i have been aching for months that have turned to year to decades and on. my body has stopped throbbing mostly. but my mind, my heart continue to re-break. there are days when i feel like i just can’t take it any more and the world feels heavy and hard.
confusing and cruel and like a place i just don’t fit in to. yet i wonder why, i long to so deeply.
it’s likely because i’ve been making a way to for so long that i don’t understand it all too much any other way. living fitting in.
the sky is blue and the sun is shining and everyone else strolls the streets appearing to be happy and whole. but me, i still feel broken.
some days the sun never comes to surface. the speaker hums the strums of a song sung from the lungs of a lover. some who’ve lost it, love. another ones, love has been found. tiny smoke clouds softly billow from the pile of dried sage leaves that are collected in a silver tin atop my dresser underneath a window looking out into the yard. and often, on these days, i feel most at home. my mask can come off here - in this place, at this time. and i all too often on these days, in this place, don’t have to pretend that i’m another version of human that i no longer understand. my head feels clearest, my heart, swollen. somehow, on these grey days, i feel happiest, wholest, the closest to self that i’ve ever been.
i look into a mirror and see a woman staring back at me who is brave. although tears are filling her eyes, or streaming from her face, i see a human who is strong.
more years ago than my brain can remember, i ran, so far away. from a place that i was told would always be my home. i didn’t want it to be there. home. to unpack my bags and settle into a life with white picket fences and cookie cutter houses made of red brick and sandstone. i didn’t believe the things they told me were truths. i didn’t want to know that the end of life would begin when I settled down.
this life i couldn’t take. one with routines and sports games on sunday afternoons. backyard bbqs to celebrate birthdays of the tiny humans that replicated people I’ve know my whole life. chuckling at internet memes over slabs of charred meat and cans of american beers.
i longed for more.
somehow, there was satisfaction in the searching. sensations in the newness of people and places and unknown things. richness in flavors of drinks and dishes. boldness in the brushstrokes and molding of strange forms into art. there was a contentness in culture more robust than my own.
my ears longed to hear stories of sad souls who somehow find hope in the simplicities of life dispute the wounds their untold tales have left behind. my eyes strained to stare upon the faces of the happy humans who chase joy as if it’s the only thing to live for. as if pain is something they’ve never known.
still, i long for more.
to have conversations about dreams so deep that they blur the lines of reality. friendships so connected, entangled, that in a moment of flightiness, in the second that i might just float away, they tie me down and hold me close to the ground so i could somehow know that this was home.
continually, i long for more.
to love so grandly that i can’t determine the difference between myself and the earth below my feet. to be loved so deeply that i could swim to the bottom of the pacific ocean and burrow my entire being in the sand that coats the lowers part of the sea floor and still, this love would run deeper.
and no matter how i transition, i long for more.
for the days that run short because the sun is tired of lighting up the sky for the ungrateful animals to roam the land below. that the night's are long, so long that you pray for the mornings sun. for the sweet smell of pine needles and damp earthy scent of the wet forest floor. for the swishing and slashing and crashing of pounds of water against the rocky cliffs that line the western shores. for the caress of a gentle breeze as it swipes my cheeks in passing, encouraging wisps of hair to follow along. for the bitter, salty tango that fine wine leads when paired with cheese.
this is the longing. for more.
eventually, here we are. where life has come to a stillness that has allowed my head to catch up with my heart. my mind only moves to a beat that vibrates up from my chest below. thoughts form in clouds that are exhaled from both my right and left lung. memories sprinkled about like the drops of blood stains that old woulds have left behind. dreams, flowing like the rivers of liquid running warmly throughout my veins. words intertwining to form patterns of emotions mirroring veins that sit closely beneath the top layer of my skin.
here, in this longing. i find home.
it's a place that has always been. a space that many will never find comfort in. and those who do still squirm with discontent. but the longing outweighs the conformity to a life lived with ease. a life lived with routines and predictability. there is a tugging at the heart so strong that even when the brain resists, it's not strong enough to resist the pull. and when it fights, it's drug through the trenches, but still forced to come out on the other side.
so where the longing sits. i sit too.
when i am too stubborn to slow my heart beat and focus my mind. it will run wildly, untamed. and once it burns through all the fuel that makes it uneasy, to the stillness of the longing is where it returns to, over and over again, cycling motion and stillness, longing and loving, forever chasing that burning from deep inside for the remainder of it's days.