Ch-ch-changes

August is at an end. It is unseasonably cool, with weather better suited for the end of September than that of August. The heat is bearable. The evenings are cool and comfortable, perfect for lounging outside and stargazing. I feel the early arrival of fall in my bones and I welcome the change of seasons.

After an extended vacation (if you can consider falling ill, being hospitalized, having surgery, and then recovering a vacation), I return to work tomorrow. I’m glad that I will once again be productive and active. I’m also anxious and weary- I still tire so easily and am having problems with pain from the surgery (the location is far from optimal and is constantly irritated). I’m afraid I’ll be clumsy with the work, clumsy with my customers and their issues; that I’ll be inefficient and substandard in my interactions. I’m second guessing myself and my ability to do the job I’m there to do. I’m afraid of being overwhelmed and falling apart. I’ve become so fragile over the past few weeks that I’m more frightened than I like to admit that I might fall apart. Regardless of my anxieties and fears, tomorrow will come and I will show up for work and face all of my concerns.

I am restless. I get this way when the seasons change. Ch-ch-changes. It is a time of change- in nature and in my life. It’s strange how often the two coincide in my life. I am frustrated with myself and with this abnormal fragileness that I find myself experiencing. Little things set me off, hurt me, set me off into tears. I am needy but can’t seem to find the words to let those that I feel I need know that I need them- and then I fall apart when faced with their absence- emotional and physical- at those moments. I know I am cutting off my nose to spite my face by doing this and yet I just can’t seem to find the words. And anytime I do find the words, I am so afraid of being rejected that my heart catches in my throat and I can’t say what I want and need to say. I don’t even know why I’m afraid of being rejected. Well, yes, I do. No one likes rejection and with my emotional rollercoaster of late, the chances of rejection are probably higher than usual.
I don’t know what it is about being sick the way that I have been and what has turned into a recovery period that just seems to go on and on and on that has my emotions in such upheaval. I think that it might be the isolation, in part. I am lonely. I am very lonely. I ache with the weight of how lonely I feel. Perhaps it’s self-imposed to an extent.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about what I want. I have come up with the following.
I want forever. I want passion. I want quiet moments and just laying on the couch watching a movie or a sports recap or some strange show on the travel channel. I want something that gets in my face when I’m being an ass and stupid. I want to do the same when the opposite is true. I want honesty. I want indifference to be banned. I want romance. I want the day-to-day non-events. I want to talk- even if it’s fighting, I want to keep talking. I want to share laughter and tears and the moments in between when everything is nothing extraordinary. I want all the tomorrows. I want to hold hands. I want casual touches that are simple reminders that ‘Hey.. You’re here and I’m here, and I know it.” I want to be told I matter. I want to be old and gray haired and still holding hands. I want to pray and worship together and nourish the spirituality of my chosen mate, as he nourishes mine.
I want a lot. I know the chances of obtaining everything I listed above are slim. I know I ask a lot. I’m also willing to give a lot. I want to give a lot. I’d give almost everything (there are some things that I will never give on, and those revolve around my son).

I wrote about the right time in the last blog post I made and once again, the subject is on my mind. I wonder if the stars are simply misaligned and there is no way for anything to work out. There are moments when I consider the timing and I regret that anything ever began- not because I love any less, but because I love so much. I’m so unsure of myself and of everything.


I don’t know what the point of this has been. Mostly, I’ve been rambling, something I tend to do a lot. Perhaps an attempt to exorcise emotion through the act of writing and find some small amount of peace? Or maybe it’s a feeble attempt at explaining myself. Maybe I’m just full of hot air. I don’t know. Whatever the case, I’ve hung it all out to dry now, no take-backs.

Thinking more, I had to come back to this and edit it. I'm an idiot- a clueless, blind, dumb idiot. Proof that I never, ever learn. At some point, you realize you make rules for yourself for a reason. For a good damned reason. And breaking them is just plain stupid. So from now on, I will not be breaking my own rules. In the end.. I can't say that memories aren't worth the way things inevitably end, but I also can't say that I can handle doing this again. I can't handle it. Maybe it makes me a coward, but I can't handle putting myself out there and coming back broken again. That's why I put myself away for 6 years to begin with.
But with a conclusion comes a sense of release. It is over. There is nothing more to wonder about or frustrate over. It is simply over. So it goes.