I’m softer now
a lot worn out
in all the right places

just the right size

loved before
used before
not new
but
new to you

Sometimes you meet someone and their energy matches so closely with your own. Sheila is that person for me. She’s the type of woman who sees you and warms your soul. Lately my words aren’t coming out right, or at all, so I’ll leave you with the advice she gave to me today as we drank our red and green smoothies. I hope she’ll teach me how to tell the difference.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m so compelled to write. Why have I always been?

Yesterday my neighbor hung a plastic bag on my front door. Inside was a sweater she thought would look good on me. I didn’t notice her pass by my window to deliver it.

The sun had gone down without me noticing—my fingers furiously writing a poem no one will ever read.

Later, when I spotted the gift, I walked next door wearing the sweater, to give her a giant hug.

She asked where I was earlier. “There were no lights on,” she said.

“I was home,” I told her, “writing poetry in the dark.”

“I write poems, too,” she said, “but they all start with roses are red, violets are blue.”

I laughed. Mine aren’t at all romantic, I thought, remembering a sad one I wrote the other day about a sapling growing up all alone.

My neighbor lost her husband suddenly a couple years ago. I still remember the sound of the siren. I quickly changed the subject and asked how she was doing.

She told me she’s okay on her own because she’s begun to practice gratitude every morning—the way her mom taught her. Her mother was 102 and a half when she passed, but never complained, and remained focused on what she did have instead of what she didn’t. When her feet hurt she’d say, “Well, at least I have feet!”

As we sat and drank decaf tea together, I was reminded of how grateful I am. For you.

When I lose sight of why, you tend to find me in those moments.

You’ll ask me about my book, tell me you felt less alone after reading my blog or that you lingered over a word I chose. Because of that, I do keep going.

Thank you for reading, my silly (and oftentimes dark) musings.

The words
“In a year things will be completely different”
have been ringing in my ears all these months.

In my lowest moments the timeline taunted me.
It forced upon me a deadline
to be changed, better somehow.
What if I wasn’t?
What if I was still broken in little pieces?
What would that say about me?

On better days I found hope in the idea of using it
as a place to stop
yet again
and reflect.

To understand my past year
you have to know how
I reached in and found motivation
in my two little loves
who were looking up at me
wide eyed
with curiosity and confusion
needing me to steer the ship
even if I didn’t know exactly which direction to go
even when I was acting like a drunken sailor slurring my words after another sleepless night.

I kept my eyes on them
never losing my focus
and
I am here now.

The basics are now back in place.
The easy things I took for granted like
sleeping and eating
running
writing
laughing
have all returned to me.

I don’t recommend having your life shattered
but if one year showed me anything about myself
it was to see
that I was bold enough to admit
how deep I was in the darkness
and that I simply could not keep going on as normal.

I had to be as selfish as possible.
For the first time ever
I was looking after my own welfare
as the only avenue
I was willing to take to save myself.

I fear that even writing this
makes it seem like I don’t fully comprehend
that worse things could have happened to me.
And yet I am convinced it is important to share
that even a common thing
such as a divorce
is so very misunderstood.

The messiness of it all and how it has rippling effects into every part of life
is so beyond comprehension for those who haven’t been through it.
How you must go on
the same way you would as if someone you loved had just died.
The world keeps on turning
and you just want to scream at the top of your lungs how nothing will ever be the same.
But, you can’t.
Your work is to just restlessly keep going.

If I had kept on being selfless
I would have never
ever
been here in this moment today.

I know the pausing, the focus on me
was what saved me.

Little by little
over cold winter mornings and soul-crushing nights
I filled up my cup with small, seemingly insignificant things that made me happy.

I did
follow my bliss
until one stale night in February
something shifted.

After six months of deprivation
deliriousness
I woke up
rested
after a full night’s sleep.

But also,
it began for me the type of waking up
where my senses weren’t so dull.
I felt more.
I allowed myself to feel
even if it was reckless of me.
The newer me
loves to risk it.
Just for the goddamn thrill of it all.

I can’t say for certain what’s next for me or what this next year will bring.
I do feel sturdier.
Centered.
Ready to handle all the ups and downs
that are sure to come.

I’m now better
though not perfect
at listening to my gut
or at least knowing when I’m actively ignoring it.
And so now
the work lies in following it
That beautiful intuition inside of me
to see where it leads.

I am far less controlled
by fear or the unknown.

I am confident about
who I am
and my ability to stand on my own.

I now know that it’s all these little gut checks
and gathering tiny bits of happiness
whenever you can
that keep you
on the path that was ready
waiting patiently
just for you.

My best friend says
I live in another time zone.

She’s right.
Except…
I often feel I’m farther away than that
dreaming in a different universe.

I jump in without considering the consequences.

Starting with an 8 mile run I haven’t trained for
straight past a no-alcohol allowed sign with a whiskey affixed to my fingers
through an icy lake
and into love as if it hasn’t shattered me before.

I’m so tired of following the rules with
my writing
in life
and
in love.

Because I see where playing it safe dropped me.

There’s poetry in my loneliest hour
when I can laugh at myself
for being a walking contradiction.

One minute I’m so sure of the decision I’ve just made
and a second later I am suddenly feeling more clueless than ever.

This often leaves me dazed.

But, I think that’s the nature of
the dreamer.

When I’m not quite here or there
I know that’s my heart being wildly impulsive
and taking me on another self-imposed fool’s errand
which I decidedly won’t question
until it’s over
when I am cursing my heart
and wishing I’d just use my brain.

And yet, over and over, I’d rather risk it
to see where my longing leads
even if it doesn’t make sense
to anyone else
or even
to me.