Alone

26 Jun By

I am alone, driving in my car. I feel the breeze whip my hair as it encompasses me through the open windows. My ears are filled with the music blaring to beats I should have given up long ago, but their upbeat and youthful sounds make me feel energized. I revel in the sensation of driving; the freedom, the independence, and the capabilities it brings to me. I have always loved this time behind the wheel of my car that takes me away from where I was and brings me back to myself.

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I am sitting cross-legged in the computer chair with the cat on my lap. I can hear the toddler’s show playing on the TV in the livingroom and by his silence I can tell he is content. I am warm from the cat that drapes over my legs and comforted by the semi-solitude that engulfs me as I hear the click clack of the keyboard transform my thoughts into words on the screen.

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I am outside. The sun warms my body and my soul and my son’s laughter reaches to the sky with his squeals of delightment. The water sprinkler tries to reach us both but as my son bravely runs through it, I stand to the side watching him and only wetting my feet. The brightness of the day contrasts with my mood of darkness, and as much as I wish to be in this moment, I feel that I am somehow somewhere else.

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The shower runs almost scalding over me, as if somehow it could wash away my thoughts if I just let it run long enough or warm enough. Scented body wash lingers over my skin as I move my hands over my body to wash myself of the dirt, the day, my thoughts.

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It’s quiet here when the sun goes down. The toddler’s breaths are heavy and content. I like it when I see a trace of a smile flicker across his face because then I know he is having a good dream. His peaceful sleeping brings me comfort. I don’t want to move too much because I don’t want to disturb the toddler or the cat that is perched by my feet. I will my body to sleep, but my mind busies itself with unwelcome thoughts and ponderings. It will be many more hours before I will find a restful slumber.

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I am here, surrounded by my life, but I so often feel so very alone.

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Filed Under: Intimate Thoughts, Just Write Tagged With: , ,

Why I Write

8 May By

It’s dark here, as the light of the moon casts shadows over the bed.

Toddler breathing and cat purrs form the soundtrack for this particular scene of my life.

It’s a nightly occurrence, the glow of the moon through white cotton curtains, the steady breath of my beautiful boy, and the contented purrs of a cat beside me.

The clock ticks, warning me of the dangerous hour it is approaching and my impending duties of mommy in the morning that will be made so much harder if I don’t surrender to sleep.

But it is here, always here, that my mind becomes alive.

I remember my past, present and future as they all intertwine into a current conversation lulling me away from rest and restoration and into questionings and ponderings.

Sometimes, I revel in this time. This time of me. Sometimes, I dread it. Often, I feel alone.

One night, in this time of me, I stumbled upon a blog. I read posts by a woman who had struggled with her birth experience. For the very first time, I knew I wasn’t the only woman who felt this way.

I spent that night, and many more, pouring over her words and allowing tears to stream down my face as I motionlessly jumped up and down and silently screamed, “I am not alone.”

So I started writing. Writing thoughts more composed than just scribbles in notebooks or notes in the memo section of my phone. I started putting thoughts on paper and screen instead of just narrating them in my mind. I started to open my heart to the vulnerability and bravery that comes with hitting the publish button.

Sometimes, I write stories about my son. I try to capture memories that I want to hold on to forever. I would like for my son to read those one day. I hope they will mean as much to him as they do to me.

But mostly, I write to sort out the collisions of past, present and future that occur at my most fragile time; when I am in the midst of myself.

One day, maybe someone will read these words and they will mean something to them. Maybe one day I will understand them all myself.

And so I write for my vulnerability, my process of grief and self discovery, and my hope that one day these words resonate with someone so that they might say, “I am not alone.”

I started writing to find myself. I continue writing to find you.

Today, I link up with the lovely Galit and Nicole as they ask the question, “Who do you speak for?”

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Filed Under: Blogging, Intimate Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,