Put Grace In Your Heart

by

And flowers in your hair.

Sweet, maudlin me.  Climbing out from under the muck of another self-imposed beating.  I will apparently go to just any lengths to not have feelings.  Please direct me to the door and please help me stop beating my god damn head on it.

Walk towards the open door, Martines.  Walk towards the open door.

John Ater once told me that I would keep repeating the same behaviour.  I watched myself repeat that behaviour all day today and it does not feel good.  I would like to let go of this.  I would like to not be sitting in my house, alone with my cats, sad because the boy left without a kiss.

Hey lady, he told you upfront, he was in no place for a relationship.  And that is the lesson that you have been learning and relearning for so long.  Can we just say that you have learned it.

And we can just say, it was really sad today to send that letter to your mom.  And it’s alright to grieve.  It’s ok to feel that loss.  And it’s alright to be up past your bedtime on a school night crying.  Just let go of the grief.  Let your mom go.  She can’t fix you. Never could.

And you can run away from your feelings, but at the end of the day, just like they were there at the end of the night at the end of the bar in the dark with a pint of Bitter, so apropos, and a cigarette, sitting gin the dark letting the music swirl around you and waiting for Brian, fill in last name, there were more than one, to come out from the kitchen and taking out the trash and dumping the recycling.  Stop waiting for the man to rescue you.

Stop waiting for Henry Hall or The Brian’s or the Thomas’s to take you out of your head.  Stop focusing on someone else long enough to be ok focusing on you.

There is no shame in who you are.  There is no damaged goods here.  You don’t have to make-believe to be something other than who you are.

You may no longer hold onto words and excuses that fell out of the mouths of people who are sick.  They are sick, you don’t have to stand underneath the shower of illness.  Just put down the umbrella, take off the rain boots, take off the slicker, be yourself, naked, vulnerable, not knowing what good you have in you and walk out the door.

Walk toward the light, Carol Anne.

And then walk through it.  Maybe three decades of not letting yourself show scared and afraid it all was, maybe three decades of holding onto that weight, maybe, it’s time to say good-bye to it.  Not everyone will hurt you.  You don’t have to stand for unrequited love, even if he helped you move a sofa and run your lines.  You don’t have to be pursuant of the safe and the known.

Your lines are fine.  Your sofa is fine.  Your heart is fine.  You are fine.

Sad is ok.  Just don’t wallow in it and don’t bury it.  The plant that blooms is too sickly sweet, it is not the soft beard of grass on your soul, it ends up being a pit of pestilence that does not dissipate.  Take the ashes from your mouth and scatter them across the lye.

Perhaps I too will come into a state of grace and let myself be just this person, neither more wonderful nor less than you.  Maybe I will let myself pull up the stakes to the hot air balloon and let it all go.  I say to the universe, thank you for this experience, I trust that I will be ok having had it and I don’t need to keep repeating the pattern.

Today, just for this moment.  I am going to sit still. Sit with the pain and the ache.  And just feel it.

Just feel it.

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