Five years ago.....

Five years is a long time.
A long time to go without really talking about something.  Or really feeling it.

Five years ago at this time I was pregnant.  And it almost killed me.  It turns out it was ectopic and ruptured one morning while we were at the beach.  After a 45 minute ambulance ride and emergency surgery, I was fine.  Within 20 minutes of dying, the doctor said.  But you'll be ok now, he said.

I wrote about it then. I wrote about friends' support and trying to get back out into the world.  I wrote about losing a baby, who at only two inches still had hopes and dreams bundled into him.

But I didn't write about almost dying.

I was recently told that I wouldn't talk about it. I don't remember that. I've thought a lot about that:  I think I couldn't. I knew somehow that if I talked about almost dying, I would lose it.  And I couldn't do that.  Not when it was so clear, so plain, that everyone needed me.  I'm the rock.  I need to be ok.  Even now, to think about it my feet go numb; my heart rate increases.

I couldn't go there then -- but that wall I built around the fear and pain is coming down.  I want to feel it.  I need to feel. Parts of me can't be walled off anymore.

So tonight, all tucked in my bed, thinking about going to the beach tomorrow, my mind slipped back. Somehow knowing I am strong enough, there was a shift, a crack and I was through the wall:  I was back on the gurney, my doctor on one side, my husband on the other. Trying to be calm, feeling the anesthesia take hold and being absolutely terrified.  My girls, my girls...I can't die.  I just took them to the beach, they ran off to play -- no special hugs.  Would they even remember what I last said to them?  I probably yelled something about sunscreen.  My husband.  My love - I can't leave him. Alone, with the girls, without me. They can't survive.  I can't just slip away....

All this fear came out - and I lost it.  Out of the blue - feeling these feelings.  Fresh. Raw.  Crying and crying. Losing it.

But not forever. I stopped crying, then started again - but that was ok.  Feeling this is ok.  Losing it is ok.  Because in losing it, I am not lost.  I am found.

Good Bye 2013

Good bye 2013 . . . .

You will always have a special place in my heart as a time I took huge steps in my life. Forward and backward - all directions.

In this year, I have known loss as never before.  I have learned more about myself than I thought possible. I am still learning to be gentle to myself and that regret does not get me very far.  That sometimes being lonely and sad is necessary.  As is dancing with wild abandon alone in my apartment.  The good, the bad . . . you know the rest . . .

Good bye 2013.  I will never forget you, but I'm glad you are gone.

Regret

Treading water in a pool of regret...
Not productive, but where I am today,
And the weeks before.

Someone pull the plug
Drain this pool.

I need to walk out,
But don't know how.

The Half-Life of Love

If you build a wall around your love for someone, what is the half-life of love?
When can you take the wall down and not get burned?
What if the wall gets cracked?
How do you protect yourself from the fall out?

Hole

Hole

Dark

In this hole

I dug.

Deeper and deeper.

Why?

Gave up so much.

My own doing,

My own hands. 

Civil War

Civil War

Competing forces

Inside

One to nurture, cocoon myself

One to go crazy and fuck the world.

Balance,

I have not.

Erase

Erase

The plans, the dreams

flit into my mind.

Rub them out --

erase with my finger.

Need an app for that,

for my mind

and heart.