Sunday, November 20, 2011

Learning to love with an open hand

While lonely, single life was easy. I had nothing to loose.
Now, the gravity of what can slip through my fingers weighs heavy, a constant hooked net over my heart.
“What’s the measure of a man. . . is it loving someone even when you know there’s a risk they could walk away from you forever?” Lover Enshrined, JR Ward
I’d like to blame all the things that have happened to me, like to blame HWMNBN, like to blame any and everyone else. And, honestly, some blame can go there. Moreover, the blame is mine, or my genetics to be more specific. Be it nature or nurture, I am the kind that holds too tightly. The kind who often looses the moment for fear of the future. The kind that can’t feel safe until each item has been crossed off.
We’ve past our six-month mark, Smokey and I. The further we go, the more in love I am, and the more terrified I become. I have to get a grip. It sucks the joy from the most joy-filled time of my life. This narrows it down too much, but I think it’s rather accurate; I think part of me believes that I’m not safe until I have ring on my finger and our names co-mingled on a mortgage. Is that the definition of safe to me? I think, yeah, kinda. However, how much you wanna bet that I’ll be blogging some equally equivalent fear half way through the honeymoon? Rings slip off. Houses burn down.
The ridiculous part? And, probably both side of this logic are equally ridiculous, I truly cling to and believe that moment on May 15th when he was walking down the sidewalk and the realization hit of, “Oh, You’re the one.” As clear and strong as anything I’ve ever felt. Possibly ridiculous that I give the credence, and ridiculous that I can’t let myself simply rest in that.
I think I have the timeline in my head, and if things aren’t checked out at the scheduled time, then the world will crumble. Smokey is thinking that he will probably buy a house in the next sixth months or so. Normal, good, healthy thing to do. He hasn’t had his own house that was solely his in probably close to ten years, and he feels like he needs to do that for a bit for his own process. Writing it out, even I can see the logic in it. However, where do I go? Supporting his need for this experience? Nope. I hear years, Years, before we get married and start building a home and family together. I hear that I’m bugging him and he doesn’t really love me. I hear that he’s going to leave me and I have to try to function sans/Smoke.
I have to get a shot of reality, to be able to see through and hear truth (and love) through my fear. I have to. I have to enjoy the moment we are in, whatever that moment it. I have to, for both of us—so that I’m not driving him crazy, and so I’m not driving myself crazy. Need to breathe, deeply, and bask in the love that is better than I ever dreamed possible. Need to turn over the worry and pseudo control that I convincement that I have.
Father, I thank you so much for the life you have given. Specifically, I thank you for man you have given me. Thank you for his kindness, gentleness, patience, and goodness. Please help me attain greater wisdom, both mentally and emotionally. Help me to rest in the moment, to trust in you and what you have provided. Help me to love that lifts wings to the sky, not suffocates under a down blanket.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

our prologue

long have I known fairy tales rely on

refused to ever open the book
the words upon my heart never to be
written by another

fallacious princes clamored sonnets
promised wings to fly
to the sun

sealed still
the pages
secure between solid bindings

enter the man
claiming no royalty
vowed no magic

dismissed upon first glance
then cover wrenched wide
leaves laid bare

the man lavished red upon each sheet through

ramparts crumbled
moats traversed
dragons slain

fantasy proven dull and flat
reality with the man

both in hope and

plot of witch
bellow of ogre
pierce of thorn

no shining armor
lacking white steed
and yet a fall

try as they may the covers shall not

lowly dirt embraces the tumble
cover and coat
humble and choke

through trepidation
pain and gash
hands extended and grasped

heroes of a quest
stand on trembling limbs

villains encircle
waiting to seize

magic not from fairy or wand
emanating from hearts and hands
our epic has begun

filled by destiny’s scarlet scrawl

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

knitting wounds

Home sick again today. Actually, I went to work then came back. Just utterly exhausted and achy. I decided to teach myself to knit. After four hours, I have the ugliest little rat of scrap cloth you’ve ever seen. Wow! It’s hard! Nice to simply sit on the couch and listen to a book on tape and forget everything else.
It has been a horribly hard three-four days. Smokey and I have hit our first obstacle, and it has left both of us aching, afraid, and in pain. It’s amazing the more you love someone, the more they can hurt you.
It has been a challenge to simply breathe. Every bit of me is in panic mode. Will he run away? Will he throw in the towel? Will he say it’s easier to simply be on his own? Will I be too much?
I don’t believe he will. I truly believe he is the man I’m going to marry. With everything in me, I believe that. It’s just, at these weak moments, where your wounds and insecurities are ripped open (just as you were starting to get a handle on them), it’s like an all-consuming monster! I believe that we will get through this time, stronger than ever, and more able to withstand future obstacles. I know what my life is like without him, and I don’t want to experience that ever again.
We prayed together yesterday. Pretty cool. Pretty amazing, actually. To pray with my BOYFRIEND, about our RELATIONSHIP! And to believe that God is honored by us turning to Him. How my views of God have changed!
That said, keep us in your own prayers, if you think of it. That we would lift each other up, that we would put the other first, and continue on this most wonderful journey of my life.