I have to say that I truly need a rest from writing in my blog. There just never seems to be enough hours in the day to type, edit, and publish.
Unfortunately that idea doesn’t seem to connect with any other part of my brain. It’s on overload most mornings when I wake up – just raring to go!
On a regular basis now I literally grab my phone on the nightstand beside the bed to type notes. It’s sometimes too early when I wake up and have thoughts roar through my head that I can’t be trusted to remember them by the time I get to the kitchen table with coffee, pen and paper. Once my brain has started the download I have to be ready to write down things that I pondered in my dreams or while simply lying awake at 4:30 a.m.
Anxiety usually favors the early hours to startle me awake physically and it usually gets me thinking about stuff I don’t care to think about, so writing helps. But it’s a chore and a joy and sometimes something wonderful comes out of it.
I clearly heard his alarm, but I tried to roll over and go back to sleep. Just maybe I could…. but no.
My thoughts were heading down hopeless paths of regret, guilt and sadness simultaneously so I wrote him a letter. It helped me and later he read it and I think he was good with it too.
I ask a lot from the people I love. Forgiveness, support, understanding, compassion, and on and on the list goes.
He gives it, unconditionally.
He loves me deeply and never out of pity or obligation.
He understands my pains and my messiness.
He understands my need for a lifting of the burdens from my shoulders.
He reaches into my space – invading whatever emotion I’m holding there – and loves me.
It’s not easy. I’m feeling unlovable quite often lately.
Some days I feel so distant and weak that I simply can’t lift my hand to reach out to him.
It comes in waves, regardless of my declaration that “today will be better.”
I convey to him that I need to hear …
“We can make it.” “I love you.” “I know you’re struggling.” “I know you’re trying.”
Lately I apologize as often as I tell him I love him and I rely on him to hold me together when it’s easier to fall apart.
We won’t give up.
That’s our LOVE song…we won’t give up.
I’m so thankful for this man that I met at age 15 – That was 32 years ago but it was like yesterday…
I heard a song the other day that said –
“When does a scar become a tattoo?”
“When does the sky turn back to blue?”
“When does this broken heart that I’m holding beat on it’s own?”
I imagine those scars are healing, whether I can see it happening or not.
And I know the sky is blue, even when the days are cloudy and grey.
And that broken heart?
Well, he holds me and loves me and his heart beats for two.