Thankful was the One She Never Minded Saying Twice

Redemption. It's a real thing. It can happen. I had a talk last week with someone that I love and respect deeply about the line. The line between human and irredeemable. For that person, there is a clear line. I don't think I have one. I think that's part of what makes me who I am. There is always the gray. In the instance we were talking about, my friend was right and I was "sentimental and stupid" my words. Someone else I love said that "sentimental and stupid" is part of my love language.

I will love anyone who will let me. And another dear friend tonight told me that's one of the things they love most about me. And that I am so resilient. They call me with the worst of news. I guess because I'm one of the most earth-beaten people alive. Not that I didn't do some of it to myself. Most of it.

They think I've found my purpose. I've been feeling like that lately too. I've needed somewhere to direct my anger and my frustration and my confusion and my pain and my hope and love and wonder. All of that energy has to have a place to go and I think I see where it has to go now. That feels really good. And a little scary. Because what if I fall on my face? It's not just my sense of purpose at stake anymore.

So I'm sitting here in my chair with my feet on my ottoman, nursing a sore back and a glass of dry rose in my Planned Parenthood glass looking like I have pink eye because that's what happens when you're this pale and crying your fucking eyes out.

Bad news. Bad news last Wednesday. A blow to my heart Thursday. Today, more of the same. So I ran straight to the thing that helps me when my heart hurts. The thing I do when I need to talk and I just don't know who to ask. There are so many people who say they are there for you, and maybe they are, but how do you really know? I don't want to be the downer. And I have been a doozie of a downer lately. I heal myself in art of a few kinds. I think that's what a lot of artists do. Creating helps the hurt. It also expresses the joy and it's a visual representation of love. And sometimes, an edible one. I wish nothing more in the world today that for my Daddy to be here to have a big ole slice of this red velvet cake I baked. Even if it's absolutely terrible, he'd tell me it was the best thing he's ever eaten. And he'd probably believe it just because I made it.

I've had two days of my favorite musician live. The first one was hard. As it was supposed to be. I guess I get kind of forward-moving and task-oriented and I don't think about how a situation will make me feel until I'm actively living it. And usually up to my ass in it. I didn't realize how hard that first show unmarried was going to be. Welp, that's my M.O. Last night was better. I love being there with the band and people who love the band and all the joy and sadness and healing they've given me as long as I've been seeing them. Oh, the things a decade has brought me with them. I sit here and wonder about how much I have changed. And the ways I wish I could change and haven't yet. I'm maybe a little kinder to myself now. I certainly know myself better. I guess that's the real progress. I'm so grateful for that bit of self-awareness. I think that's really the place to start.

It's been such an emotionally dense week. There is someone I really want to take up on the offer of a literal shoulder to literally cry on. I hate to admit how much I need that right now. I love that there is someone I feel like I can be all messy like that with. I'm not sure I've ever been okay with that with someone else. I'm really good at falling apart by myself. I'm really bad at being vulnerable to anyone else. I've spent my life being punished for it. Get soft and someone will use it to hurt you. That may be true, but what else do you do?  I'm too old to be ashamed.

It's not all bad though. It really isn't. There are some really beautiful highlights. My therapist always starts our sessions off with a high and a low since we last spoke. I have never had any trouble being grateful. Nanny told me at 12 that the reason she loved me as a travel companion is that I was never demanding and always grateful. I guess that's what happens when you're the fifth of six kids. These days I say "I don't ask for much, but I don't ask for nothing." I've learned to ask. But I've also remembered to be grateful and undemanding. Demanding won't make anyone do anything. 

I really wish I had someone to go upstairs to bed to. I don't guess I've ever really had that. Even married, that was never a thing. And I fight so hard for that good sleep. I'd give up a little sleep for someone who reaches over to find me every time they move at night. I don't think this is the usual sort of loneliness. Where's that cranky cat who is so much like me? She's always there. What would I do without her?

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