“Safe as houses.”–Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
I am trying to move past the fact that I let myself fall for a pack of pretty (albeit well-crafted) lies. I foolishly fostered some rare hope that I might have a chance at a “normal” life….and by normal, I mean actually taking the risk to settle down with someone I loved. What can I say…I believed I was in love. They were beautiful, they were creative and smart, they loved to cook..(okay, yes, I’m also trying to avoid getting maudlin *wry laugh*). I know I am still holding on to that idea of love for that person, but I am finding other ways to let go, in the meantime.
Over the years, I have carefully hoarded stuff, dragging it from place to place as I flitted about the country, or took on the fiscal and emotional burden of storage. I did this, despite all practicality, because I was holding on to a “maybe someday” dream that I would eventually get tired of the restless lifestyle, and set up roots in my lovingly restored vintage home, or in a wee blue cottage on a rocky shore by a tumultuous ocean (with sea roses by the front door), or a in a lighthouse at the end of the world–you get the idea. I have a shoebox of magazine clippings that embodied this dream, visually–its online version was recently started on my Pinterest page that my friend talked me into setting up. (http://www.pinterest.com/fmaggot/safe-as-houses/).
There was an unspoken, unacknowledged part of this dream that I might find a life partner to share in my space, even though I have never been very good with people, have always been a recluse by default, have never had many real friends (if ever, truthfully), and have successfully fended off any attempts to be suckered into the love myth (well, until now) by building a fortress that protected me and my inner worlds, and inner self from the cruelty of the human race.
So, in the aftermath of this fierceness of emotion I felt for another person, I have decided to jettison a lot the stuff I have hoarded over the past ten years or so–retro furniture pieces, collectibles, hundreds of paper-and-ink books–strip myself down to the barest minimum of possessions. (I’m keeping my cats, of course–I’m not an irresponsible pet caretaker like a lot of other people are.)
It’s not as painful as it would have been, once, as my attachment to these things pales against the first, and only, time I felt something real for another human. The stuff that I had carefully treasured now feels empty, static, and is serving to only weigh me down while I am trying not to drown in heartache, misery, and bitterness.
Time to (entirely) let go, and come to terms with the wildness inherent in my nature….
Jack (from the movie Titanic): “Well, yes, ma’am, I do… I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s gonna happen or, who I’m gonna meet, where I’m gonna wind up. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it. You don’t know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count.”