For Autumn, For Winter

I am so ready for autumn days. The cool crisp air. The way the light changes somehow, making everything a certain kind of resplendent. Cozying up in the evening as the sun fades. Making warm meals and soups. Debating if it's time to turn on the heat but opting to keep relishing the chill a little while longer – while it's still a choice. 

Fall enlivens my heart each year. Even if it's inevitable to lead into winter's harshness, for some reason it refreshes me. Though it never feels like it stays long enough. All of a sudden the sky loses that glow and all the colors disappear for the monochrome. Oddly, I find myself craving that too. 

Of all the things to stir such a longing in me, I was looking through my photos from 2017. To say that was a rough year is an understatement. A few good things got their start that year but I was in the low for most of it. It's sort of when I say it all started. I was sometimes putting on a happy face (more times than I can recall, I'm sure), and some others, clinging to something rare and small and quietly joyful. It was a year of loss, struggle, challenge, and loneliness. All the pain of that time began in the cold season. 

I feel myself longing for such a season, to curl up with my grief in. To not have the sun guilting me in constant, but to cherish its sparse rays. To be in a time that things around me are cold and unknown, but there's a promise of familiar vibrancy ahead. That I don't have to believe in it, it will just come. And carry me along with it.

My heart is in winter. And so it longs for winter around me. To give me space to hide away with my grief, and eventually to melt the dull, harsh grayness in reveal of whatever winter held in place with its chill. Preserved through a biting freeze, yet to become. 

Really maybe I am ready for autumn because I long for winter. Because autumn teaches us that things die away by no choice of our own and we must simply exist in the season. That then the next season will be harder, less poignant, and a little more to the bone.

But I think there comes a spring – well maybe some part of me knows, and is craving autumn days. 

Alone at the Bottom

I have felt completely tossed and tumbled, like being swallowed in a sea of confusion. Wearily trying to find my way to the surface, to catch my breath and it pulls me back. 

This is the biggest rejection of my life. There is no simple way to process it. Not everyone has experienced this kind of personal rejection. Likely few have been completely blind-sided by someone they let their walls down with. So I keep trying to explain it and saying that I can't find the right words to describe how much it has afflicted me psychologically. (A therapist nails it in the caption here.) When the reality you've lived in for over a year is brought into question, you start to think that maybe the love you thought you were given was also an illusion. I don't know, because I don't know what was going on, other than I wasn't getting the whole truth and was being kept happy for some reason. The ironic thing is how much it hurts in the end. Keeping up a charade only made this so much harder to process. When what you thought to be true for a long time is revealed to be partly a show, it is incredibly exhausting and complicated to not only grieve but try to make sense out of what it is you're even grieving. Am I losing someone I loved, or did I really know that person? Am I losing the kind of love I'd been hoping for, or was that all just a show too? Can I trust my perception of reality? How about of whether someone is genuine? Why work so hard to make me feel loved, then cut and run the moment it was most convenient?

These are among the questions I struggle with. But am told "one day it will get better" - how? Just accept that a partner could leave at any moment? I'd rather be alone than let someone do this to me again. "You say that now..." yes, I do. How should I keep believing that I want a companion to share life with when I was just shaken to my core by thinking that I'd found that with someone who hurt me instead? "You don't deserve this" and "Someone would be lucky to have you" not to sound conceited but, I know. I actually don't question my worth, I question why giving my best wasn't enough? Or not desirable? Why being me was sustaining but not commitment-worthy? It's not what I believe about myself, but what I was shown. 

And it's almost like my system is telling me I'm being abandoned, which makes it so terrifying to be alone – alone in my house all the time, alone all day; sometimes days in a row, alone in my finances, alone in my cooking, alone when I go to sleep and alone when I wake up – yet I cannot fathom how I could ever know that I'm safe in an intimate relationship again. Or how I'd muster up the courage to risk it.

You'd think it's been a month and a half, I'd start to be okay. But I'm still struggling. Every day. My extravagant self-care consists of eating and bathing regularly, plus a 20-minute walk daily. I don't know when I'll feel good enough to work. I can't afford not to, but I happen to have an emotionally involved job. Even the paperwork is a growing disaster. The dishes pile up. The house is a mess, but no one sees it. I find myself wondering how many days go by that no one even thinks of me now. Who am I really important to? The person to whom I thought for certain I was, is contentedly moving on. Which tells me I was pretty disposable to someone I thought loved me. (Or was thought of as strong enough to handle it.) And that feels incredibly lonely. 

A close second is being with others and trying to share how this all feels, only to be told it gets better, or there's a lesson, or it hurts so much because that's how much I loved... It's hard to pull off but it's more kind not to make someone feel alone when they are with you.

Which has also made me realize something I don't think many people think about. Societally we're not only very focused on romantic love, but we're also incredibly busy. Chase after all the experiences. Work work work. Grind grind grind. To go from being in an intimate relationship for years to solo out of nowhere, is to experience a kind of whiplash. And what feels like no relief in sight, because we live in a way that the romantic relationship is primary and everything else is supplementary or optional. Until you're single, and then all you get is supplements. And yourself. Which, I can only speak for myself, but I am not an endless well to meet my own needs. Some of them, yes, but also for some I need others. That's to be human. Contrary to the popular individualism of the day.

So that's all I'm navigating mentally and emotionally right now. Facing down my 30th birthday which, frankly, I don't really care about. I was looking forward to it but the past year has been so up and down, that it sort of seems like it'll be just another Monday. 

The one thing, the one cliche I can tell myself that doesn't totally feel false or invalidating is that it must be only up from here. This is my rock bottom. My lowest place. And I'm on the ground. At least I love myself enough to try to keep going, to keep crawling, because maybe, possibly someday there's some hope in the future. 

Grief and Knowing Yourself

"To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom" -Socrates

In the past many weeks I have seen so much of myself. Though they've been weeks of living hell, hanging on to functioning – if you could even call it that. I've always gleaned from and studied what I'm experiencing, always hoping to gain understanding.

If I had a dime for every time I'd been told not to overthink, I'd have...some amount of money. Some dimes. But I know the line between processing and slipping into obsession. To process, my mind will turn something over and over until I understand it. Whether it's learning how something works because it interests me, or understanding human interactions to try and be better or at peace. These last several weeks have been set on the latter. Making sense out of this.

In this time, I've been getting these gut feelings, followed closely by a wave of fear that would topple me and attempt to destroy my footing. There were a few days that I'm not sure I'd ever been so challenged mentally and emotionally in my entire life. I thought back to past breakups, and while they were trying times with much processing, they did not compare to this. Though I hadn't quite put my finger on why.

But these little moments of clarity have come. I know myself, I'd think, I know what went on and who he is. I know.

I'd reached out for support because I was suffering so greatly. I needed to make sure others were aware of me. I felt an immediate and sudden shift to my aloneness. But with sharing of trouble, comes advice. I tend make my mind up and then test my certainty against advice or input. When down for the count, this became slightly less important than trying to eat something that day.

Still, I felt that knowing inside of me. I felt a newfound sense of attunement with myself. See, I'd been struggling with feeling distant from many people, and within that feeling like I'd been changing and growing so much over the past several years, that some in my life didn't know who I am now. I looked back at past painful struggles with grief and moving forward after the loss of a relationship, and I correlated it with when depression set in. At the time, I was beginning to question my faith and find less comfort in it, more unease. This put a discomfort in some of my relationships, as well. Not only was there misunderstanding or a felt lack of space for grief over the relational loss, but it is incredibly difficult to question the Christian faith.

The past few years then, I lived with the weight of this. Going on hiding a part of myself, and feeling to some extent like I was both alone and could not fully trust others. What I'd actually done was grown weary of expressing who I was and what I believed, whether about grief or about questioning a long-held belief system.

As I felt myself thrashed among the waves of grief in this recent loss, I knew I had to reach out for help and tell others how to show up for me, and that I had to be authentically messy as long as it took. This approach has been incredibly healing for me in regard to those old wounds. I think it's something I could only allow myself to do because of the work I've done (with the help of therapy) and what I've learned in spite of depression over the past years, particularly this past year.

It is difficult, especially in times of grief, to be aware of oneself and find the energy to fight for that self. It is risky and feels even more vulnerable to ask others to be there for you. And it is all necessary to allow the grief to be with you.

"To thine own self be true." -Shakespeare

Neither Can I Know

My heart is longing for yours,

so.

My body aches and tenses,

and wonders,

where did my love

go?

My mind races and dances,

to the field of moments and 

fro.

My eyes give generously, 

dousing seeds of my 

sorrow.

Yet something in me dares to hope,

waits for you to 

show. 

Because if all of me can't understand,

then neither can I 

know.

The Split Path

Man, it really blows to wake up every day feeling like shit.  I didn't feel this way in depression for some time...  I feel numb, hollow, and achy all at the same time.  The actual thought of him never being in my life again is unreal.  I swear it feels like my chest – my heart actually aches. 

Then I go back, always the same, to wondering how in the hell would I ever do this again?  In the past, I wanted to want to marry someone, just because we were together.  Now, I wanted to be with and build a life with him, I began seeing the way we were in each others' lives as beginning to build a shared life.  I saw someone I trusted to share well in life's challenges, who gave me comfort and support and laughter, who shined a light on my dark days. 

There are many reasons and yet no clear one as to why we are not anymore.  Maybe that makes it hardest of all.  He was there and present, loving me so well, I never thought there was a major plot twist coming.  It's like all my systems cannot process the change in course. 

And I believe that love stays.  I value the trust that I've earned, the person who I love...I just don't know my place, anymore.  The one that he wants, not whatever one he thinks I should have.  

My damn heart keeps hoping.  I'm so rooted in my gut, that I can't go in the direction of "shoulds".  It's like I have to follow through, to the end of the path, or the fork, whichever it may be, to believe against her.  It's not that she's never been wrong, that inner voice, it's that too many times I've doubted her and messed things up. 

It does feel like I'm at a fork, and either path appears treacherous.  There is no way without pain.  I've sat here a few days.  I'd started down one, but something didn't feel right.  Maybe I'll just never learn how to not be loyal to a fault.  I've tried before and it wasn't less painful, nor did it evidence being "right". 

I suppose that's kind of how my gut-inner-voice works though.  I'll sit here, at the split path, until she tells me the way.  And I'll do my best to trust her, – and if she's wrong, I'll double back.  But either way there is pain. 

Unlike Anything

This is a grief unlike anything I've ever known. 

It follows me, 

and sees what I see, 

then descends on me. 

My heart has never known 

how to rip the band-aid off 

of love.

I long to do anything 

to lend my mind some rest, 

but it won't take. 

Even from the moment I feel my body wake, 

the sadness is there. 

All day the longing lays in wait, 

for a reminder of your missing touch,

to take my breath away. 

I'd be lying if I were to say

I didn't feel a little foolish 

for setting my heart on something, 

with sureness 

I had no business having. 

But the days slide by, 

drenched in my tears. 

Missing you, maybe forever. 

Maybe,

foolish as I am, 

I'll dare to dream of your embrace.

Single, Pushing 30

One of the hardest things for me to process about the end of this relationship is the implication that I should hope for a new one in the future.

Not long from now, I turn 30. I'm at a place in my life where making new friends is hard enough, let alone the thought of trying again to find a life partner – I don't want to. I'm at this point where I just want to be known. In my early 20's, I loved the life of meeting people constantly and having a lot of brief encounters, finding that the world is full of people to be known and opportunities to have fun. I had so much fun! I knew so many people, just a little bit – which tends to be enough for the good times. I was also constantly learning about life, able to experience it to the fullest in any given moment.

I'm not scared of turning 30, I've sort of been looking forward to it. But for the past couple years I've been feeling the change that comes at this time. It's harder to make friends. It's harder to meet people, let alone people who share your values and your humor and your interests. The people you know are harder to spend quality time with.

As I struggle to begin adjusting to being single again, I can't help but think of how disinterested I am in the get-to-know-you process, particularly teaching others about me and certainly not investing in others only to find out there's a barrier. And I would love more friendships but I want to skip to the comfortable part; to the depth. I don't want to be single forever (and now there's my eggs to think about, thanks 30's), but the thought of wading through profile pictures, trying to sum myself up in a limited amount of characters, getting ghosted from chats and dates, nearly being taken advantage of, and wondering if I'm "their type", if I'll be good enough...

Not to mention, I work hard in relationships. I think a lot about them. I want them to thrive. I want to feel free to be myself in them. In the past few years, I've narrowed my focus to a few close friendships that feed me and give me life. But it's the nature of things that the older you get, the less time we have for one another. So the loss of an intimate relationship at this stage of life is especially challenging. I find myself facing all these questions about the future that I can't possibly know the answers to; I don't bother to try, except that they are my constant, nagging companions in my solitude.

I know I'm past the age where the brief encounters give me life, or where I can convince myself there's a lesson or a purpose; what I want is to be known and to go deep. I'm past the point in my path where I'm hopeful about going back to a stage that was once fun and exciting, that now seems dreadful and hopeless.

And it's not that I need any convincing, it's that I've gotten to know myself better year after year. The past few have been hard, and I know that I am still burnt out. And I thought I'd found my person so I don't want to fill their space. Nor do I believe I could.