Mostly Okay

Meme of person crying: "Me in my room imagining fake scenarios and hurting my own feelings." 

I saw this meme awhile back, and last night I did exactly this. What started out as a simple trip down memory lane, left me feeling so sad by the end that I actually cried. Like out loud, made myself sob.

Looking back at images over the last few years, instead of a feeling wistful nostalgia, I was just pissed off that I've lived so much hurt. And then, as if that wasn't painful enough, I created all sorts of alternate universes in my mind of where life could go from here, with every one of them leaving me the short end of the stick.

I totally understand how people get to the point where they no longer choose to open up their hearts, since it's just a big old disappointment every time. A track record of people never delivering.

Maybe there's a little bit of the past I still need to reconcile. Little pieces of broken hearts left over from the years, in the sense that you can be over something, you can move on, and move along, but maybe you haven't fully processed, fully absorbed? The little pangs of hurt haven't become part of the whole, and they can bump and sting, like a game of Operation.

Maybe quarantine is getting to me. I've liked being alone so much lately, but perhaps now it's reached a point where being alone too much isn't a good thing. It gives me too much time to wander in my mind, and I should have known that I have a limit there. It can become too much. My imagination, big feelings, and love of time to just think is what makes me a great artist. Performer, and writer. But. This is also what makes being human so damn tricky for someone like me. The spiral becomes too deep, and you long to claw out, but you've explored so internally you can't enter into the outside world yet, leaving you in a big conundrum. If you know, you know. 

Alone. This was the problem last night, you see. It was thinking about being alone...forever. And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure I'm up for that, should that happen. I started to worry about the types of love I have in my life, and is that enough to sustain me? Family, friends, and the love of my sweet son - which I am so lucky and grateful for.

But what about the other type of love?
And then...what if my son never sees me loved? 
And then...am I okay with that?!

I just don't know.

It's now the morning after, and I am out for a run. I notice my thighs hurt from last night's run, but my heart doesn't hurt from last night's cry. And by 9 o'clock this morning...I am mostly okay. Will I be okay in years to come? Will my story be beautiful? Are there great surprises in store? Will it all "work out"? Only time will tell. But for now, it's just 9 am, and I am mostly okay.

What's the quote? Something about doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of insanity? Well, consider me certifiably insane, because I will never close off. I will never stop trying.

I will not stop opening my heart, even though it's only ever ended...
And even though it's only ever ended...
I am mostly okay...

so...I keep running.


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