Another old writing from the vault…and so I release the hold that was in my “draft” folder…back to the universe, to be recycled for the greater good of us all. And so it is.
The shift seems to be coming. The changes are imminent. I am shedding. The light is making its way in. Being different and being alone…being the Lame Goat makes sense to me now. I had to hang back to prepare myself to lead the way. The tide is turning. That is what I a feeling. The Lame Goat is waiting to bring us all home. I have been here all along. Right here, all along. Unbeknownst to even myself, I have been right here all along. Thank you brother Rumi. I love you.
I wandered a ways from my thoughts on this one. Picturing a scape goat of days gone before. I have been in so much pain lately. Posting it just hasn’t seemed like the right thing to do, until it subsided a bit. In the throes of it, I wasn’t sure I would come out on the other side of this darkness. Feeling like a martyr and knowing I’m not…feeling sorry for everyone except myself for having to endure my pain. Fuck, this rhetoric is old and stale as fuck and misplaced. These words trailing and lost…some of them blaming and angry. My life has become a place of wreckage and I have become a traveler. There is nothing for me here, in the wasteland of my past. The wreckage is me. The void is me. The darkness has become me and does not become me at all.
My mind is slowing down. All of my wondering about where you went and why…settling at my feet…for it matters not why. You are not here now. I am here now. You and I…we are not. I don’t know what to do with that. I truly don’t. If I think about it for one second, the lump in my throat overflows and the tears well up. How could we come to be…this? I mean how did you and I lose our way? How did you just leave here without me, after bringing me here? I do not understand. My life has been hard…so, so fucking hard. You know. And you…you were my safe place. You. And now you have left. I thought that I left too. I didn’t leave though. I stayed. I am trying to leave because staying here without you…well, there is no point to that. The chairs I will never sit in and the views I will never see out those windows…the clothes on the clothesline and the dinner on the table…happy hour on the back patio and Sunday brunch. All faded and dead with the woman in the middle of it all. She died and we died too. She left and we left too. Everyone left when she left. Her things. Just things. Her things. Memories though…they just won’t quit. Like old records and familiar lyrics…they play over and over and over again and remind me that you left here without me.
My memories. I sort and shift them…I toss and I turn them. I hold them and I let them go. I cry a lot. We were so, so broken. We weren’t. You were. I was. He was and she was. We though…we weren’t, or we would still be. In Gods hands means that you wash your hands of it. God doesn’t do our dirty work and you taught me this. God gave us tools and you have set your tools down…the very tools you showed me how to use. I pick my tools up and I thank you for the teaching. I will not stay here watching you and your tools do nothing, as you hand it to God. God handed it right back to you and you let it fall. You knew it would break if you did not stretch out your arms. You knew it would shatter if you hit it again. You knew it was over because you made it so. This is not Gods mess. This is not my mess. Generations of nothing but fucking messes and this one is the one that ends them all. This one mess that you made…this one step that you took…this one gesture to end it…it ended it. I have gone to my ends not to end it and yet, it has ended. Now I return to my senses to accept that it is finished. Your business with me, as it were….your obligation to me…met. And here I stood, outstretched before you, throwing my soul for you to save yourself from drowning. I had no idea that you jumped in on purpose. I almost died trying to bring you back to safety and you pulled me under. You left me under and hurried the other direction. I cannot not feel how this feels. I can’t not hurt. You, the one who would never betray…the one who would never go…the one that would never hurt me…You simply taught me that there is no such someone as this.
Someday I will thank you for all the teaching you are doing in your absence. Someday when my heart comes back together, if the pain of it doesn’t take me first, I will know that you favored me by discarding me. Today though, I just feel discarded. Today everything that feels anything at all hurts me, as I search for you. Someday I won’t look anymore. Someday I won’t cry anymore. Someday I will remember without tears and grief. Today though….today I die inside. Today I bury myself next to mom, for that is where you left me. For you, that is where I shall stay. For me though…for me…I lie elsewhere. I lie in fields with Rumi. I don’t belong in your trash pile. One mans trash, they say…another mans treasure. Maybe once I polish me off…maybe then I shall be someone’s treasure. Today though…today, I am in shambles. Today I am not fit for me…not fit for the world. Today…this day…my only day…hurts me.
These ramblings…my salvation. This awareness shall be the launching pad for my orbit to the moon.
There will never be anyone or anything that will keep me from loving you. Not even and especially you. Loving you has to come after loving me now though. My wellness comes before yours. My happy, more important to me than yours. You threw me away and I forgive you, for I can see that you’ve no idea what you have done. No care or concern for what you’ve done either, and so I step aside. Loving you shall be the one thing that you cannot take from me. You have done your best and you may stop now, for nothing you ever do to me will diminish my love for you. All you have done in all of this is to show me how very little you love yourself. I am sad to see you love yourself so little, for I have always loved you so much.
Before I turn away, I find myself trying to focus in on who we really were. At that kitchen table…on those church pews…in this crazy world, who were we? In that house that we grew up in, who the fuck were we? Where did we go? Was the only we in all of us, actually only ever her? Was she the whole picture and we were just the backdrop? Who the fuck were we in that little family before she died? Did we all just live out our lives to her will and her vision. When she left, did we not have vision of our own? Did we really lie down next to her and die too? Did you die the day her heart stopped beating? I will say my truth. I will say it now. I think you died right there with her. I think you are already buried right there on top of her. Your dash stopped when her heart stopped. You went to find her and she hasn’t got you and we haven’t got you. You are in oblivion somewhere, out there, without us…trying to reach her. You left us to find her. She left us to find her. We are here and we don’t know that in the fuck has happened to us… to you. Who were we? I mean, who were we behind who we said we were? Who were we really? Were we ever really who people thought we were or were we someone else? I guess it doesn’t really matter much at all. Some days though, I can’t help but wonder who we really were. I wonder who and where you are. I miss you and I love you and I try so hard to put it far enough out for you to feel it. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you now. I feel that and I hurt. I thought I would always matter to you. We do run out of time, don’t we? To live? To die? To do what we came here to do…we do run out of time.
Depression has me. The depths and the darkness. The pain and the loss. Yep, depression picked me up right where you dropped me off and I haven’t been quite right since. At every stop the door opens and I cannot move to get out, so I stay another round. Depression picked me up right where you left me and she will not set me down. Some days she spares my life and that is about all. Other days, my life force goes with her to look for you. Yes, depression came for me when you threw me away. Depression has her claws in me and you don’t even know if I’m here or gone. It matters not anymore. You are done with me and depression has picked me up and taken me away. Of all of the things I have ever loved and lost, you have been the hardest….the most shocking and the most painful. My guts and my heart and my chest, all caved in. My hopes gone. You gone. Me gone. Depression came for me, and she knows less mercy than you, and cares less for me than you did, if you ever really did.
Today, and so, so many days, losing you feels to be the beginning of the end of me. Of all he things I have ever lost, I miss you the very most.