Just a disclaimer — this new series will be the most vulnerable yet. These pieces below, these pieces to come, are slivers of my heart, originally scrawled on now water-stained, wrinkled, and torn pages of my journals. They’re copied verbatim, errors and all. Names will be removed, but the rawness remains.
I have volumes and volumes of these tattered notebooks in a basket next to my bed. I never thought I would ever reopen these pages of gibberish, musings, and the deepest desires, hurts, and joys of my heart. I contemplated destroying the stack because didn’t these very pages serve their purpose already?
But I did.
Every now and then I open to a random page and read, whether just a line or a page or several days of words, and I see something new. I see my growth. I see my thought patterns, my desires, I see how they shift and change. I relish in joyful memories like warm blankets by the fire. I cry for past me, for the aches and the disappointment.
Most of all, I see my healing. I see how much stronger, how much more able I am than a few years, months, heck even days ago! I see the lines of my faith knitted through the peaks and the valleys of my life, stringing me along and holding me together. So here it goes, slices of my very human heart, served for you in hopes something will resonate and we all realize we’re a whole lot less alone in this big world. Whew. Here we go.
Lessons in Heartbreak: The Shatter
I won’t let myself wallow in an ocean of you — this is my island, too. My waves, my sand, my deep hiding places when the world gets too tough. But even sliding under the surface without you next to me might do me in — if only for now.
Lord only knows where I’ll go from here. I have to remember — my life and my joy are more than the minutes spent trying to hurry to you, whoever you, My You, are, wherever you are, whatever you do — are you looking for me to? Do I know you yet, have we crossed paths and where will we meet?
So here we sit, XXXX and I, half covered in sand and the quickly setting sun, the North Shore, the place that reminds me of why I moved here, this sense of removal, vacation. Here we sit with some vinegar on our hearts awaiting the day we won’t ache as bad when we hear their name or pass their exit or listen to a song.
The waves are tall and majestic and the spray coming off the top reminds me that maybe magic does exist.
I’m learning time —
it’s less relevant than we thought.
The heart doesn’t love
according to minutes or seconds
clock hands ticking
counting out the appropriate number of days I’m allowed
It mattered in the end,
Time did, to you.
You reduced us to logic, rules,
Though you believed they didn’t apply when we began.
You loved me.
You let me go.
And now I
W A I T.
Quiet meets quiet.
My grounding heart,
learning to be alone
OK with where I am at.
I met myself at the bar today.
I drove two hours in the car today,
Free from the tears
you left me to cry.
She asked me what I wrote about
in my paper prayers.
I said it’s my heart.
I’m a mess, but bless this mess.
My heart is no more of a mess
We can’t let falling into others
lead us to fall away from
The sass, the spice —
Was I even fully alive
when I was with you?
or just holding space for you to be bigger.
It’s a funny thing
to look back and see how quiet
my Me was.
Yet if you asked me back,
would I go still?
Even a flash in the pan
can still start