I write when my soul scales and plants a flag on top of the highest mountain and equally, I write when my soul falls over and rolls back down that mountain to crash confused, drunk and broken……..straight into a fucking tree.
~ from A Gardeners Life in Motion
finding that breath again. i hate feeling out of control, feeling weak, feeling unable to make things better for everyone.
last night his presence was in my room again. fuck. his ghost keeps waking me up and i’m calling out, what’s the message? why do you make me feel afraid? i wake up after seeming hours and i’ve only been asleep for 20 minutes. i put on my glasses and leave the light on – i don’t want to be in the dark anymore. i don’t want to feel afraid anymore. that trembling feeling of loss.
you ever try to connect the dots? this happens for a reason, they say. okay, so let me look at these events and see how that led to this which led to that. all it does is cause me to blame myself. what could i have done to keep him alive? i was his oldest daughter and he left me. not once, not twice, but over and over.
then i find men who do the same. unsure of themselves and transferring all those issues onto me. i feel bad and i feel guilty and i feel i should take care of them. they respond and then they love big and then they do just what he did. they disengage. and i leave. or i let them leave.
my father is dead. my father is DEAD. i saw him lying there. i saw him breathe and then it stopped and i knew it was over, that my life was intrinsically different at that point. that i was shattered. he looked at her last, not me. i made it okay for him to look at her first. he’s all she ever had.
me ? i don’t need anyone. i’ll be fine by myself. it’s easier by myself. when you are alone they can’t touch you. they can’t hurt you. your dog always loves you, who else does? i don’t know. i can say intellectually that i do, but i find myself waiting to be rejected, assuming loss is just around the corner, or piling on my love so thickly that it suffocates. if i love you enough you won’t leave right? oh i scare you? i’m too much? too honest? christ i can never make you happy.
so i see him in my dreams as shadows on my ceiling, as the walls caving in, as the floodgates opening. aimee lynn, he says in that deep, booming voice. i hear my father every time i laugh out loud and others turn because i am no longer afraid to enjoy myself. i feel his soul near when i find myself shooting the breeze with the managers i work with, getting them to open up and be themselves instead of job titles. when my dad was good he was great. he was beautiful and full of life and god don’t let me go down the path where he abandoned that. don’t let me become cynical and starved and running away from the people who love you.
my whole life i’ve been surrounded by broken pieces of glass. people desperately trying to glue themselves together, looking at themselves in the mirror, distorted, reflecting other images. did they ever see who i was? i don’t think so. they were busy looking back at themselves, adjusting their seams, making kissy faces in the mirror, performing.
so i prepare to sleep tonight and i think of the chubby face of the baby boy who makes this little squeal whenever i catch his eye as his mama walks him past my house. i think of how it soothes me, it helps me breathe, and i remember that what i want is not what she wants. it is what he wanted for me when i was little, before he lost his way.
may i allow myself to be found.