The Lie I Tell Myself

So many things I want to say

So many questions to ask

But I don’t feel very brave today

And I’m hiding behind my mask

Can you hear my heart

Cracking in my voice

Can you see the tears

In my smile

Won’t you say the words

Or just walk away

The pain stops in a little while

Can you feel the lie I tell myself

For sanity’s own sweet sake

Please – just say the words

Or let me go

There’s not much more

I can take.

Sand

It’s been a long road, getting here.

There’ve been moments of joy. Many, glorious, beautiful moments, which seemed to pass in a blink.

There’s been pain. Crushing, heartbreaking, deep and seemingly endless, times of pain.

And, I’m tired.

Tired of being told “Stop looking for love, & it’ll find you”.

That’s a bullshit cliche’.

Tired of being alone, and knowing that at 46…it’s not an impossible thought…that there might never be someone who will care enough to want to be with me “forever”, again.

Tired of searching, & ending up hurting again, when the other person decides to take a pass, or has “commitment issues”, or just…disappears.

Tired of being told to “get out there, meet people, be social”.

I don’t do the bar scene.

I’m Pagan, so obviously, don’t attend churches.

And, after the last few debacles with dating apps…yeah, no thanks, there.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is for an introverted, 46-yr old divorced mom with anxiety to meet new people in a town where the main social scene (practically the only social scene) is the bars? 

Stop throwing cliches at me, please. 

Goddess, I’m so tired of the “buck up, little camper; there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” “Just go with the flow, live your life, have fun & love will find you.

Yes, the night is dark & full of terrors.

And some of them have taken up residence inside my head, tonight.

It’ll pass.

Like sand blowing in the wind… Like the days slipping by in my life. 

We don’t get to live forever, you see…

And eventually the sand runs out.

Standing at the Crossroads, Waiting for ~

For a long time now, I have felt as though I’ve been in limbo.

Imagine a crossroads, dusty and forlorn, on a lonely stretch of deserted gravel road. A middle-aged, redheaded woman sits on a stack of boxes, staring off into space, absently tucking flyaway hairs behind her ears, and sighing at nothing in particular. The sun sits midway through the afternoon sky, warming her back, and she stands, wanders up to the dented stop sign, looks left, looks right, turns back & sits down again.

Me.

Waiting.

For what, you might ask?

Oh, for the fulfilment of a promise, for the chance to change her circumstances, for the liberation of knowing that she’s successfully raised the last of her children to an independent, adult stage of life, & she can make decisions now, solely based on what’s best for her, and no one else. 

I love my children.  I love that I was given the opportunity to raise them, to love them, to nurture their growth into responsible, independent adults.

But, every large decision I’ve made in my life since March 13, 1991, has been influenced heavily by “what’s best for the child/children”, not just for me.  

And for the last few years, I’ve felt as though there was this staticky, dusty place in the back of my brain, where that woman sits at the crossroads, waiting for the next stage. Waiting for “what comes next”.

Men have come and gone from my life, for whatever reasons they felt were valid at the time. Only 1 said he was in it for the long haul; but even he has failed to actually appear in person to begin this life he says he longs for. All the rest, whether they originally said they were “there for me” or were just in it for the moment, or nostalgia, or just wanted the temporary convenience of another warm body nearby, ended up walking away. 

I’m tired of being a “temporary fix”. I’m weary down to my bones of waiting for this elusive “luv” to show up. I’m not content, anymore, to be someone’s “right now”.

I want more. I want to go, get out, move and shake and rattle some cages. I want something to change.

And I want to stop being that woman at the crossroads, waiting for…

1 more year… Then…watch me.

Watch me fuck shit up; shake a few trees to see the residents fly out, screeching about being dislodged from their comfortable perches; watch me change my little corner of the world as I rise up from that stack of boxes, kick them into the ditch, and pick a direction to 

Just. Start. Walking.

Then. Watch me. As I walk away, & start my own life. 

As difficult as it will be to start over at the middle age of 47 (as I will be this time next year), I will do it. 

Because I’m tired of limbo.

Tired of waiting for change to swoop me up & deliver me someplace else.

Tired of being left by the side of the road when I’m no longer “convenient”.

Fuck that. 

It’s my turn.

Sturgeon Moon

I’m waiting for that moon, tonight.

The full moon. The lunar eclipse riding in the Aquarius constellation. The autumn’s change moon that is supposed to shake things up, change my world, and rattle all the cages, freeing beasts and beauties alike.

I’m waiting for this fiery moon to rise.

Something has to change.

I’ve told friends that I’m tired of being single, that I’d like to have a “special someone” again. That I want a relationship with someone that I know is headed toward commitment, eventually.

That, someday, I want to get married again.

And they tell me to “be patient”, that love will find me when I least expect it.

But how does that happen when you don’t ever go out, meet new people, try new things & new places?

And no, I’m not going on the dating apps again. I’ve gotten into enough trouble for myself there.

But, you ask, to rely on the moon to change this…isn’t that stretching credulity a bit?

Not in my faith, it’s not.

Being Pagan, I look to the universe to hand me my cues, and yes, that means the moon’s cycles, the stars in the heavens, the ebb and flow of the seasons & the tides.  The energies that I receive from contact with nature help me in more ways than one, and often.  

Sometimes, I forget that.

So, tonight, I’m drawing in the moon, calling her light into myself, and bathing in the changes she is going to bring.

Because I am a child of that moon, those stars, this earth.  

And I will honor and remember…

And try to be patient.

The Ghost in the Machine…

*brought to you via today’s Daily Post Prompt*

My phone rings, and it is him.

The ghost in the machine.

His voice floats over the distance, telling me things I’ve longed to hear, waited years for, hoped incessantly to come true.

But words are wind.

Blown away in a breath, dispersed into the ether from whence they came, worth no more than the air it took to speak them.

Promises broken, dreams scattered like Legos on the floor, causing pain when encountered, alone and stumbling through the dark.

Some days, I wish I could exorcise this spirit, banish him from my life, so I could move forward & seek love elsewhere…

Other days, I cling to the time spent, holding tightly to the feelings engendered by this disembodied voice, this dislocated ghost who dwells inside my phone, my computer, my head.

How do you dislodge such a deeply entrenched resident?

Cautery?

I’ve reopened the wound more than once, staunched the bleeding, laid fire to the injury, in the hopes of sealing the breach, but it does no good.

Time heals all wounds, they say…

But how much time am I supposed to grant this spirit, this ghost, before I cry “ENOUGH!!” ?

3 years…

And counting…