He was My Soul-Mate

He was my soul-mate. Not the romantic kind, but soul-mate just the same. We met at work, and I loved him instantly. It was almost as if I had known him for decades – and not only a few seconds. I remember the day clearly. I was wrestling around the office with my coworker when we met. He was sitting at the computer – his back to us, trying not to stare at our ridiculousness. One loud “Hi-Ya!!” threw us both onto the floor and he finally turned around, looked at the hilarity of the situation and laughed. I invited him out for a beer, and that was the end of it. We were inseparable from that moment forward, our lives forever entangled. It was like he was supposed to be in my life all along, and I had a hard time remembering that there were 22 years prior in which I existed without him. He was the place I felt safe. He was the happiest part of my day. We never dated, we never kissed, but it was love from the very beginning. He was my brother and my best friend – my protector and my cheerleader. We laughed together and we cried together. We fought like siblings. He could finish my sentences and I knew the punchlines to all his jokes just as well as he did.

Many people have known me in my life, but so few have been able to see into my heart. The real parts of it. He understood the ugly and the broken. He accepted my faults and my crazy and loved me even more because of them. If I thought I could have saved him, I would have walked through hell and back for him. My heart hurts without him. I see his face in my dreams and hear his jokes in my head. I miss him with every ounce of my heart. Many people can talk to us when we are sad, but he could speak to my soul without words. He gave me a safe place to say all the ugly things I am thinking when I am upset. He let me act out on my feelings – good or bad, without judgement, always understanding why – even when I didn’t. I could tell him what he was feeling when he was afraid to say it out loud. He knew I was his safe place as well.

I didn’t care that he was broken. I didn’t care how ugly it got toward the end. I picked him up from the side of the road, the beach, the bar, the police station, the supermarket, and sidewalk benches. I answered every single phone call no matter where I was or how frustrated I was with him, because I was terrified that one day he would be in danger and I would miss the call and lose him. I would have picked it up for 100 more years to keep him safe. I would have picked him up every single time. I wanted to save him so badly, but he couldn’t stay. Just beyond my reach… The addiction took him to a place I couldn’t reach. It locked his mind in a state of unfamiliarity. He couldn’t recognize the difference between friends and enemies, or light-hearted fun and self destruction. The demons took over and claimed his life in the middle of the night. They took his body, but they freed his soul. I hope he found peace. I hope he can hear me and see me. I hope he knows how much I miss him, and how fiercely I loved him. I hope he knows that my world is a little less bright without him. He was my soul-mate, and no amount of time will ever take that from me.

Loss

I took a drive to the places I used to love yesterday. The streets, the exits, and even the shopping centers all reminded me of a life I used to love and a girl I used to be. I loved her the most. She was happy, and brave, and driven. She was beautiful and wild, but still focused and centered. She knew what she wanted in her life and who she wanted to have in it.

I remember waking up at 5am to run into the sunrise before work. I remember days off running the bridge and hiking up mountains to beautiful deserted beaches. I remember nights making pillow forts and cooking dinners together with a man who became my lover and my friend. I remember going to meet up with my best friend for a beer at the end of a long day of running and exploring and being greeted by his smiling face. I remember the bliss in my ignorance of the mortality of the people I loved. I thought my love was timeless. I thought my family was immortal. I thought my best friend would be beside me forever.

I found a strength inside myself that I didn’t know I had. Running served me well. Running Half marathons reminded me that I have an unbelievable strength inside me. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel like no matter what happened in my day, I had something that no one could touch. It was almost a religious experience. 3 miles to turn off the voices in my head. 5 miles to not feel my body. Anything further was the equivalent of nirvana. Being able to exist in nature and beauty without noise in one’s mind, not feeling the bonds of your human body has got to be a spiritual experience in its own right. And as I sit here, with an aching in my back, pain shooting down my right leg, I feel a grief inside me that can only be equivocated to the loss of a loved one. I have come to realize that the loss is me. I lost me.

In the months prior to this I have lost little pieces of myself. And big pieces of myself. My lover betrayed me. My best friend took his own life. My father was injured in an accident that could have taken his life. My job that used to give me such gratification became a place of emotional abuse and stress. The thing that was holding me together was my ability to push the limits of my body. Take that away and I am a shell of who I used to be.

I want to find happiness again. I want to love myself again. But right here in this moment I feel an overwhelming sense of despair. I feel a hopelessness. I feel stuck, and unable to get out of this rut. I want to run away without a trace, but I’m limited in my mobility. How can I run away when I can barely walk around the supermarket without pain? When I left my job I wanted to hike the John Muir Trail. All of that seems like a distant memory. Like a dream I once had and can barely remember.

I feel an overwhelming sense of grief for the loss of my best friend. I lost a piece of my soul with him. I feel an anguish for my relationship ending. I feel animosity, and anger. He didn’t mean to hurt me, but he did. I was a casualty in his story. I am a casualty in my story as well – never asking for enough for myself. Being ok with a half assed-relationship with my half-assed heart. One day this will all be a memory. Maybe I will be too.

Tired ramblings of an active mind

I feel a pain encompassing my chest. It keeps me up late and refuses to release my mind from the fury of its aftermath. I yearn for his attention. I am eager for his closeness. Yet he keeps me an arms length away. I don't know how else to describe this other than just a lack of happiness. I stand waiting for some grand gesture. I'm tired of trying. My heart hurts from his indifference. I feel my questions provoking his irritation. Yet I can't stop myself and I can't walk away. I have never been this person. I am always the one who keeps people an arms length away. I was always the one who shied away from affection and commitment. I never wanted that feeling. Something about him made me want it more than ever. I feel like a love sick junkie. Begging for a dose of the good stuff. I have never been this person... I want an all encompassing love. I want to be swept into the arms of someone who loves me and respects me, and finds me interesting and wonderful. I don't want to doubt myself and question my worth. I used to have value. I want to be looked at like I am the only girl in the world. I feel a bridge forming between us. My relationship has become a power struggle and then filled with indifference. I want a way out of this hole that I am falling into before its too late. And If he isn't the one who will pull me out of it, I suppose I can only ask that he does the polite thing and step away - turning the other direction so he doesn't get the chance to watch me brave it on my own. I've been on this road alone for so long. At least alone I know who I have to count on. I know not to expect much from anyone. Walking away should be the easy option. ... Yet here I stand.

What are we capable of?

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine the other night. We were taking about her father and the unspeakable things he had done to her mom at some point. My response to her was that it was scary to think about these people being capable of terrible things - and how the wives or husbands of murderers and abusers never saw it coming. I said how it's scary to think you might marry someone - not knowing what they are capable of that kind of violence. She responded that she believed from her experiences that humans are all capable of everything given the right conditions. She believes that you or I could kill if we are put under the right conditions. I was shocked. I thought to myself "I'm not capable of that! Never!" Then I got to thinking about this and realizing that to a point she was right and I too had felt that way... It lead to me taking an unwanted visit to my past... Recently, I was talking to another friend of mine about not wanting kids and how I had never wanted them. She was asking me why I felt that way. I gave the answer "Because I have never wanted them". This was true... But I then had a flashback to the original moment these feelings became real. My life as a child was very different. My house was violent and dark. I remember feeling terrible and hiding in the closet trying to stay unnoticed. I remember blood, and bruises and screaming. I remembered the day I decided I wanted to take my own life... And It all came together. I am a rational, lucid, and reasonable person. I have a good heart and a world of happiness and positivity, but when put under the right conditions I wanted to take my own life. I remembered thinking that and looking at different family members who show evidence of mental illness and instability. I have watched these people break and do unspeakable things. My own grandfather took his life when my mother was just a baby. My mother and my sister both show signs of potential violence. Who is to say then that I don't have the same capability. I remembered this thought. I remember the moment of desperation when I decided that if there was even a speck of that inside of me I would do the world a favor and not have children. I couldn't live with myself if I ever inflicted that kind of pain on a child. I'm terrified of what kind of mistakes I could make if another life was entrusted to me. Could this break me too? I think I would rather not find out...

Heartache

I asked the universe for a lover - for someone who could speak to my heart. I thought it answered my call. Then why does my heart still hurt... Your words kill me every day... the ones you refuse to say, the affection you refuse to give, and the trap I feel I've fallen into. I want a man who puts his arms around me when he greets me. I want him to want me - to show desire, and caring. I want him to want to share himself with me. I'm tired of being the last one to know. I'm tired of feeling unimportant. I know he cares but he can't show it. I need more... I won't let this break me down. I have been through too much to compromise myself again.

I just found this post in Saved drafts from 2009. I never posted it and I forgot that I wrote it, so I'm posting it now. What an amazing summer this was... The sun is setting over my summertime life. I can feel the minutes and seconds ticking by almost as if they are counting down the time I have left on earth. I love the life I will be returning to, but right here, right now, in this city and with these people I feel happy and safe in a way that I haven't since the passing of my grandmother. I am holding on for dear life, gasping for breathe and trying not to think of this as the end to my time with these people who have become my family in every sense of the word... Tonight we sat around a table together telling our favorite memories of eachother, and I realized that I can't imagine my life without these people. My boyfriends, it seems, come and go, but through it all, my heart continues to stay in the same place it began 5 years ago... In the city by the bay.

This concept of "home" as it seems, does not have a street address, and sometimes changes with the seasons, but the people I identify it with have faces, and names, and amazing qualities that make my heart sing. They give me love, comfort, and most of all Laughter. It makes me wonder if, perhaps, instead of sending me a lover, my soulmates were sent to me in the form of my closest friends.

With each pasing sunset over my life, a new dawn is born. I have been coming and going for so long that I dont think I can even tell the difference between the two anymore. It seems in my life that I have set up so many different lives that I am always missinig someone. Always saying goodbye to some, while saying hello to others. It's impossible to explain the role that all of these people and places play in my mind, but each has its own unique chamber in my heart and shapes me into who I am.

This summer was a shot in the dark. I almost emded up someplace else, but somehow I feel that this is where I belong right here and right now.

Inspiration for difficult times

I found this poem today and it absolutely touched my soul, so I wanted to keep it in a spot that I turn to when things are difficult. Right here on this screen. Enjoy:
The Invitation
Oriah Mountain Dreamer Canadian Teacher and Author

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.