete intoxication
I'm high on you
I'm high on you
I'm high on you

Riding home from my yoga practice this morning, I started singing this song aloud, and I realized that maybe it's my heart I've searched the whole world over to find.

At the end of my group each week, the group leader reads the following message from the Hopi Elders, who would suggest that is indeed the case:

"There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water.
See who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt. The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!
Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration. We are the ones we've been waiting for..."

Shine

The birthday boy

 I've been teaching yoga at a health club downtown for about three years now. Because people want to be able to come on their lunch hour, the class is only 45 minutes, which is a little tricky as a teacher -- it's just not really enough time to get everything into a class the way I'd like. I used to just teach once a week, but recently I've started teaching twice.

After yesterday's class, one of my regular students came up to me and said how much she enjoys my classes and how much she feels I've matured as a teacher. It was super nice of her to say that, and it matched what I've been feeling lately -- much more sure of myself as a teacher. I reckon part of it is just having those years of teaching experience under my belt, but an even greater element is how much more dedicated I am to my own practice and what that enables me to offer as a teacher. Let's face it -- we want our teachers to have something we want - something to emulate. And the fact that I've had to work as hard for it as I have means I'm an even better role model for people who are struggling with the same practice themselves.

This song came to me as apt for marking this day, as I both celebrate my ability to shine my light, and give a shout out to my bright light of a nephew who turns 17 today:

Give me a word - give me a sign
Show me where to look - tell me what will I find? (What will I find?)
Lay me on the ground and fly me in the sky

We're a shiny bunch, aren't we?

Show me where to look - tell me what will I find? (What will I find?)

Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down

Love is in the water - love is in the air
Show me where to look - tell me will love be there? (Will love be there?)
Teach me how to speak - teach me how to share
Teach me where to go - tell me will love be there? (Will love be there?)

Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down
Oh - Heaven, let your light shine down

This next verse is my favorite. Because I get that it is important to open to the world around us and I see that as essential at getting in touch with our own divinity, but I also think there's a certain part of shining that is a choice we make for ourselves:

I'm gonna let it shine - I'm gonna let it shine
Heaven, let your light shine on me
Oh, yeah
Heaven, let your light shine on me

Shine
Shine on me, yeah
Shine
Come on and shine

Cruise

Heard this song playing today at the gym and I gotta admit, it didn't annoy me as much as it has in the past. Maybe it's all that Nashville I've been watching?

Baby you a song
You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

Hearing it reminded me of last summer (2013), when one of my kids' beloved former babysitters got married, and we went to the wedding (all four of us, since the New Englander was still a Wisconsin resident at the time). I remember seeing the happy couple heading up to the dance floor with this song playing:

Baby you a song
You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise
Down a back road blowin’ stop signs through the middle
Every little farm town with you
In this brand new Chevy with a lift kit
Would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it
So baby you a song
You make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise

I wasn't familiar with the song at the time, and it struck me as sort of funny because I didn't know they were country fans. But it wasn't hard to see that the way the bride and groom feel about each other is pretty darn aptly described by the lyrics.

Over the last few weeks, through the healing work I've been doing, I've gotten increasingly clear about how much I love the New Englander and just how well-suited I believe we are for one another. One could argue that the multiple, back and forth cross country moves that have already transpired and that would need to transpire to make it happen suggest otherwise, but I disagree.

You see, when we came together the first time, we were both seriously wounded by both our childhoods and previous relationships. We worked through a lot of it, but we couldn't work through all of it while he was living here. In retrospect, we were both just too afraid to really show up to each other the way we'd need to show up to make it work. We both had/have healing work of our own to do, and we had to do some of it separately.

A friend said to me when I got home from Portland and was feeling so strongly that it was wrong for us to part that in her own experience with her current love, it was the broken parts that still wanted to be with him. That didn't feel true for me at the time, and the more healing work I do, the more I know it is the best parts of me that believe that what I feel in my heart and my body with him and for him cannot be wrong. Have we had our issues in the past? Yes. Do I understand why people in both of our lives might wish we'd both just move on separately and be with easier or lighter or more similarly located people? I do. But I didn't fight this hard to be able to hear my heart and listen to my body's messages so that I could do what other people believe is the right thing to do. So I'm listening to my own wisdom.

And every time the two of us (and the four of us) come back together, there is a feeling that is just as strong if not stronger than ever that we belong next to one another. Before I started my trauma recovery group, I was still afraid of how things might work out if he did come back. But now I'm not. Now I feel confident that we can and we would give each other the space and the support to continue to do our healing work, all while enjoying the many, many benefits inherent in the way we fit together.

However, I'm not the one who would need to once again uproot myself and take a major topographical hit in the name of love. And I get that it wouldn't be easy, but I think it'd be soooo much easier than the last time around now that we're both so much more aware of our fear. And I think removing the question mark that's been hanging over us about whether we are going to choose to be one another's person and spend as much as possible of the rest of our lives together would make being together feel that much more solid. But I can't remove that question mark for him. I can only be where I am right now, which is open to sharing my life with someone who truly sees me and gets me and can help me continue to become my best self to a greater degree.

Pondering all this, and hearing the refrain to this song play continually inside my head (much to my son's chagrin when I sing it aloud), I was reminded of this scene in When Harry Met Sally when Harry tracks Sally down on New Year's Eve and says:

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

I hear you on that one Harry. That's how I'm feeling right now too...

Reason to Cry

My ipod woke me up with this song today, and as I lay in bed listening to it, I gotta admit, I did feel sad. It's not like all the lyrics really fit my situation, but the first verse sure makes me lonely for his physical presence:

Just to sit and talk
The way we used to do
It just breaks my heart
That I can't get close to you

Speaking of hearts, I realized something this weekend. One of the questions I'd been asking the New Englander is if he could trust his heart and body, but I could pose the same question to myself. My heart is set on him -- I know that could change at some point if things don't change with our situation -- but for now, I can hear this truth loud and clear. So what would it look like for me to trust my heart, to believe that it knows something I don't, or at least I don't know the whens or the hows? What if I spent less time worrying about what has happened:

I thought things would stay the same
I thought things were right on
In our sunny days
How could we go wrong

Now these days have found us
Right here where we stand
We thought we were so tough
But nothing worked out like we planned

Of everything in this world
I guess I'll never know why
Something as good as this could
Flower up and die

Especially since I know the goodness that we have together has not died. What if I trusted that I need this time as much as he does to get clear on my own stuff, to find my own source of happiness, rather than waiting for it to return:

When you lose your happiness
When no one's standing by
When nothing makes any sense
You got a reason to cry
When nothing makes any sense
You got a reason to cry

Don't get me wrong. I do have a reason to cry and I often do, but it isn't because nothing makes any sense. Things are making more and more sense all the time.

As for listening to my body, that's a little harder to discern. On the one hand it's sure about the New Englander, just like my heart. On the other, it has noticed that there's no one crawling in bed with me at night and would prefer to be getting snuggled and loved up...

You Should Know Where I'm Coming From

Happiness is a babe on my chest

This song is really beautiful, and I'm using it to mark this day both because so many aspects of it have been beautiful, and because I can still completely relate to the longing I hear in her lovely voice:

What if I said I'd break your heart?
What if I said I have problems that made me, me?
What if I knew I would just rip your mind apart
Would you let me out?
Maybe you can stop before you start

Maybe you can see that I just may be too crazy to love
If I told you solitude fits me like a glove
Would you let me out?

You ought to know where I'm coming from
How I was alone when I burned my home
And all of the pieces were torn and thrown
You should know where I'm coming from

The lighting was so magical at Quarry Ridge today after work!

These photos tell the story of some of the beautiful moments of my day -- coffee with a close friend and her baby snuggling on my chest -- mountain biking (complete with brand new trails and an on-site mechanic when I was having some troubles mid course) after work with the sun just beginning to set... I also applied for a new job that I have a really good feeling about and had an excellent practice this morning and TRX workout at noon in which I felt strong and capable (a nice contrast from how I felt this weekend).

I'd never heard of Banks before today, nor heard her, but I really love her sound. And I love how she finds a way to express what I so acutely felt before I started my healing journey:

What if I said I was just too young?
What if I said I was built on bricks of carelessness and crumbs
What if I said I'd be gone before I could come
Would you let me out?

The truth, I reckon, is that the only person who can let you out is you --- at least the only person who can let you out permanently. Don't get me wrong, it helps -- really helps -- to be loved:

Your sought out ways
My own, my own
But you turn me away from my low blows
Boy, you should've known

But no one else can do our healing work for us. And that means that even with support, it can feel like a lonely process sometimes...

Too Long

The beautiful red maple in my backyard

If I thought it was hard to get myself to yoga yesterday, it was sooooooo much harder this morning. I felt so much resistance. But I was committed, and I believe in the practice as a path of liberation, even when, or maybe especially when, it's not comfortable.

Not surprisingly, I had some big releases at practice, and as a special bonus, I got to spend the afternoon on the couch checking out the beautiful tree pictured here.

The ipod today dialed up this tune, which I thought was appropriate for a couple of reasons. First, my yoga teacher was talking to us this weekend about being present, and how that involves not having an eye on the future. That tree, he said, isn't dreading the moment when all its leaves fall to the ground. That's unique to humans.

And the second reason it feels appropriate is that the Alanon meeting I went to tonight was about the iterative nature of the healing process. We talked about how sometimes, it can feel in an instant like you haven't learned anything because you find yourself responding from the old place or having to relearn the same lesson over again. When this happens, there can be some frustration, and a feeling that the healing is taking too long:

It's been much too long, I feel it comming on
The feeling is getting strong
It's been much too long, I feel it comming on
The feeling is in my bones

Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it
Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it

At last the long wait is over
the weight is off my shoulder
I'm taking all control
My mind is set so free

I'm where I want to be
To get the best of me

Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it
Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it

I see, you feel the way I do, the feeling all so true
the good feelings coming through
My mind is set so free
I'm where I want to be, to get the best of me

You know you need it, I need it too
you know you need it, it's good for you
We're gonna move
You know you need it, I need it too
you know you need it

It's good for you

Yes, it is. Even when it doesn't feel good, the healing process is good for you. And while it might seem like it is taking too long, it's actually taking exactly as long as it needs to take...

Guts Over Fear

This weekend's yoga workshop was at the Farm!

I love Eminem. When I was at my rawest when I left my husband, it was Eminem who soothed my soul more than any other artist. Maybe because I could just feel that he gets what it's like to lose something and because he's such a good model for how that also makes you more:

Feels like a close, it's coming to
Fuck am I gonna do?
It's too late to start over
This is the only thing I, thing I know

Sometimes I feel like all I ever do is
Find different ways to word the same, old song
Ever since I came along
From the day the song called "Hi! My Name Is" dropped
Started thinking my name was fault
Cause any time things went wrong
I was the one who they would blame it on

I'm not quite as raw as I was back then, but processing all this old childhood stuff has left me pretty exposed. When I feel that way, I'd much rather stay in bed than get up and go to an all day yoga workshop, even if one of my very favorite teachers (pictured here) has come up from Chicago to teach us as he did this weekend.

The unofficial leader of our practice group made arrangements for the workshop to be held this time at Lucky Dog Farm in New Glarus. What a magical place! After our morning Mysore practice, we went into town to the Lucky Dog Farmers' new restaurant, Cow and Quince. So yummy!

All of this turned out to be well worth me pushing myself when I wasn't comfortable -- or as my boy Eminem and his girl Sia would say -- putting guts over fear:

Afraid to make a single sound
Afraid I will never find a way out
Afraid I'd never be found
I don't wanna go another round
An angry man's power will shut you up
Trip wires fill this house with tip-toed love
Run out of excuses for everyone
So here I am and I will not run
Guts over fear (the time is near)
Guts over fear (I shed a tear)
For all the times I let you push me around
And let you keep me down
Now I got guts over fear, guts over fear

That I do. And I have so much gratitude for the practice that has given me the container in which to continue working with my fear even when it doesn't feel like I have the guts. Like today. Because every time I roll out my mat, literally every time, guts win another victory over fear. And I like it when the good guys win...

Holding Back the Years

I heard this song on the radio in the car today, and the first verse, in particular, felt perfect for marking this day:

Holding back the years
Thinking of the fear I've had so long
When somebody hears
Listen to the fear that's gone
Strangled by the wishes of pater
Hoping for the arms of mater
Get to me the sooner or later

In the past week, in large part because of the weekly trauma recovery group I've just begun attending, I've gotten in touch with the fact that I've been living with what I'd describe as a low level but nearly constant fear my entire life (or at least all that I remember). Being able to see that is actually pretty amazing, and this morning, through sort of a weird set of circumstances that included my insomnia and a problem with my mountain bike, I had a long, unexpected heart to heart with the New Englander. The kind of talk we used to have all the time. It felt soooooo good. The way he hears me is truly a gift -- and it has done so much over the time I've known him to mitigate the fear. But the fear hasn't entirely gone away.

Yep, I've still got some work to do on myself, but I feel nowhere near as dark or desperate as Simply Red gets in the second verse:

Holding back the years
Chance for me to escape from all I've known
Holding back the tears
Cause nothing here has grown
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah

On a good day, like today, I know that so much has grown, and no tears or years have been wasted:

I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all of those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Cause nothing ever could oh yeah

And so much is good. I've got two amazing kids. I've got a bunch of close relationships with amazing people. I have a strong, healthy body that gets a little stronger and a little more flexible every day with my yoga practice. I've got professional skills and capabilities that are going to take me somewhere -- I just don't know exactly where yet. And I have so much love to give to the man who decides to share his life with me.

So while I wait for the answers to some of those big unknowns:

I'll keep holding on
I'll keep holding on
I'll keep holding on
I'll keep holding on
Holding, holding, holding...

Pictures of You

The New Englander circa late 2010 or 2011, I believe?

Woke up this morning with my old friends from The Cure playing inside my head, and instead of trying to go back to sleep, I plucked this photo from my bedside table and decided to sing it aloud:

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel

I love this particular picture of the New Englander, even though he looks quite a bit different from this now. For the last few years, he's had these awesome lamb chops that are just so wonderfully emblematic of his person. That facial hair is just one of many visible signs of how he became more self-embodied during the time we spent together. He used to feel that he had to be clean shaven to be -- I don't know -- respectable? But he's since figured out that the best kind of respect to bring to a job (and to life) is self-respect, and that comes from knowing who you are and embracing it.

And here's the thing I'm really realizing these days: We come to know and better understand who we are by loving and being loved. But hell yeah, it's scary, especially for those of us wounded while we were young and by the people who were supposed to love us. In the picture on this post I see a man saying "I see you looking at me and really seeing me and I think I like it but it also scares the shit out of me." And it did.

It's true that part of what is scary about letting someone love you is that they will see your shadow side, but maybe even scarier, and I think this is true in our case, is that they will see your magnificence. And that's particularly hard if a) you can't see it in yourself except fleetingly and/or b) you don't feel capable of living up to your own potential. In each of these cases, it can be painful to be confronted with your own loveliness.

When the New Englander and I were first together, I bristled a lot at his gushing about me. I wasn't used to it -- I hadn't dated anyone willing to be so gaga over me since like high school -- and it made me really uncomfortable. I didn't know why at the time that I bristled when he said simple things like "Hi beautiful!" but now I do know why. Because much of the time, I didn't feel beautiful.

Here's the rub: As time went on and I let myself love him all the way, I kept falling further and further in love with myself, too. I've never felt more beautiful than I do now with him when we are embracing our love for one another. I qualify that because we have had a history, in our relationship, of cycling in and out of being able to embrace the love. You know what creeps in when we aren't/can't, don'tcha?

The boys from The Cure sure do. It's fear:

Remembering
You standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering
You running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go

As I work through my old wounds, I am finally finding the courage to let it all go. Is it too late for us?

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you

I don't rightly know. I do know that the answer to that question doesn't really matter though, because while me finding the courage to let it all go is necessary for me to be happy with the New Englander (or anyone else), it's not enough. He'd have to find that courage too. And I know that he will -- whoever he is. My heart (and a certain other part of me that shall remain nameless but is also quite sure) is sure that my he is the New Englander, but either his isn't sure or he can't quite hear it because it's still covered up by a lot of fear. I get that. I've been there. And I can't control his process. I don't know whether he will ever get to a place where he can fully embrace himself, and I don't know that if he did, that it would mean we would make it.

But I do know this:

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you

For Your Glory

True confessions time: I started watching Nashville on Hulu Plus and I'm hooked. It all started with an article in the New Yorker about the guy who created it. I know so many people who say they hate country music, but do they really hate it, or just worry that it isn't cool to like it?

For me, the show takes me back to my childhood. Friday nights, my Dad would make popcorn, and he and my sister and I would settle on the couch and watch the Dukes of Hazard and Dallas.

Speaking of being taken back to my childhood, I'm doing some work right now to continue my own healing process, and I'm learning a ton about myself. It's going to be an ongoing process for sure, but already I can see how not being able to clearly hear my own voice has made it difficult for me to navigate my relationships with other people.

This song -- from the show Nashville -- has a bit more of a religious overtone to it, but it's about finding one's voice. Being able to hear one's heart. Letting it get broken open rather than living in fear of loss:

I'll rise up and be your voice
I made my choice.
This is my story.
Your songs are stored inside my heart
So break me apart
It's for your glory.
Let it pour out of me.
Let it pour out of me.
It's for your glory.

And whatever one believes about God or the Divine or the Universe or whatever it is that is out there -- I believe in a force for good -- I'm learning that tuning into my voice helps me better connect to that force for good. And that helps me treat everyone better -- myself, my kids, my loved ones -- and makes me feel more optimistic about the world in general.

See what a little country(/church) music can do?

Magic Power

The sound this man and tuba made was magical

Last night we went to a concert at UW-Madison. We went because my son needed enrichment credit for band, and after 8 hours at a soccer tournament (which my son's team won), let's just say none of us were too terribly psyched to head out for an 8pm concert.

But when this dude took the stage with his tuba -- I can't even begin to describe the sound. It isn't a sound I ever dreamed could come from a tuba, or from a man. I'm completely serious. It was absolutely breathtaking. I leaned over to my daughter and told her I was going to ask him to marry me. (I just looked up when he was born, and coincidentally, it was 1966, the same year as the New Englander.)

I guess I coulda used the tuba music to mark the day, but you know how I like my lyrics. And it just so happens that Triumph has a vintage classic that captures the magic that music can be:

Somethin's at the edge of your mind
You don't know what it is
Somethin' you were hopin' to find
You're not sure what it is

Then you hear the music
And it all comes crystal clear
The music does the talkin'
Says the things you want to hear

I'm young, I'm wild
And I'm free
I got the magic power
Of the music in me

She climbs into bed, she pulls the covers overhead
And she turns her little radio on
She's had a rotten day so she hopes
The D J's gonna play her favorite song

It makes her feel much better
Brings her closer to her dreams
A little magic power
Makes it better that it seems

She's young now, she's wild now
She wants to be free
She gets the magic power
Of the music from me

She's young now, she's wild now
She wants to be free
She gets the magic power
Of the music from me

If you're thinkin' it over
But you just can't sort it out
Do you want someone to tell you
What they think it's all about?

Are you the one and only who's sad and lonely
You're reachin' for the top
Well the music keeps you goin'
And it's never gonna stop

It's never gonna stop
It's never gonna, never gonna
Never gonna, never gonna
Never gonna stop

The world is full of compromise
The infinite red tape
But the music's got the magic
It's your one chance for escape

So turn me on, turn me up
It's your turn to dream
A little magic power
Makes it better than it seems

I'm young now, I'm wild now
I want to be free
I got the magic power
Of the music in me

I got the power, I got the magic
She's got the power, she's got the magic
She's got the power, she's got the magic
She's got the power, she's got the magic

I didn't, by the way, ask him to marry me. But I wouldn't have minded falling asleep to him playing that tuba nor waking up to it, either. Anyone with that much soul is bound to be pretty amazing in a lot of ways that this girl appreciates, though he did seem to know he was all that...

Feel Like Making Love

Woke up with this song running through my head this morning. What can I say? It's in the air. Snuggle season is right around the corner, and flannel sheets aren't the only warm thing this girl wants on her bed when the temperature drops.

I spent all last winter alone, but this year I intend to have a warm body by my side:

Baby, when I think about you
I think about love
Darlin', couldn't live without you
And your love

For a while there, I thought that was true about the New Englander. But I've had to live without him, and now I know that although it's not my first choice, I can do it:

If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday
I would wrap you
In the heavens
And feel it dyin' all the way
(Dyin')

And if I'm gonna live without him, I'm gonna need to open myself up to other possibilities. Otherwise I'm gonna resent the hell out of him for being away so long, and that's not gonna be good for anyone, because:

I feel like makin'
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love to you

Baby, if I think about you
I think about love
Darlin if I live without you
I live without love

And if I had the sun and moon
They were shinin'
You know I would give you both night and day
Love satisfyin'

I feel like makin'
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love
Feel like makin' love to you

But given my situation at the moment, I'm gonna have to change the lyrics just a bit:

Feel like makin' love to... who?

I trust the Universe is going to offer up an answer to that question before the snow really starts to fly...

Let's Get Physical

Last night I received one of the clearest messages to date that the New Englander is not in a position to give me what I want and need right now. I then proceeded to go to sleep and have not one but two dreams in which this song from one of my childhood faves wasn't, but could've been, playing in the background:

I'm saying all the things that I know you'll like
Making good conversation
I gotta handle you just right
You know what I mean
I took you to an intimate restaurant
Then to a suggestive movie
There's nothing left to talk about
Unless it's horizontally

Let's get physical, physical
I wanna get physical
Let's get into physical
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk
Let me hear your body talk

I've written about this before, but I read the book about love languages. I know mine are physical touch and quality time. Given that one of my primary goals right now is to love myself as much as I possibly can, I think my dreams were trying to tell me that it is time for me to be open to the love that is available in the present -- with all the dimensions I want, need and deserve:

I've been patient, I've been good
Tried to keep my hands on the table
It's gettin' hard this holdin' back
If you know what I mean

Because not doing that is denying myself something for the sake of something or someone that I have no way of knowing whether it or he will ever be able to deliver. So while I can't (and won't) deny that he brings out the animal in me:

I'm sure you'll understand my point of view
We know each other mentally
You gotta know that you're bringin' out
The animal in me

He's not someone who can bring that to Olivia's oh-so-natural conclusion with me:

Let's get physical, physical
I wanna get physical
Let's get into physical
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk
Let me hear your body talk

Let's get physical, physical
I wanna get physical
Let's get into physical
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk
Let me hear your body talk

At least not right now. So today, I'm asking for the willingness to be open to receiving the love I want and need in the present, because that's really all we've got:

Let's get animal, animal
I wanna get animal
Let's get into animal
Let me hear your body talk
Let me hear your body talk

I hear you talking, body. I know you want to get animal. Don't worry, I'm listening.

And so is the Universe...

I'm So Glad

I've been hearing this song inside my head off and on since this weekend, when my daughter related one of the most heartwarming things to me that I've ever heard.

The backstory: A couple of months ago, Monty Python and the Holy Grail was playing on Classics night at Sundance. My daughter loves that movie, so she begged me to take her, and I obliged. I've always found Monty Python mildly amusing, but there is nothing mild about the amusement my daughter takes in it. A bunch of people around her in the theater, including myself, were laughing because she was laughing this awesome laugh. Afterward she asked how I liked it and I said I loved it, mainly because I love her laugh.

Then this weekend I took her to see Dolphin Tale 2. She leaned over to me during the movie and said, "Mom, you know how you said you love my laugh?" Yep. "Well, Dad told me that he most sees you in me in my laugh." Isn't that just the most delightful thing you've ever heard an ex-husband say? I was so delighted, and so was she:

I'm so glad, I'm so glad
I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad
I'm so glad, I'm so glad
I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad

Don't know what to do
Don't know what to do
Don't know what to do

Tired of weeping
Tired of moaning
And I'm tired of crying for you

I love that now, five years out, we can be past all the petty bullshit and able to celebrate the beautiful things in one another that we see in our kids:

I'm so glad, I'm so glad
I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad
I'm so glad, I'm so glad
I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad

Rip Tide

This is probably my favorite frequently played song on the radio right now, which is, I reckon, a good sign about my mood these last few days:

I was scared of dentists and the dark
I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations
Oh, all my friends are turning green
You're the magician's assistant in their dream

Oh, and they come unstuck

Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man
I love you when you're singing that song
And I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

There's this movie that I think you'll like
This guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City
This cowboy's running from himself
And she's been living on the highest shelf

Oh, and they come unstuck

Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man
I love you when you're singing that song
And I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

I just wanna, I just wanna know
If you're gonna, if you're gonna stay
I just gotta, I just gotta know
I can't have it, I can't have it any other way
I swear she's destined for the screen
Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen, oh

That's the thing about my life right now. There are things I'd really like to know, but it doesn't appear to be time for that right now. So instead, I'm doing my Midwestern equivalent to running down to the riptide -- going mountain biking, playing softball with my daughter, walking in the sunshine -- and for right now, it feels like enough:

Oh lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man
I love you when you're singing that song
And I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong
And I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong

They Can't Take That Away From Me

I had a mercifully long sleep last night, and was delighted to wake to this song at 6:30am this morning:

Our romance won't end on a sorrowful note
Though by tomorrow you're gone
The song has ended but as the songwriter wrote,
The melody lingers on.

They may take you from me,
I'll miss your fond caress
But though they take you from me,
I'll still possess...

The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No they can't take that away from me
The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off key
The way you haunt my dreams
No, no they can't take that away from me

We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love
Still I'll always, always keep the memory of

The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till three
The way you changed my life
No, no they can't take that away from me

What a beauty. There are so many things I miss about the New Englander, but this morning, the thing I was missing most was the way he used to come into the kitchen while I was making breakfast, put his hand on my ass, and make the cutest noise ever.

 No, they can't take that away from me...

Don't You Wanna Stay

Here I am pre-ride, before my feet were numb!

I heard this song yesterday in the car on my way home from Fermenation Fest, and it came back to me this morning in the wee hours:

Don't you wanna stay here a little while?
Don't you wanna hold each other tight?
Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?

Yes, once again, I'm up earlier than I want to be, but I'm trying to just accept that maybe there's a reason for it. Time to write, perhaps?

Speaking of writing, I've begun my third attempt at writing a Modern Love column about my romance with the New Englander. I think the problem the first couple of times I tried to write it was I didn't know what the message or takeaway is. That could still be a problem, because I'm still a little confused, but this time around, I'm gonna own the confusion instead of pretending I get it.

You see, earlier this year, on MLK Jr. day, I asked him what his dream was, and he said: "You mean besides going to sleep and waking up next to Archie?"

That melted my big old heart, but it begs the question: What happened to that dream?

Close-up of the bean/bottle cap art

Did it change? I don't think so. Because I could feel in Portland just how sure our bodies and our hearts are about each other:

I really hate to let this moment go
Touching your skin, and your hair falling slow
When a goodbye kiss, feels like this

Don't you wanna stay here a little while?
Don't you wanna hold each other tight?
Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?

Don't you wanna stay here a little while?
We can make forever feel this way
Don't you wanna stay?

Let's take it slow, I don't wanna move too fast
I don't wanna just make love, I wanna make love last
When you're up this high, it's a sad goodbye

Yes it is. Take it from me.

Don't you wanna stay here a little while?
Don't you wanna hold each other tight?
Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?
Don't you wanna stay here a little while?
We can make forever feel this way
Don't you wanna stay?

Oh yeeah

Oh, you feel so perfect, baby
Yeah, you feel so perfect, baby

Don't you wanna stay here a little while?

I reckon a big part of him did, but the fear won out over the love.

Having that dream would've meant working through the fear, and he didn't have it in him, at least not at that point in his life.

Thankfully, I'm not going to let that happen in my own life. I'm going to fight for my dreams. I may not get to control who I spend my life with, but I can control whether I choose to be guided by fear or by love.

And I'm gonna choose love every single time...

Wings

This adventure girl is no fair weather rider

I woke up early this morning and decided to reach out to some friends in England. One of them, probably my closest friend the year I lived there, wrote back with some words of encouragement:

"Don't worry, the ones that run deep are the same ones that give us wings."

And I believe her. I do.

As my ipod reminded me this morning, so does Josh Ritter:

Yeah
It's my home—last night I dreamt that I grew wings
I found a place where they could hear me when I sing.

And today, even though the forecast included snow, rain, temperatures in the 30s and 40s, and strong winds, I decided to use my wings (with a little help from my Volvo) to head to Reedsburg for Fermentation Fest.

I was determined to "bike the Dtour" -- but decided to do half (approximately 25 miles) instead of all of it (50 miles) so that I could leave a few hours later and hopefully miss the rain.

My photos didn't manage to capture the beauty.

I set off about 1pm. This was my first long road ride on country roads -- and what a place to do it. It was hilly, and it was chilly, but man, was it beautiful.

Believe it or not -- and I guess you just might believe it since I've already described the weather -- I was the only cyclist I saw all day. Lots of people were driving the Farm/Art tour, but I was the only one on my bike this afternoon, at least that I saw. Which, I'm not gonna lie, just made me feel like more of a badass.

It also gave me plenty of time to just be in the present moment experiencing the day. Here were my big takeaways:


*Exceeding the speed limit on my road bike (in places where it was 25) was an awesome feeling.

*When it's really cold and windy, the downhills (although they allow you to go super fast) are super cold!

*Especially on those long climbs, I felt very grateful for both my fitness level and my fiery constitution.

*Cows are more interested in cyclists than one might think (or maybe I was just a little lonely).

*Wisconsin brat and beer cheese soup never tasted better than when I came in from the cold and my chicken and biscuit special included the soup bar for $7. Can't beat that!

*One cool thing about a long bike ride as opposed to a long run is that you can stop in the middle of burning tons of calories to eat a whole bunch, drink a beer, and then get right back on your bike without suffering for it.

*Spending four hours alone on a bike is good for the soul!

Short Skirt/Long Jacket

Today felt like a turning point for me. I've been dealing with lots of anger and sadness in relation to my recent/prolonged heartbreak, and today marked a departure from that. Today I was able to cruise out to CamRock after work to squeeze in some play time in the woods before yoga, and celebrate, as I rode, the man who reunited me with this awesome sport.

On the drive back to Madison, I heard this song -- which always makes me think of him -- and experienced that feeling like a good thing rather than a tragic thing:

I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes

I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack

I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnng jacket......

I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass

She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack

I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng.... lonnng jacket

I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends
At Citibank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen

She wants a car with a cupholder arm rest
She wants a car that will get her there
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler La Baron

I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnggggggggg jacket

Sometimes songs with silly lyrics are just really satisfying, as this one from Cake is, especially when it doesn't just make me miss the New Englander.

Speaking of things that are really satisfying, the yoga class I went to tonight was amazing. I was able to come into headstand with straight(er) legs, which is something I've been working on, and it ended with a 15 minute savasana complete with healing at the hands of the teacher, a Reiki master. I left there feeling incredible, came home, cleaned the house, did a couple of loads of laundry, got everything in order for my bike ride tomorrow, and now, I'm going to bed. Happy.

The Moon Song

Tonight I watched a really good, really sad movie: Her. I thought it did a masterful job of capturing the essence of the things that so often make a love go wrong: Someone checking out. Someone not managing to let the other person be who they need to be. Someone growing in a way that can no longer accommodate the other person.

Sigh.

Y'all know I'm intimately familiar with these experiences, so it wasn't an easy movie to watch, but it was cathartic.

And of course, there's the soundtrack.

I think this was my favorite song:

I'm lying on the moon
My dear, I'll be there soon
It's a quiet starry place
Time's we're swallowed up
In space we're here a million miles away

There's things I wish I knew
There's no thing I keep from you
It's a dark and shiny place
But with you my dear
I'm safe and we're a million miles away

We're lying on the moon
It's a perfect afternoon
Your shadow follows me all day
Making sure that I'm okay and
We're a million miles away

There was a line in the movie that I really liked. Don't know if I know it exactly but it was something along the lines of "I'm yours and I'm not yours."

Uh-huh. I think I see how that works now...

Unpack Your Heart

Ah, the human heart. I taught a yoga class about this incredible vessel yesterday, which seems a bit funny, since I can't even begin to understand it.

I've been listening lately to the CDs that my first love has made me over the years, and I realized something: the only song that he ever repeated from one disc to the next (decades passed between some of them) was the song Hurt.

Sometimes it just feels like there's so much hurt in this life. It's everywhere you look. And even the most magical feelings of love often get replaced by hurt. I say often because I know, not from my own life, but from the examples of others, that it is possible to love someone as much as I let myself love the New Englander and have it turn it very differently than that relationship turned out.

I was talking today to a bodyworker who advised me that now probably isn't the time to date, but when people start asking, to just stay really hypervigilant that I don't once again take elements of a person and a relationship and create a projection -- even if it's a really fucking beautiful projection -- of the partner and the love I am seeking. Because ultimately, that's what I did with the New Englander, because originally, that's what I did with my father.

Tricky business, this heart stuff. Luckily, like all hard things about being human, the difficulty and complexity of our hearts can be mitigated with poetry and music.

I'm going to start with the poetry. This poem is called Heart. It is from an episode of the New Yorker this summer, and it was written by Sue Song. I first read it when I was out in Portland in August, and it has come to symbolize for me the universality of the difficulty that two human beings so often have with loving one another:

When removed, I know
you will be more mahogany
than vermillion. The mass
of you less than one pound—
fisted fibre of muscle, language
of tremor under the breastbone
quieted.
Sorry for blaming you.
Too many nights I felt you
transform to the heaviest alloy
and demand to be carried,
rite of my fidelity to you.
Then, on whim, you’d dissolve
quick as mercury,
rise to cast my throat,
cause an allergy of tears.
I hated your cadence, betraying
me. Contraction and beat,
stenograph of your honesty
when my lips were complicit.
I understand you are sensitive.
Forgive those years I left you
pounding your Morse of grief, alone—
knocking against my sternum,
wondering if I was even there.

Wow.

And finally, from the speakers in the locker room this morning came this song -- a new one to me -- and it seemed hopeful:

Meet me where the sunlight ends
Meet me where the truth never bends
Bring all that you're scared to defend

And lay it down when you walk through my door
Throw all of it out on the floor
Your sorrow, your beauty, your war
I want it all, I want it all

Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart

Show me something the rest never see
Give me all that you hope to receive
Your deepest regret dies with me

The days when you stumble and fall
The days when you grind to a crawl
The treasure that hides behind your walls
I want it all, yeah I want it all

Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Unpack your heart

Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise

Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise
Into your darkness
I'll shine a light

Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence

Bring your honor, bring your shame
All your madness, I will tame
Won't you lay down, down your guard
Share your silence
And unpack your heart

Lovely.

Now here this, Universe: the next time I unpack my heart, it'll be with someone capable of making space for me, unpacking his heart, and leaving it unpacked, even when it gets scary and hard...