I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
my soul has a hole
chest cavity cracked open
someday maybe i’ll be ok
but always haunted by a scar shaped like you
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
::not alone yet but already lonely::
I don’t have a therapist, therefore I blog. So if you didn’t sign up for a little emotional roller-coaster, you should probably stop reading now.
I am so not ready for what is about to happen. James is leaving so much sooner than I had pictured in my mind and I just found out tonight that he isn’t coming home for a couple of days before leaving for Afghanistan. I knew there was a chance that he wouldn’t but just like my hopes that he would be here to spend Thanksgiving with me, I was kind of counting on those couple of days as a recharge and to know that in just a couple of weeks I have to say goodbye for months is really killing me on the inside.
Now this is something that I knew I would just learn the realities of sooner or later by marrying James as an airman but I don’t think I was prepared for him to be so happy about leaving. I am trying so hard to be supportive of James and I want to be excited for him, because he really is ready and wants to leave. He is excited for a change and for the experience and I realize that’s a good thing and that so much good could come from this time but then there’s the whole other side of me that takes over and is scared to death of what 7 months apart can do to a relationship. A relationship I work very hard at. ugh. It’s so heartbreaking for me to think about being away from him for so long.
So I’ve been a girl. I realize that crying doesn’t change the situation but every time he mentions leaving tears just start rolling down my face. I can feel my eyes starting to water and he either doesn’t notice or is trying to ignore them so I wipe them away and try and keep my voice strong. And this is a couple of weeks out…I can’t imagine what I’m going to be like when he leaves.
The girl part of me can’t help but be a little frustrated that he isn’t crying with me though. I know “crying” is too much to ask…but I haven’t seen one ounce of sadness over the fact that he won’t see me for 7 months. This must just be a man thing. I don’t understand it. And maybe I’m imagining it…but it’s not helping my fears.