In between.

I woke up sad…

So I made an idea in my head about what I would do & where I would go-

In the end I stayed home, I took care of my home, my heart and eventually my mind was at ease…I often forget about ease.

Born into a complex family system- things moved fast.

I learned to adapt, to be quiet, obedient, not too much trouble, trying to take less space as to not burden my mom who already seemed to be carrying so much.

I only showed emotion when the environment felt right. Or when it was boiling up so intensely it couldn’t stay down.

I tried to make sense of the people around me. Analyzing people, places, and reactions makes me feel in control. It was my safe place as a kid, to make sense of the confusing… it didn’t feel safe to just be.

So now I wonder, who am I in tranquility?

My earliest calm moments are making myself toast in the early morning while my parents slept in. I’d take a Kraft singles slice and place it on a soft white bread. Place in in my easy bake oven until it looked toasty.

I guess I felt peace in doing it on my own. No one to judge, no one to impress, just me. I don’t even think I had thoughts then. I was probably in a deep presence.

Lately I feel like I tap into that space when I stay home.

My nervous system feels regulated, much closer to my emotions, sadness and disappointment come in waves and I release them like soft rain.

The other day I lashed out at him like my dad would lash out at me.

I never felt like I was who my dad wanted me to be or needed me to be. So he consistently reeled me in with hope and just when I felt relaxed he’d bash me - call me a bitch and point out all the things I’d done wrong. Even though they were things he’d never detailed I should do. Mind you, I didn’t really want to make him happy anyway. He didn’t deserve me.

I’d hoped one day he’d get better enough to be able to truly see me, for who I am you know. But he just wasn’t living in reality. I guess it was my first lesson in “not everyone will like you or think you’re great” despite him saying otherwise …I never truly believed him. Because his actions weren’t loving.

I learnt quite young that people can love you and still be fucking assholes. That apparently people can love you but not know you. They can miss you but never make the effort to see you. They can say things they don’t mean and convince themselves of whatever they want to feel better about their lack of action.

I guess this is where love equaling confusion started for me.

The hardest thing to admit now is that I wanted to believe his words but I knew in my gut he didn’t love me.

My dad did not love me.

My dad cared for me. My dad wished he could love me. But my dad was missing the tools.

Ironic because I have a track record of loving people who are missing the tools.

Perhaps I believed that had I been closer in proximity to him that I could have loved him into loving me better. Perhaps I feel safe in that dynamic. Comfortable living what I wish I had the chance to live with my dad but distance wouldn’t allow for.

I learnt that maybe I want too much & should lower the bar.

But I guess that’s it- there’s no such thing as lowering the bar. Your bar is always where it is - but we lie to ourselves because the illusion of love is what so many of us are used to. We do not even know what true love looks or feels like because we never got it…true love is a pipe dream so we settle for less.

In trying to love, we learn.

It seems that we are attracted to people who expand our consciousness, teach us more about ourselves and ourselves in love. Through the growing of the heart and the breaking of it, we feel the most complex of realities.

To love someone despite knowing they aren’t good for us. To love the imperfect and to love ourselves despite feeling shattered in pieces. To mourn both the actual loss and the fictitious one we believed in, while actively caring for ourselves and our new future.

To be both in love, in loss and swaying in between.