Spilling over ...

Every once in awhile my holding damn breaks and I weep. My chest does that thing it does to hold my heart, and I weep. Like a mess with mascara tracks down my cheeks and my arms wrapped around my core ... I weep.
I feel the privilege of my job in my bones, in my soul ... but every ounce of pain and suffering that we digest has to come out.
We are amazing. Our mind and bodies ability to release through little drops of us rolling out of our eyes. I don't know how I could continue my job if I lost the ability to cry.

Deep breath ...

Something has started to clear. A space in my head to see past my bubble. I noticed a lady walking down Beverley street on my way to watch swans dance who had high heels of different heights. My heart ached thinking of the kind of place two feet would have to be in to journey out into the world so unbalanced.
I never stopped noticing things like this but something had shifted inside me that stopped me from taking an image inside, touching it, feeling it, trying it on.
It was connected to being in a relationship but I don't really understand why yet.
Or maybe Queen Tree is right and we are only drawn to our blogging world when things are not going the way we would like.
I thought that it was because I had found Patrick as a witness and I did not need this space in the same way. And maybe it was that simple.
And maybe I was tempted back because I find myself without a witness again.
I do know that it felt different for that moment.
We will see if this will be another blog that stands alone for a year ... or one followed by many more.

Professional imposter/spacebrain

To add to my already fragile sense of self today. This is me doing laundry:
1. Take the laundry down, down, around to the back and down the stairs
2. Come back up, around to the front and up for the detergent I forgot
3. Down, down, around to the back and down the stairs to realize that Idol had distracted me into thinking that I went up to get change (change that I already had in my pocket)
4. Back up, around to the front and up for the detergent I forgot again
5. Down, down, around to the back and down the stairs to find that this machine only takes quarters and I nicely collected a loonie and two quarters
6. Back up, around to the front and up for proper change
7. Down, down, around to the back and down the stairs to insert change and start washer
8. Back up, around to the front and up to wait a half an hour so that I could go down, down, around to the back and down the stairs to put the clothes in the dryer

Ridiculous.

And let me just say writing a Bio that is to nest between any two of my colleagues. Not so fun. I made mine funny.

Fluid souls...

http://science.nationalgeographic.com/science/enlarge/inside-heart.html

Patrick went away last minute for the weekend because of a funeral. I did not have any feelings of not being ok with this when he told me and actually thought that it would be good for us. I really believe it is so healthy to have chunks of time apart.
Here is the thing ... if i know he is going away I make extra plans. And since I didn't know, I ended up with a more or less empty weekend. I woke up this morning and found that I did not know what to do. This of course led to some pretty unfair self-talk, questioning how I had let myself get to this place. It was an amazingly sunny and beautiful day ... I knew that I should be outside but for some reason I felt like there was nothing to do because I was by myself. I watched TV on my computer, plucked my eyebrows, curled up and had a nap. All the while feeling so utterly disappointed in myself that I was not visiting art galleries or meeting friends for coffee. I did not really see what was going on inside of my heart until later in the evening. I just knew that I felt disappointed and embarrassed ... and gross. It is not that I can not stand to be apart from Patick, that was not what I was feeling.
I finally made myself get dressed and without much of a plan I pushed my self outside and started walking down Spadina. The moment that the sun kissed my face and the fresh air filled my lungs the anxiety that I was feeling started to ease. I went into an art store and started to feel my creativity sizzle a little and the desire to create again. I came to a dead end that was the entrance to Eaton Centre and instead of going inside and looking at shops I walked right through and out the other side so I could keep walking.
It was a good three hours later as I was walking home shoving chunks of the best bread in the world which I first discovered back in the summer and have been scouring for ever since that I started to figure it out a little. When we spend so much time with other people our soul adapts to never being alone. I had forgotten how to be by myself. The more I thought about it the more I realized that I am rarely by myself for more than a couple of hours, if that. In Calgary, when I was living on my own my soul had to learn to companion itself, to enjoy the dialogue inside my head, to be ok with just being.
It was a sad realization ... I remember how very sweet it was the first time I realized that I really liked my own company. And how does it change the way we see ourselves when the opinions of us that we listen to are always from the outside ... when we stop having the time to adore and love from the inside. I mean for sure sometimes the harshest judgments come from our own minds ... but could it also be true in a balancy sort of way, that the greatest compliments and love also come from inside?
I am just amazed at how quickly I forgot ... but thankful for how quickly I remembered.

Not sure anymore

What am I scared of?
I am scared of something. My heart is unsettled and my mind is distracting itself from a truth that it will not let come to the surface of my ice-berg.
I am not laughing or feeling the peace that I bled for.
Do you think that is innately harder to stay true to your heart when you are in a relationship. Do you think that when you must consider the path of another heart that yours is forced to sacrifice ... to be different?
I have wanted to blog but maybe I am scared to put some things down here.
I took Patrick to Niagara for his birthday. The front-desk called him my husband ... and I thought to myself "He is not my husband. I have a husband but he is not this man." How does that happen. What do I do with that?
How do I know if I am sabotaging or if this relationship is not all that I need it to be. It feels like Patrick will be in my life for a very long time but at the same time I question why the words that shower my heart from his mouth do not come from mine.
Why is it hard for me to let him know my deep heart. I love sharing my heart's view of others with them. I love telling them about why I think that they are incredible ... I can't do this with Patrick. I have tried. Why can't I? Is it him? Is it me? Is it us?
How will I ever convince my heart to let someone truly in who has the potential to do what Mike did to me?
I told my co-workers/friends that I don't ever want to love someone so much again that life would seem unbearable enough without them that I would want to die. I thought that never loving another man the way that I loved Mike would be a good thing for my heart. A healthy and protective thing ... am not sure anymore.
Life was truly easier when I was single.