She says suffering proves the depth of my love. I tell her to “Stuff it. I don’t need to prove anything to you!” She whacks me in the head. I call her names, she calls me worse. I apologize. It’s this way with us. But I could use less drama.
November 30, 2015
Tainted by my own mess, I had just cause to feel numb, unsure and insolent toward life, and I kept trying to bleed a bit more into a vial that couldn’t be filled. It soon became evident that clinging to resentment was too hard, and my results were more than redundant, cold and tiresome.
Sure I can save myself and heal the wounds, but there will always be a gap. There will always be space for someone to come in and replace. And that’s what I miss. Someone to keep that space warm and to remind me that I am not alone. I miss the fullness and the capacity that there is someone in ...