Sleeping

When I think back on this time, I think I will recall that for so very much of it
     ... I was asleep.
Perhaps that is how it is with pain: hibernation.
A chrysalis of sorts forms around us while we heal.
Or change.
Or both.
That is not shameful. It is not weak. It is necessary.

But I'm preparing to tear away the barriers of that sleep now.
I want to wake.
I've passed through a door.
I've marked a single, charcoal line upon the ground and contemplated crossing it.
I ready to burst through.
Yes. I'm ready.

...

Now, reader here is a preface: I don't often share on this blog in this candid a manner, but I feel the need.I know that many of you visit and know me not at all. You have shared the work, you have associated with "Act 3 Al." I have never attempted to use this blog in any manner of emotional ventilation, I have put forth every effort to protect and respect those with whom I share my life, many of whom already have very public lives as it is. This is not a tabloid. And venting is what a journal is for. The details are unimportant, the revelations are.

That is what this is: a revelation. I would be denying the journey if I did not mark it. This is too magnificent to keep to myself. And I am done hiding my light under a bushel.

There are several things I can say out loud.
So much I can face I didn't know or couldn't see before.
I looked in the mirror and I saw the Self of a young woman terribly disrespected and my insides churned.


Things like:
- I didn't have any respect for my Self.
     I never really did. (Self respect is like a muscle, if you do not exercise it, it atrophies).
- And that led to a monsoon of other unhealthy behaviors. That's over now.
     Standing up for yourself is allowed. It is, in fact, tremendous.
     No more dressing to hide,
     No more allowing away.
     No more.
     No more capitulation.
     No more valuing everyone else above myself until that Self is a shell.
     No more apologizing for being.
     No more.
     No one will walk on me. Intimidate. Bully. Strip away. Burgle.
     No one will rob me of my trust.
     Or of hope.
     The professional arm was strong while the personal arm withered.
     No more.

- Sometimes.. in fact... often, change is good. Change is great. I can embrace change. I can bear hug it and lick every last fleck of change sauce from the plate of life. (Mmmmm change tastes like parma rosa sauce).

- I am shocked by the force of a decade-and -a-half of built-up rage. Absolutely astonished. I must possess some sort of rage storage helix inside me...

- This is the end of the Dad cycle. (Well, what do you know?)

- I don't need a home, home is right here [touches her heart]

- That thing I hoped would end with high school... college... real life.. is never over. It is all the same. It never ends. Stop waiting. And this knowledge sets one free. Hooray. Adjust.

- and perhaps, most importantly of all...

... She broke my heart.
     She did.
     It cracked in half. 
     I loved her.
     I loved her more than anything.
     And that is what still smarts.
     And probably always will.

I am certain I can adjust to that too.


Take part in life Dear reader.  Do not shirk away from the world, take part in it. Do away with good enoughs and happy enoughs and fines. I am no longer ashamed to say I wish for more. No. I demand more. Of my Self. Of this finite, beautiful time. It is too brief and too special to be wasted on the parasitic, to be squandered on despair.

So here we go...
             ...the charcoal line...

____________________________________________


              ... Good morning.