If I let myself sink into the Mariana Trench what would the weight of all that water do? Would it press on my ribcage until my lungs closed keeping me from breathing in any more pain? Would the silty ground cover my face and stop all these tears? Would this darkness blind aching eyes so I could finally be blind to all those memories?
On this day I have no fins or gills or flukes. My muscles don't flex. My scales might shine, but only on the outside. On this day I am alone. On this day no child's splash or friend's breech pulls me from the Trench.
On this day I am truly A Fish Alone.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A Fish with a Broken Leg
I know, I know. Fish don't have legs. But this fish alone does. And one of them is broken. How is unimportant. Suffice it to say that I had on very blonde fins that day.
And now, on top of the loneliness of this dark sea I can't even swim freely. Just walking is like being submerged at multiple atmospheres with heavy weights strapped around my waist. I try to glide or float but all I do is drag that damn foot along. I shuffle along at work amidst the pitying smiles of my coworkers, barely getting to the end of the day when I collapse in complete exhaustion.
I want to give to my friends and family. I want to look for that shining fish that I can leap and soar with. I want to dance over waves and beat rhythms over coral reefs. But I have no energy for anything but telling my body to heal.
And I can't help but wonder, why did this happen? What message is Poseidon sending me inside this strapped on cast? And am I ready to hear it?
The only answer I have come up with so far is to slow down. See my fibula as whole. Feel Thoreau's essential facts of life and find some wisdom in this broken time of full meanness.
And now, on top of the loneliness of this dark sea I can't even swim freely. Just walking is like being submerged at multiple atmospheres with heavy weights strapped around my waist. I try to glide or float but all I do is drag that damn foot along. I shuffle along at work amidst the pitying smiles of my coworkers, barely getting to the end of the day when I collapse in complete exhaustion.
I want to give to my friends and family. I want to look for that shining fish that I can leap and soar with. I want to dance over waves and beat rhythms over coral reefs. But I have no energy for anything but telling my body to heal.
And I can't help but wonder, why did this happen? What message is Poseidon sending me inside this strapped on cast? And am I ready to hear it?
The only answer I have come up with so far is to slow down. See my fibula as whole. Feel Thoreau's essential facts of life and find some wisdom in this broken time of full meanness.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A Wave Prayer
After a disastrous internet date where he kept grilling about my "feelings" regarding my ex- husband I ended up in tears and went to the only place I could think of. Shell Beach.
I thought if I sat by the waves and listened, God would talk to me and tell me how to get over all this pain. I texted my ex-boyfriend/spiritual guide with a thank you for our first date in this amazing place before walking down the steps to see if He would send me a sign.
The waves crashed again and again all around but no booming voice spoke from the stars. I just kept crying and saying, "God, what do you want from me? I'm doing all the spiritual work. I'm praying. I'm meditating. I'm listening to wise council. Why does it still hurt so much?"
No answer. No sweet arms around me. I was still alone. Just me, the stars and the waves. They kept coming again and again flooding my heart with beautiful memories. Times that would never come again.
The tide rose. I had to move up the steps to keep from being splashed. The waves never did stop.
And there was God's answer. Keep moving like those waves. Sometimes they'll throw you against the rocks and rip at your heart but there will be moments like holding Scott's hand that will rock your world.
You just have to be patient.
And never forget to pray.
I thought if I sat by the waves and listened, God would talk to me and tell me how to get over all this pain. I texted my ex-boyfriend/spiritual guide with a thank you for our first date in this amazing place before walking down the steps to see if He would send me a sign.
The waves crashed again and again all around but no booming voice spoke from the stars. I just kept crying and saying, "God, what do you want from me? I'm doing all the spiritual work. I'm praying. I'm meditating. I'm listening to wise council. Why does it still hurt so much?"
No answer. No sweet arms around me. I was still alone. Just me, the stars and the waves. They kept coming again and again flooding my heart with beautiful memories. Times that would never come again.
The tide rose. I had to move up the steps to keep from being splashed. The waves never did stop.
And there was God's answer. Keep moving like those waves. Sometimes they'll throw you against the rocks and rip at your heart but there will be moments like holding Scott's hand that will rock your world.
You just have to be patient.
And never forget to pray.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Tempest of Forgiveness
I want to take all of the men of my life; past, present, and future; on a journey. I would ask each to pack a bag, don traveling clothes, and meet me pierside. Together we would all board a ship and set course for open sea.
And each day from dawn till dusk I would stroll from one to the other and share my mind. We'd smile over memories, feel the throat lump of tragedies, and dream of islands in the distance. And when the sharing was done I would call a storm from the sky. Like a Prosperian task it would be a tempest to top all tempests. The winds would rip at the sails and lightning crack the mast. And each of these lovers, both imagined and real, would grip the railing and ready themselves for a drowning leap into the sea.
Only now would I ask Ariel for one final task: Calm the raging storm and gain his freedom. The skies would clear and azurean peace would surround us.
Then floating on that tranquil sea I would lay prostrate before them. I would tell each that any hurts or wrongdoings had been unintentional and beg to be forgiven. And with these words a freed Ariel would whip up a wind to carry them all to their own dreams.
And spinning laughter would fill the air.
And each day from dawn till dusk I would stroll from one to the other and share my mind. We'd smile over memories, feel the throat lump of tragedies, and dream of islands in the distance. And when the sharing was done I would call a storm from the sky. Like a Prosperian task it would be a tempest to top all tempests. The winds would rip at the sails and lightning crack the mast. And each of these lovers, both imagined and real, would grip the railing and ready themselves for a drowning leap into the sea.
Only now would I ask Ariel for one final task: Calm the raging storm and gain his freedom. The skies would clear and azurean peace would surround us.
Then floating on that tranquil sea I would lay prostrate before them. I would tell each that any hurts or wrongdoings had been unintentional and beg to be forgiven. And with these words a freed Ariel would whip up a wind to carry them all to their own dreams.
And spinning laughter would fill the air.
Friday, January 1, 2010
An Obsession Net
Well, he broke up with me. Again. How many times does this make it? Four, five? It's so many times I've lost count.
He set me free to roam the seas in search of others. First time he'd said that. I understood his reasons even though the pain was pulling on my heart like a weighted hook. So I didn't argue. Instead I tried to be noble and thank him for all he'd given me.
But I sure as Hell didn't feel noble. I was jealous, hurt, and pissed. I wanted to snake up to every woman he'd ever talked to, dreamed about, dated, or even thought about dating and sink my poisonous teeth deep into her flesh. I wanted to leave sad flowers at his door, in the bed of his truck, with a path of tearlike petals to trace his every step. I imagined making multiple cd's of songs that represented the beauty of what we'd had, wrapping them in black paper, and mailing them to his every haunt.
But I didn't do any of these things. I knew he had moved on and it was futile. So instead I dove deep into the undersea caverns of computer lurking. Night after night I peered at his websites, checking his moves and those of anyone he contacted. Even though part of me understood the craziness of it all, the other part felt like I needed to keep a hold of this last little bit I had left of him.
I was trapped in a net of obsession. Flailing from Facebook to Google. And then I did a terrible thing. I emailed a woman I was sure he was dating. One I imagined he'd compared me to. I tried asking her if they were together in what I thought was a polite way.
But to her I was not a gentle humpback singing exploratory songs but a stalking shark protecting its boyfriend meal. Not only did she not email me back, she blocked contact for both him and me.
And with that action went any chance of a noble parting. Justifiably angry, he was forced to block me too. And stop all contact. He knew it was the only way to cut me free from this net.
Yet another of his actions that I have to be thankful for.
Because even though I still feel some of the fibers dangling from my fins I'm no longer thrashing in obsession.
I am finally swimming free.
He set me free to roam the seas in search of others. First time he'd said that. I understood his reasons even though the pain was pulling on my heart like a weighted hook. So I didn't argue. Instead I tried to be noble and thank him for all he'd given me.
But I sure as Hell didn't feel noble. I was jealous, hurt, and pissed. I wanted to snake up to every woman he'd ever talked to, dreamed about, dated, or even thought about dating and sink my poisonous teeth deep into her flesh. I wanted to leave sad flowers at his door, in the bed of his truck, with a path of tearlike petals to trace his every step. I imagined making multiple cd's of songs that represented the beauty of what we'd had, wrapping them in black paper, and mailing them to his every haunt.
But I didn't do any of these things. I knew he had moved on and it was futile. So instead I dove deep into the undersea caverns of computer lurking. Night after night I peered at his websites, checking his moves and those of anyone he contacted. Even though part of me understood the craziness of it all, the other part felt like I needed to keep a hold of this last little bit I had left of him.
I was trapped in a net of obsession. Flailing from Facebook to Google. And then I did a terrible thing. I emailed a woman I was sure he was dating. One I imagined he'd compared me to. I tried asking her if they were together in what I thought was a polite way.
But to her I was not a gentle humpback singing exploratory songs but a stalking shark protecting its boyfriend meal. Not only did she not email me back, she blocked contact for both him and me.
And with that action went any chance of a noble parting. Justifiably angry, he was forced to block me too. And stop all contact. He knew it was the only way to cut me free from this net.
Yet another of his actions that I have to be thankful for.
Because even though I still feel some of the fibers dangling from my fins I'm no longer thrashing in obsession.
I am finally swimming free.
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