Gated

    Complex not Complicated. Enduring not Erratic. Caring not Careless. Comfort not Conflict. Nurturing not Negative. Partners not Protagonists.
    Is this too much to ask? Do I expect too much? Am I such an Introvert and Isolationist that I set the bar too high? Erect walls, build moats, set up a defensive perimeter, hide in defilade. I make forays out into the world, lower my guard, test the waters, and then retreat to my fortress of solitude. Are my expectations of an ally unreasonable? I like to think not. But it seems when I open the gate, lower the drawbridge and invite company inside so begins the inevitable assault from within. My fortress is sheer stone wall on the impenetrable exterior, but the interior is soft, crumbling shale, easily broken, shattered and crushed beneath careless boots. Do I refuse entry? Do I set a vanguard, suspicious of any who may ask entrance? Shackle visitors? Disarm them? Hold them at bay? Or should I continue to give them free access to all the nooks and crannnies, dark corners, hidden passages?
    I have become quite the expert at renovation, remodeling and repair. My internal skills grow with each encounter. I sweep up the debris, carefully patch breaches, rebrick, replace mortar, repaint, hang tapestries over scars. After each rejuvenation I have a period of time when I do not want any visitors bespoiling the freshly renewed interior, but this phase does not last long. The rooms and hallways are quiet, empty, cold and lonely, so I know I will risk it all over again. I just have to convince myself to open the gate.

Birds

Birds on the wires.

Staggered like staccato quarter notes on a treble clef.

What song? Sleepy nocturne? Lullaby? Sweet symphony? 

I think wild Jazz jam session. 

Freeform Fusion. 

Waiting to erupt into soaring solos.

Self Awareness

    I have written endlessly about my obsessive need to self-analyze, self-flagellate, dissect my psyche in full view of the public. Many would, and do, say it is not healthy to be quite so self-critical. Mebbe Yes. Mebbe No. It does give me a better than average self-awareness. I understand myself, my actions, reactions, and even my insanities. I understand them even if there are times when I feel powerless to do anything about it. But I am Self-Aware. I have begun to realize, rather late in life, that Self-Awareness seems even less common than common sense, though one would think that to be impossible. So many go through their lives acting and reacting to events that transpire, with little or no understanding of why they do what they do. And worse yet, they do not care. Most people are very content with their blithe reactions. Along with a lack of awareness comes the strange skill of being able to see all the flaws in others, as well as projecting their own shortcomings. It is the Great Denial. As flawed as each of us can be, few are willing to see, understand and accept or change their flaws.
    Of course I know I am flawed. Flawed. Cracked. Scarred. Lunatic. Manic. Spastic. I know most of my shortcomings and embrace them as part of the creature that is me. True, some flaws need attention. Some need medication. But most meld together to make me the unique individual that I am. I am Self-Aware. I have scrutinized my psyche through a magnifying glass, a jeweler's loupe, an electron microscope. I know me. And love me none the less. But I am all too often confronted by those who's self view is myopic at best, blind more likely. They act and react without any understanding of the cause or effect. I have been blamed, accused, ridiculed by those who would see my flaws and project their own. I bite my tongue, knowing the futility of reason, or, god forbid, retaliation with truths and analysis. No one wants to hear me opine their causal connections between act and react. No matter if I be right or wrong, though especially if I am right. I have a decent understanding of base psychology, I can see the hurt child behind the grown up temper. But no one wants to think they are at fault in any way. And so I often accept the blame, withstand the assault, excuse the behaviors.
    My wish? To find the rare individual that sees my flaws as I do, part of the complication that is me, without rebuke. Someone who is Self-Aware to understand and accept their own perfect imperfections. We are all imperfect. I have said this time and time again, Perfectly Imperfect. To find another that truly understands this. It is easy for others to allow me to accept them for who they are, but to have the tables turned? To meet one who can see me through understanding, accepting, Self-Aware eyes.

My Future/Past Stranger

    Some days, such as today, beat me to a pulp. I feel fractured, bruised, lacerated, flayed wide open with salt in the wounds. On days such as these, I find myself reading my own writings, and oddly, taking strength from the words as if they were written by a stranger but written specifically for me. As if a stranger from my future and past has written words of encouragement to guide me through days such as today. I  know that today was self inflicted, it was of my own doing, and left havoc in the wake. I know that I am the one who damaged, hurt, betrayed. It was not intended. Not planned. Poorly executed. I accept the blame and wear it like a hair cloak, a cilice, my guilt. It is never my intent to do harm, one of the mores of my beliefs is, "Harm None." And I try, I do. I try with all my heart, which is why my failure is all the more painful and shameful. No, there was no evil intent, no desire to inflict pain and suffering, but I must take responsibility for my actions, deeds, words. And I do. I accept responsibility. It is on me. Mine. I claim it.
    And so I read my own words back to myself. Roll them around in my skull. Take some measure of comfort from the stranger in my future/past who was wise enough to assemble letters into words into understandable phrases into life lessons. I try to gather some strength to send out a prayer of healing, though I am sure it will fall short, and fall on deaf ears. I must glean a measure of power from the future/past stranger and resist the urge to crawl into my shell, hibernate, hide until spring when I can uncurl slowly like a seedling seeking the warmth of the sun.
    I read my words. Tales of tragedy, triumph, Mania, Melancholy, elation, deflation. Tales that are mine. Stories I understand. Parables with meaning. The Saga of life, My Life. The words support me, shore up my flagging spirits, bolster my courage, ease my torment. I am glad of my future/past stranger and what she has done, will do for me. She keeps me upright and moving forward, or at least upright and not sliding back. I do still feel the cool air that rises from the abyss. I know of its existence. But I also know that I will not revisit that darkness. That is past, and written, to be remembered, but not dwelled upon. I am stronger than I was, stronger than I have ever been. I know my strength, my energy, my power. I know that even alone, I am strength personified. I do not fear the abyss, the darkness. My future/past stranger is my light, showing the way ahead by revealing the past. I understand her words. I understand me.

Loneliness

    The grey skies roll in and I feel their oppression. My heart becomes heavy, Melancholy threatens. I feel alone. Melancholy is like a deserted island in a sea of people. I am trapped on the island, thirsty, all around is water that I cannot drink of. My Strange Aloneness returns, and it seems there is little I can do to change the course of events. I stay busy, working myself into exhaustion. I forge ahead, maintaining my level of activity, setting up events to force me out into the public, out amongst friendly folk, out into the sea of people where I can either sink or swim. I flounder about, gasping for air, choking on salty water, trying to stay afloat. I do not concern myself with making headway, just in keeping my head above water. The Aloneness traps me, assaults my confidence, saps my energy, drains my spirit. True, I am comfortable with being alone, I am good at being alone, I have had years of practice. But it is the loneliness that creeps into my heart that I have little defense against. Weeks alone, missing a warm touch, contact, a corresponding puzzle piece. Far away, but not gone, just away. But loneliness has seeped into my soul. I know I can make it pass, force it into a dark corner of my heart, I have years of practice. I know it is just for the moment, the loneliness will come to an end, I am not truly alone, just lonely.

Catch Me If You can

    Catch Me If You Can! I awoke with a vibrant optimism that cannot be reined in or rained on. Despite the negative forces assaulting me on every side, my optimism is like an impenetrable shield. True, it may very well be the launch of Mania. But honestly, I don't care what it is. It could be the onset of a delusional episode, dementia, or just  the result of a good night's sleep. I don't care. It feels fabulous. It feels as though light is radiating from within, casting a golden glow, illuminating the darkness that seeps out from those around me. I will not let myself be affected by their gloom and doom, their pessimism, depression, negativity. It will not be allowed.
    Today I am looking to the future. My future. I know there are changes in the air that will affect my current financial situation, and we're not talking happy windfall. I know that I am on the verge of joining the rank and file of the unemployed. Yeah, sure, it has been something that I have been watching and anticipating for the better part of four years, but each business dip goes a little deeper, and never rises back to it's previous level. It has the ups and downs of a rollercoaster; the inner machinations pulling the cars to the highest pinnacle, then the heart in throat first drop, each rise is just a little lower, inertia carries the ride forward but with gravity taking its toll forward momentum naturally slows, slower and lower until it grinds to a halt and everyone disembarks on shaky legs. But I have decided to take the ride, hands in the air, and shouting with glee. It is either that or be vomiting out the side from sheer stress and vertigo. Today I choose glee.
    The last few years have shown me that I am the hand on the till. My life is my own to steer where I will. Yes, there are outside forces that effect my course, my need for a source of income being one of them. But I know that I can either sit back and wait, hoping that situations will resolve themselves, wait and be miserable with inertia, allow life to roll me along like a log in the surf, tumble me, cast me ashore randomly, drag me under with a riptide, or I can fight back. I know those who are willing to be the log, and bemoan their fate, end up beached, stranded, buried in the sand. I am not the log. I choose to take control, make choices, look at options, cast about for ideas. I will let my imagination run rampant and wild with possibilities. I will face challenges, see them as opportunities.
    For all that has happened this last year, for as far as I have come, as beautifully as life has blossomed, I know it is jut the beginning. I have laid the groundwork, gained confidence, feel aglow with potential. Now I can look forward to an exciting future. An uncertain future, true, but exciting none the less. I am off an another epic, whirlwind journey; Catch Me If You Can.

Choices

    Recently, an anniversary came and went without fanfare. The one year anniversary of me making a life altering decision. It was not a decision made lightly, or without ample forewarning, it was thought out and executed despite the fact that I knew it would cause me a mountain of grief and suffering. I was not wrong. The grieving process lasted a solid 8 months. I went through all the stages: Denial; Anger; Bargaining; Depression; and Acceptance. Some stages I went through several times. Some became nearly a way of life for a period of time. Some were definitely more painful than others. At times I felt damaged beyond redemption, wrecked, ruined. I knew what I would likely go through, but made the tough choice to save my own soul. I had to make the tough choices, because no one would have done it for me. It was my decision. My life-saving choice. True, I lost friends and connections, some had to choose sides, and I do not begrudge them that. But I survived it, came out stronger, saner, healthier than ever before. I feel as if I were cleansed by the fire, all the negativity that was holding me back was burned away, and I was finally allowed to flower, change, metamorph, thrive, truly live my own life as it was meant to be lived. This has truly been a summer of change, on every level. Yes, I am still the person I have always been, but am now far more true to myself than I have ever been. I am at the zenith of my life with no sign of it letting up. Yes, the pace does get exhausting at times, but it is a justified, physical exhaustion, not the fatigue of mental and emotional drain.
    Six months ago, I would have thought it impossible that this anniversary would go past unnoticed, even by me. But today I realized just that, it had indeed come and gone, and I did not even notice. I was too busy living my life, enjoying my day to day existence, looking ahead to growth, changes, challenges, and constant betterment of myself and my life. The joyful journey that is Me.