Grounded

So much of my life revolves around my injured back. I began regularly incorporating several therapeutic yoga poses into my daily schedule, as well as a short meditation. The stretching took a ridiculous amount of pressure of off my back and I couldn't be happier to have avoided pain medication. When the pain starts to fade though, so too does the yoga and mediation practice. I have skipped practice more often than not this week, but getting back into it today is a step in the right direction.

Tomorrow I attend church for the first time in years. The church is unitarian, and very welcoming from what I have heard. I feel the need for some self-exploration. I feel the need connect to some higher power. I have had so much trouble with the traditional notions of God and Jesus, but I have so much respect for those who follow "the word" and love all equally. My trouble with God and Jesus stems from human hate. I know this new church does not preach hate, and I am looking forward to it a great deal.

I feel as if I am entering a new stage in my life; a more grounded stage, perhaps. I feel that the meditation and church service are connected. I feel better than I have in such a long time.

Conflict

I have had many misgivings about my decision to leave my current job. I got a clear signal though. I hurt my back again, doing something unavoidable in my current job. The pain is a healthy reminder to take it easy and take care of myself first. The next few days at work are likely to be stressful, painful, and all around difficult. Just more incentive to get working.

I feel like I am letting everyone down. I promised, by signing that contract, to be with the company for the next two years. I am only six months in and I am already backing out. I feel judged for it, probably rightly so. My friend's brother told me, "I'm too pure of heart too. You always want to make sure other people have what they need, but you need to make sure you are taking care of yourself first." I needed to hear that. It goes against my most basic instincts, but he is right.

Raw

Once more through another revolution, another rebellion. This time it will be my job. I have always made decisions suddenly and this one is no different. I am afraid of being without employment, but am excited for the next big thing. Here's to hoping.

One moment every day stops my heart. The waking moment, the moment between dreams and reality, the moment I think of you. I am happy now. I'm in a good place, but still you haunt me. I wake to thoughts of you, I wake to the ache of the pain I caused, I wake to regret. I wake to missing you. I want to ask, "Are you sure?" I almost text you the last time I was drunk. I almost asked, "Are you happy?" Just asking you that could cause pain, and so I didn't text. I'm only sad when I wake. I hope you are well. I wish for our mutual happiness.

Survivor's guilt

I am learning to accept that I will not forget her. I use to hate the memories that continually arise out of seeming nothing; sometime I still hate them. More and more I am finding that each memory is a reminder of how great life is now. Each memory is a reminder of the hate, the agony, the hurt, and then proof that I never need to experience life that way again.

The anniversary of the tornado was rough. I am in the grips of survivor's guilt selfishly experienced despite not actually "surviving" anything. I did survive though, when so many died, when so many lost loved ones. I loved her still all the while she was in that basement, our puppy clutched tight between her knees, the wind reeking havoc above her. She was terrified. She was always fearful of even the most innocuous storms; terrified of the hail, of the green clouds. I feel guilt because I should have been there too.  Had I been there, I may have been in any one of the houses cruelly demolished, could have been one of those lives cruelly demolished, all because the nature of my job.  Had I been in the basement with her, with puppy, I would have survived with her. She claims the experience changed her for the better. She claims seeing the dead taught her to value her life. She was two blocks away from being one of the dead. Her experience makes me value life too.

The woman I knew always valued money and objects, always valued pretty. Appearances were everything. I do not know her after her survival. I hope she morphed into someone wholly different. I hope she treats her fiancée well. I hope she does value the life she has, and does something beautiful with it.

I know real love now. I know real love because I left, because I never experienced that tornado, because I stood up for myself. Leaving hurt, but I am alive today because I left. I hope to do something beautiful.

Beautiful

Sometimes I understand the cat's urge to knock something off the table just to watch it fall. I discovered Chris Pureka today. After listening to and loving Andrea Gibson for so long, I am amazed I never looked up this name she mentions so often.
I look to this as my capsule. A way to store all of the other bits I don't want in my life; the old longings, the boredom, any unhappiness. This is where it goes. Why does it need to be public? I don't know that answer. Maybe all people feel a need to connect, even if "connection" means yearning for an unseen person who may or may not be present.
God, this song is a roller coaster. My heart has it's hands in the air, voiceless, feeling the plunge the screaming so often covers.
I love the melancholy introspection of Annie Dillard. I feel the same feeling from Chris Pureka. It's beautiful.
I have nothing to be unhappy about. I think the feeling is actually from the muscle relaxers. More chemistry in action.
I love talent. I yearn to express myself the way those two do. Beautiful.

I haven't written in so long I'm almost rusted shut. High fire danger today. The wind is billowing heavy smoke scented air, but outside I go because I can.

I did yoga today for the first time in months. My spine feels loose, but strained. The cats invariably lay on the mat beneath me during down dog, or push into my side for petting during spinal twists. Max just tries to ignore my heavy nose breathing.

Each pose teaches me something new. I never feel still; constantly adjusting, aligning, straightening. With a lower back problem and incredibly tight hamstrings, I am being taught to go slow. Slower still. It still feels good.

So this is love. I am struggling with our sex life. It is a problem in every relationship I have had. I am learning to relax a little. I try not to bring up sex, because I don't want to push. This relationship, my love her for, well...she is more important to me than sex.