Sit Still

And pause.

Sit still, smell the grass, watch the boys gambol about on the fresh sod that was laid over the hillocks of Dolores Park.

The park had a grand re-opening today and it was one of the many stops on my day today.

A very busy day.

A very busy day on two hours of sleep.

I was up until 5:30 a.m. this morning.

That was not expected, but the talking.

There is so much to talk about.

Funny how with one person I have to stretch, to hunt and seek, and search for commonality or even a common language at times.

Then.

Other times, this time, last night, oodles and oodles and oodles of conversation, spools and spirals and tangents and at one point it was said, “wait, you still haven’t told me about the IRS fraud that you almost fell into.”

Side bar.

I saw another post, on Facebook, from a gal here in San Francisco who had the same experience yesterday, but she figured out the scam really fast.

Not I.

Of course, I figured it out when it was appropriate and I was grateful, ever so grateful to not having emptied my bank account, and for also realizing how I am affected by odd things at time and that yes, I can be naive and that ultimately, I am alright with this.

It means I am living a fuller life experience.

I am not jaded is what I am saying.

End side bar.

Sort of.

I re-read my blog from last night while I was sitting on the bench under the tree across from work this morning.

I was jazzed, the sky had broke out from behind the clouds and as I descended across Dolores at 17th the sun shone down on me and continued to pour light all over the Mission while the day unwound in its way, at its pace, despite my giddy girl ways.

Giddy does not last.

In case you were wondering.

Now I am calm.

Serene.

And just doing my thing.

I had many thoughts though when I first re-read what I had written.

Oh dear.

I revealed way too much.

I put it all the fuck out there.

Then I thought, nothing, “absolutely nothing happens in God’s universe for no reason.”

I can’t control myself, yes I can try, but sometimes the feels they just pour out and no one should be held to account when high on happy and pheromones.

Note to self, nice to see me being ok with this, there would have been a time, and not so long ago at that, when I would have been chagrined to have written what I wrote.

Oh girl, don’t put it all out there.

Save some for you.

But that’s me, putting it all out there, being a little larger than life, being me, and I know that I can confuse my own habits of self-denial, self-sabbotage, and self-doubt in a nice little package in this blog, when I am over exuberant and out there and well, over the top.

I have stopped disliking that about myself.

In fact, I sort of find it endearing now.

“You are in fact, hard to miss,” the woman at the park said to me, then asked for the time as I pushed one of the boys in the swing.

She was responding to my friend approaching me in the children’s sand area at Mission Pool and Playground and how he said, “I forget that, when I was looking at all the people here, you’re not hard to miss.”

My hair was very, very, very pink that day.

The pink is fast fading and I am feeling the desire to pull a hair geographic as I sit with my feelings and let them sort themselves and settle into their places.

In case you were wondering, there’s nothing wrong, I am just openly processing some stuff about me, this blog is all about me, there is no special secret there, oh there’s plenty that doesn’t go here, and part of the getting up as early as I did was to stick to my routine and do my morning writing.

I really needed to do my morning writing.

It’s my get right with God time.

So too, my morning routine and I knew that even if I had been tempted to get in another hour of sleep that I would do better in my day if I got up when I normally do, and do the things that are a part of my routine.

It did ground me.

I was a bit intoxicated this morning with feeling and lack of sleep and probably some adrenalin and all the things that surge through the body when experiencing intense emotional connection with someone.

I sat still through it, wrote it out, then zoomed and zipped to work with a silly, happy grin on my face.

It lasted most of the day, once in a while I would feel myself drifting from the present, the gift of the moment, the gift of being in the sun with the boys, their arms draped over me, the voices clamoring for more rolling down the hill at Dolores Park or another strawberry, raspberry, blackberry, peach, from the Farmer’s Market at Bartlet and 22nd.

I would return to the moment, as I just did, right here, right now, sipping hot tea and reminding myself that it is here, in this pocket of self-care and self-examination that I live, that this ultimately, this is my experience and I get to show up for this man and whatever happens, moving forward, that I have again, learned some incredible things about myself.

How very important conversation is to me.

How much I can connect with a person when I am present and allow myself to be seen and how much I can smile and laugh and let loose when I am with someone who I like.

I reminded me quite a bit of all that was lacking in my last relationship and how hard it was to talk, even from the very beginning and how the entire relationship, in my opinion, with my experience, became a battle ground of silent scorn and inability of connecting and communicating.

Having had the communication and the vulnerability of last night, and knowing now that I crave it, I saw in very stark contrast to what I had before missed in my last relationship.

I cannot even express all the gratitude I have for the harrowing two months of self-silencing I went through.

I learned so much.

It hit me while I was riding my bicycle up Lincoln to work. And I thank God out loud as I rode for the experience as it helped bring me to where I am now.

Being able to see that is an enormous gift and even with sleepy perceptions and that just slightly off slant perspective that a day run mostly on adrenalin can give you, I am utterly aware of the difference.

And I want the former, vulnerability, honesty, open communication, deep knowledge of self, and authenticity of person, rather than the later dissolving of my person into a silent blank slate to paint a fantasy on.

I am larger than life.

I am over the top.

But I am a real person.

And being as deeply seen as I have allowed myself to be over the last week has been such a refreshing thing for me.

Just like, I am sure, a deep and full, restful nights sleep will be for me as well.

And knowing that I am going to LA next weekend.

Meep.

Oh.

Did I forget to mention that?

Oops.

Not making any attempt to wipe the smile off my rather sleepy, but very happy face.

And with that.

I am out.

Night all.

Tags: communication, conversation, dating, dolores park, emotions, gratitude, IRS Scam, Mission District, morning routine, recovery, San Francisco, self-care, sleep, spiritual practice, vulnerability, writing