I swear there is music in my dreams. I woke up with “Me & Bobby McGee” stuck in my head. I was singing it (silently, as to not kill the goodness of the early morning), when I came to the line, “I’d trade all my tomorrows for one single yesterday” when I realized that was the part stuck in my head. And so instead of just keep going, I over analyzed it. Hey, it’s what I do!

First off, when I actually asked myself if I would trade any of my tomorrows for a yesterday the answer was a firm NO WAY. This isn’t to say I couldn’t go back to a few days in history and revise my behavior, but I wouldn’t go back and have them in lieu of whatever goodness may be ahead of me. And that’s how I knew I was healing. Maybe not healed, but healing. It’s in progress. It’s how I know I’m shaking the pain of 2014 off. 

I realize I have played the victim of life. I am now accepting full responsibility for everything that has happened and how I felt about it. I wouldn’t give the man that devastated me one more minute of my life. [Not that he would want it–he’s happily married for a third time (the complete irony of that statement doesn’t escape me) (and, oops, a small dig slipped in).] But it isn’t about him, loss of a six figure income, losing my Chloe, or any of the other heartache that came along. It’s about how I choose to hold onto the pain and also release it. In fact, I’m getting to where I thank the Lord for all the change and presumed hardships because I refuse to be reduced by it. 

For a long time it made me angry and changed a lot inside me. Slowly perhaps, but a shift occurred and not always for the best. I have a lot of work still left to do, but I think I see some progress and I am quite satisfied with the direction I am going. 

Yesterday, I cried. I posted about my greatest fear. That’s significant, but it’s only part of what’s going on with me right now. I’m using that material and pain as the catalyst to write a book. Now, as much as I’d love to say I sit down everyday and bust out a chapter, the reality is that I’m walking through a transition in life and the pieces are still being revealed. A paragraph or two may develop each day. The sequence of how it ultimately ends up in the final presentation are a mystery to me. 

I’m going with the flow. I spend everyday at work going 90 mph with no peace and no organization. It’s good to come home to the opposite but it also helps me learn to just go with whatever comes out in my writing. Sometimes it’s messy and pointless (maybe), other days it is poignant. I’m giving myself a break on this and just doing what delights my soul in the moment. Whatever brings relief.

Today, I realized my greatest fear is all in my head. The thing that brought me to tears last night, is a work of fiction. It’s not anything tangible. Could it happen? Sure. In this world where strange, mind-blowing events transpire daily, it is possible that I could run into the person who broke my heart. But to remain broken is my choice. Part of the reason I am writing is to heal old wounds. And today I realize it isn’t that person, it’s what he symbolizes. Life changed in all areas for me, starting with a broken heart. In fact, there are few things that remain the same since then: my address, my closest friends…that’s about it off the top of my head. 

Though I wept yesterday wondering if it would ever happen, truth is, I wonder if I will ever love someone again. Was he the last great romance of my life? But even that bit of what seemed magical and divine came crashing down. So it wasn’t all that my heart and mind thought it was anyway. It’s just a piece of my story. One that’s being told piece by piece and surely the future holds something better…. 

My co-author. 

I’m scared of heights.  I’d rather not encounter a snake or a bear.  I don’t play with fire, I wear my seatbelt, and I am pretty sure I could use deep breathing exercises to talk myself through a very small, enclosed space.  So it’s funny to sit back and think that the one fear that really petrifies me to the bone, is a ghost.  Not the dead kind, but the living kind.  The kind from the past and that comes back to haunt.  Seeing your face again is my greatest fear.  I’d rather take my chances with the bear or the cramped space.  My biggest fear is that the minute I let my guard down, I’ll turn around and bump into you.  And Mrs. You.  And possibly by now, Baby You.  I can barely tolerate the thought of it.  And sometimes, after a long day with sore feet and guilt from potato chips weighing on my conscious, I weep at the thought.

Isn’t it ironic how you broke my heart all the way from Italy and the universe thought it would be funny to station you three hours away in Florida? Just a hop and a skip away.  I hope you love Florida.  I hope it’s paradise and you (and Mrs. You) never leave its borders.  I know–because we talked day in and day out for months and months–that you used to come here when you were in Alabama.  I fear I’ll be out with friends having a rip roaring good time and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Then, when I’m walking down a hall alone with my defenses down and a smile on my face, you’ll come walking towards me.  I don’t know what I would do.  I’m fairly certain I could remain standing, although I may casually run a finger along the wall to steady myself.  I don’t know if I would freeze or just stare hard and walk past you. I don’t know if I could breathe until you had passed.  I think not.  When I picture this horror in my mind, I don’t feel any air getting to me.   

And in my mind, the worst thing you could ever do would be weasel your way into my life a third time.  It was one thing to break my heart in 1997.  We were young and dumb.  But what happened in 2014?  No, that was different.  That was…cold.  And heartless.  Careless.  You have no idea how hard it was to keep going after that.  The devastation was fresh when, like dominos, everything else started falling apart.  Life came undone.  I survived.  But of all the absolute fucking bullshit that next year and a half was, the scar that still remains most sensitive is you.  My dad, the dog, the job…I got through it.  It was not expected, but it was in the realm of possibility.  You crushing my heart and letting the all communication cease with 5,000 miles between us?  After I’d devoted myself to you while you were in Afghanistan and rushed off to Italy to see you as soon as you got out of a war zone?  You just left me hanging here?!  

No, of all the fears and monsters and demons this world has to offer, I’d pick all of them over you.  Maybe you aren’t a bad guy, but you’re my biggest fear.