I sleepwalk along my new path. Each crossroads I came upon now are past dreams. My marriage, my marriage before that one, my apartments, my friends, my stays in rehabs and hospitals, my birthdays, my sick days, my pets, my words, His voice, my patients, and every touch- all swirl through my chest and up into my mind. They haunt me and comfort me. Now, though, they too are the Past.
Now, I am ME. I am a collage of these dreams. I am not finished. My resolve will grow and my back will straighten. I will love without bending. I will sob without shattering. I will continue to sleepwalk until I wake up smiling.
In a reading frenzy I have rediscovered sensuality In Fifty Shades, my uniqueness in A Sign of My Own, empathy in Me Before You, and a plethora of treasures. Another divorce threatens to turn me bitter and heartbroken. Another move with my tail tucked firmly between my legs threatens to suck my independence and pride from my muscles. I cannot cope with poison or pain. I cannot bolt from confrontation.
So I opt for others’ strength in fiction. I absorb the shapes and shadows in paintings. I welcome the passionate notes of the piano as words can now stab me with a shunned emotion. I have faith in my senses and uncertainty and doubt beyond that. I trust Aimee Bender’s words and Jack Vettriano’s strokes. I thank Beethoven for the peace currently swelling in my chest.
Coping strategies can be everything. I will learn to accept help from loved ones. I will try to accept that marriage is not necessarily for everyone and that sometimes your wings are stronger when flying alone. I will learn to never settle, that I can discover new passions, new talents.
I often am in awe of women who choose to strut down that new path with her heart bleeding and scars searing. I now have every intention of gluing my shattered pieces into a new mosaic. A collage of my past, love as my putty, and my senses to add color- I will strut towards my new adventures. I’ve died a thousand deaths already. Gonna try something new