Update: A Beacon

Though in no way verbose or sentimental in any way, I received that which I wanted most for Christmas - finally, after 2 1/2 months, a message from my island. My beacon in the storm.

And it is enough. For now.

Lighthouse

I wonder how the ship captains of yesteryear felt as they first saw the emanating light in the darkest and stormiest of nights. Was it really the beacon in the storm that we have always heard about in the storybooks, saving the lives of sailors from a sure death on the treacherous rocks below?

That's how I felt about my Caribbean boyfriend. When everything was upside down, he was my right side up. When the world was rapidly spinning off its axis, he was my front and center. When the turbulent sea proved too much, he was my lighthouse. An always calming presence in the storms of life.

Today is Christmas, and I am longing for my lighthouse. The Christmas season has always been one of my favorite times of year, but the older I get, the more alone I feel and much less celebratory. I am blessed to spend the holiday with my truly wonderful family, but it's difficult not to dwell on that which I miss the most, someone to hold, someone to care, someone to love. But most of all, someone to shine the way.

In the Midst of Tragedy

Most people my age have begun saying how "old" they feel, which is ironic to me because most of the time I feel no different than when I was 15. I feel the same, I love the same, I hurt the same, I even dance the same (ok, maybe better because now I know what passion really is). The biggest exception is that my hope and faith in humankind and a better tomorrow is not the same, and I would give almost anything to have that back.

In the wake of yet another national tragedy, I am once again overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness and desolation. Everyone around me is embracing loved ones, spending more quality time with their families, and providing comfort as needed. And I am at home...alone....again...with no one to hold and no one to hold me.

Yet, after a day of tremendous heartache and grief, there was a ray of light, a sliver of hope, for the dancer is still prancing around my life and held me until dawn broke...into a better tomorrow.

Update: Drowning

I briefly mentioned in a recent post that I planned to text my Caribbean boyfriend - I guess I shouldn't call him that anymore, should I? - on his birthday. Well, I did, and as I predicted, I received no response. I believe that if I were to ever hear from him again that it would have happened then...

And I am drowning. Sometimes I literally wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air because I cannot find him. He fills every morsel of my being, even when I am unaware, and his absence leaves me breathless and shaken. In his wake, I am a sea of despair, battered and lost.

And when people ask if I am ok, I just want to shout as loud as I can that NO, I am NOT ok. How do you find your way when your soul is gone, and you can't will yourself to accept the reality that you're never getting it back? I don't know how to function without hope. I have always had hope, even when it was futile at best, yet it has left me alone as well.

Everyone and everything else was just filler because I knew I could never have him, yet he was mine. He was my everything. When I met him, I finally felt at home, and I was on a Caribbean island for goodness sake! But he's gone, and I have lost him forever. And the sea is tossing and turning and I don't know which way is up...sometimes I'm not even sure that I care.

"Have you ever met someone and when they walked away you could breathe again? Have you ever thought about someone, even though it has been months since you have seen them? Have you ever felt as if someone flowed with your heart that when you do see them again you melt all over again? But now he is gone. Still with my heart in his hand, and thoughts of him flowing through my body."

Update: Revelations

And in keeping with tradition, the dancer is not looking for a ltr. Yes, I had to pull out my urban dictionary for that one....long-term relationship. The End.

Sabotage

I've recently had a few discussions with some friends on the topic of self-sabotage, particularly in regard to relationships. Although in different ways, I feel that they are insinuating the same idea - that I may be sabotaging my own relationships. Perhaps arrogantly, but I just don't think so. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're probably agreeing with them; however, when I look back on all the relationships that didn't work out - irrelevant of the reason they ended - I'm glad that they did. Now, of course, that realization came much later, but nonetheless, it is true. I believe in my heart and in my soul that none of those men were indeed the best choice, the right choice, for me.

It's always difficult, virtually impossible, to look objectively at your own situations, your own problems, your own issues. A long time ago, I had a boyfriend who used to call it being "in the bubble." You aren't able to effectively assess anything inside the bubble. So, what exactly is it in me that is sabotaging the ability to have a healthy, normal intimate relationship with a man? If it's simply being me from the very beginning, then so be it. Who wants a semi-version of me? Maybe a lot of people. But that's not what I want. I want someone I can trust my secrets with and someone who can share their deepest secrets with me. Someone who loves the bad parts as much as the good parts, and why should those come out later when they all come together to complete ME? If I'm "too much" now, how am I not going to be "too much" later on? Really.

Adventure #25: Funeral Mass

Over a year ago, I posted a blog about attending a wedding alone and how overwhelming that can be for me. Unfortunately, this past weekend I attended a funeral for the dad of a good friend of mine who passed unexpectedly. I attended alone, and that was something that quite frankly I should not have done. It was heart-wrenching to listen to his friends and family express their sadness, their grief, and all I could think is that I wanted someone's hand to hold during all of that. I wanted someone to acknowledge that my tears were ok, someone to tell me it was ok to mourn, even if he wasn't my father, but because he's someone's father. And, well, I've been there. And I just wanted someone to be there with me.

I know that funerals are, by design, a chance to say goodbye, an opportunity to celebrate the life of the one who has passed. But I think it may be more than I am prepared to handle...alone anyway.

Sometimes I Feel...

Sometimes I feel so fragile, so incredibly delicate. I hate the vulnerability, the stark subjection to possible hurt and disappointment. I much prefer my powerful independence, my strong-willed nature, my assertiveness. But we are...are all fragile human beings that is.

Sometimes I feel so inconsequential, so insignificant. I hate the idea of having no stable place in this world, no clear purpose, no evident agenda. I much prefer my definitive roles, my purposeful intent, my  transparent direction. But we are...are all miniscule pieces of a very large whole.

Sometimes I feel so empty, so infinitely hollow. I hate the creeping sadness, the enveloping veil of darkness. I much prefer the feeling of completion, of radiant happiness, of life without end. But we are...are all made to live and all made to die.

But all I can do is wait...wait and see what tomorrow brings. I have put everything I know, everything I have out there...and the rest is no longer in my control, a quite unwanted place I find myself all too frequently. Yet, wait is what I must do...until he chooses.