Today was a hard day for me. Last night I dreamt of my mother. She kept coming to me in my dreams and telling me,
“Wake up. You need to cry.”
I’m pretty sure I argued I with her, not because I remember arguing, but because she was hugging me. Whenever she hugs me in my dreams I want to stay.
Sidenote- as I write that, I get goosebumps and begin to cry. I deleted three other drafts of this blog before this one. If you aren’t a believer, it’s not because it isn’t real, it’s because you don’t believe it is. Where was I? Oh yes. My mothers hug.
I know that one time I did in fact wake up. I took in three breaths, like the kind you take after a good sob, which means I was probably crying in the dream and it was about to spill over into my waking moment. The breaths were merely an attempt to be ready before I went under. I didn’t cry though. I went back to sleep. Again, she came to me.
“Wake up. You need to cry. Water seeks its own level.”
I never did cry, but I kept saying that last part over and over again, falling in and out of sleep. I don’t know when she left me last night, but her words never did. I read Susan Elliotts book, Getting Past Your Breakup pretty damn often these days. It helps keep me focused- not as in it never happened, but as in it did happen and damn it, this time it’s not in vain. In her book she says that phrase about the water. It stuck with me. It swims around in my head all the time; when I’m in the presence of anyone, or alone and wishing I wasn’t. Secretly running a list of possible people who can keep me from being alone in my head…I think of it when I’m with someone who is driving me crazy- testing every patience fiber in my being. I’ll ask myself, if water seeks its own level, what are you doing with this person? Is it high tide? Are you drowning? Are you treading water, saving them, or waiting for them to save you? Maybe you should just head for shore, get a towel and think about this for a bit. When I’m alone and the Queen gets loose it’s worse. I start thinking of the lamest reasons I can to talk to my ex- how lame? Let me help you out with an example.
Today I was “learning to live simply” and “removing all past, negative and draining energy” from my life. This somehow involved moving a bookshelf over eight inches to the left. OK, it was more like six inches, but eight makes what I did seem justifiable. The shelf was laden with books, though I had removed at least one full shelf of them into the new pallet bed I constructed on Saturday. Often when I’m moving furniture, I’m alone. I don’t know why that happens, but it does. I’ve developed this way of moving really heavy stuff by myself, using my entire body and a wall or other heavy object to brace against. So, envision if you will, me sitting/laying on the floor, back against one bookshelf, feet against the other and ready to push with my back, the distance of the required ten inches. (Yes, ten.) I’ve done this a hundred times- I’m a pro.
Have you ever bought those $19.95 bookshelves from Walmart? You can get them in wood, black and white. You screw them together without any power tools and that should really be the first clue that once laden down with anything, they are not going to hold. You actually nail the back cardboard onto the unit and THAT’S what keeps it upright. Not kidding. You get rid of the cardboard and that entire unit will fall in on itself, directly in half, right or left. Never forward. I told you. I’m a pro. So, there I was, laying in between TWO of them, BOTH of them heaped with books and other antique glass, heavy tins of rocks and things on the top shelf, laying down in my professional moving stance and ready to push-
So I crouched low, put my shoulders about four inches from the floor so that I could just slide the bottom over that tiny little twelve-inch distance and…
as if you don’t know what happens here…
the cardboard gave, causing the entire unit, books, glass, tins and all, to fall. Which direction? Funny you should ask. It fell the opposite of the direction it was being pushed, leaving it and all of its contents to fall directly and slowly, onto me. Books, shelves, all of it. I laid there while things just seemed to keep dropping from the ceiling and waited for it to stop. I pushed everything off of the top of me, looked at my arm and there was a screw in it. I pulled it out and waited for it to bleed. I knew it would be a minute because it had gone deep enough for me to see the layers in my skin where the ink in my tattoo ended. I just sat there. I waited. At last it bled. And then I cried. As I’m crying, I see an arrow-head on the floor that had fallen out of one of the tins and you know what I think?
I should send that to Chris, he always wanted an arrowhead.
Seriously. In the middle of the rubble, bleeding arm, that’s what I’m thinking. Becuase I’m alone damn it. I’m alone, moving a bookshelf alone, in a house I now support alone, and I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone so badly that I would rather go back to feeling alone with someone than actually being alone. If water were seeking its own level at that moment, then trust me- I was drowning!! I put the arrow-head in his bible, in my “go to work box” so that I can UPS it tomorrow…Can you hear me thrashing in the water?!
I told you. THE LAMEST REASONS POSSIBLE!
The Queen helped me out a bit.
“We aren’t giving him the arrowhead. Just mail the bible. No note. No marked verse using the arrowhead as a bookmark either.” (Crap, how did she know I was thinking of doing that?)
I had this moment of confusion when I suddenly couldn’t distinguish who was who in this little mess and then I heard this idea;
“You’ve been wondering for days if Justin is single…just text him and ask.”
AHA! It IS her! And then the Universe bailed me out. My phone notified me of a comment made on one of my blogs…and I read it. Ditch the story. Someone thanking me.
So I thanked them and I ditched the ridiculous story, again. Then I cried some more. I cried all day. I cried over all of the crap I had that wasn’t even my crap. I cried over funeral notices for people I’ve never known. I cried for love lost and parents mourned. I cried because my house looked so wonderful without that damn bookshelf in it. I cried because my foundation is crumbling and my time here in this little house that I’ve always felt were home, are numbered. I cried because life is calling me and damn it- I’ve got to answer. I cried because the Universe had seen fit today to shove me twelve inches to the left and again put me back in place on this journey. Eventually the tears stopped. I don’t remember when.
If water seeks its own level than we would be wise to watch where we swim. I have a friend that I love oh so much, but they seem happy only when they are miserable. They actively seek drama, partake in some of the most self abusive behavior and illicit relationships that are obviously inappropriate. Yet, if you say anything at all- If you point anything out or question anything, Hell will break loose. Where’s the water then? I’ll tell you-
When you shift, when you begin to clean up the beach of your life, when your tide begins to rise, the water is level. When I’m with my friend lately, the water sloshes back and forth between us and spills over in the form of a hot temper. I’m at high tide. They are at low. Life is like that sometimes. You can’t stay, no matter what kind of relationship it is. If you aren’t where they are, you can’t stay there without running dry. That’s why it’s such an energy drain on you. You’re up here, they aren’t. Trying to sink to a lower level will drain you just as much as trying to drag them up to yours. Have some compassion and walk away because it’s just as hard on them.
When I start grasping “out there” because I’m alone, it just results in a tsunami. I isolate and feel bone dry, or I overspend and over reach, only to be left feeling like I’m drowning. The waters churn and I’m treading them alone- just as alone as I was when I started this mess…Sitting here tonight, in my newly organized and so much more me house, I’m thankful for the mess and all of the alone time that I had this weekend. I’m thankful that all of my girls are home. Thankful that I have a home for us to be in. I’m thankful for this blog where I can bumble along to anyone and no one, but somehow always someone, so that I feel as if alone is a choice. I’m thankful for that little nudge in my gut that says that last sentence isn’t quite what I mean…and the faith that says, it’s ok- we’ll figure it out. I’m thankful for the few that find me here, read me here, like me here. I’m thankful for the life rafts of high tide and the rain of tears when the drought is taking its toll on this girl.