Looking out for #1

The last year has been… hard. The last few weeks… have reminded me that sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall into place.

New client this morning, local 360 lunch and shopping for tea and sexkitten pretties with David, currently sipping sangria while awaiting a prescreening of Pacific Rim (mech vs. godzilla) action, which I was invited to by Mr. Neilhimself, who agreed to sign the copy of “Ocean..” I bought today for a friend. Smiling? Oh yes. – Facebook, July 4 2013. I caught the fireworks from the deck of a 27th floor highrise that night, too.

I am pleased to have the opportunity to write through a lens of inherently carefree positivity, for what seems like quite a change from my end.

The theme among those who share my journey is that of an “it’s about time” sort of bent, with some “ride the wave as long as you can because you deserve it” thrown in for good measure.

I agree. It is rare for my life to have this kind of ease and excitement to it, and I have committed to myself that I will unabashedly ride this wave for as long as I can.

The whole of my trip, including connecting profoundly and nearly seamlessly with my once-distant-now-close friends Per and Ingrid in Stockholm, and returning to Seattle (despite my reluctance to return to America) to the immense validation and opportunity I’ve experienced in the last week are taking their wonderful toll.

Even for the rough parts, including much of my time in New York where I was gritty, sick, depressed and fucking working while on vacation, bared impressive fruit in their opportunities to test the bounds of my courage and grace under fire. Which, I guess I was up for, this time.

A few important arrangements that were not working well in my life have since been addressed (skillfully, may I add – it doesn’t always happen that way) because of the time I had to be with myself and figure out what was going on, even if the experiences themselves were somewhat agonizing.

For the time being, it seems as though the floodgates I normally keep closed to this kind of feeling for whatever reasons (in order to focus on what I consider to be the important work in my life? Guilt? Self harm? Lack of space? Ignorance?) are open.

I am giddy and goofy and affected and expansive. I am thinking of others and able to reach out and help more. I am not worried about money. I am bathing myself in the affections of the wonderful men in my life, treating myself and allowing others to treat me, eating good food, cooking, snuggling my cat, sleeping in, enjoying my work, and playing.

Many thanks to Neil Gaiman for choosing to publicly attest to his excellent taste in massage practitioners ;)

Inside, I am wearing a sparkly tiara. A black one.

There is light shining in through cracks I’ve apparently been urgently stuffing dirty oily rags into for as long as the backscroll goes. The light from these spaces is illuminating the floating dust in the air, challenging my eyes, and killing bacteria.

All of the people in my head are on vacation, smiling, grazing, laying in the grass, resting, when I look to them. In comfort and relief, they are sighing. Sometimes, I cry a little. It is good.

I am finally figuring out how I want the key of my relationship map to look. Like, how I REALLY want it to look, in reality, not in some kind of socially perpetuated soulmate fantasy my childhood self created an eon ago. And I can see better why I have kept making the same mistakes, letting myself so often be drawn into vortex after vortex, letting them get in my way.

Though some of the changes I’ve made in my life, like releasing my most treasured lover from any form of fidelity to me, are scary, the part of me that yearns for a sense of security that I never find in partnerships is gaining some perspective about the definition of insanity.

Whether I manage to blackbox my way into doing it again, for now I am keenly aware that I have spent quite long enough martyring myself for my imperfections in relationships.

Why must I only be either the perfect smothered partner with someone, or hopelessly alone? Why is part of me so violently convinced of that? Some day, I will know the answer to that question, I am sure – for now, I am satisfied that this part of me is no longer captaining my emotional ship.

Currently, for whatever reasons I came to this place in my life, I am for myself, wholeheartedly, because I completely want to be, not because I am punishing, running, or protecting myself from the sickening vulnerability of being loved. Due to finding my place in that, I am also finding myself more open to the significance of others in my life than I have been in a very long time, and as such my relationships are blossoming again.

It seems I got precisely what I needed from my travels. Good reflections, revelations, time off, lots of food, the right kind of solitude, an appreciation of just how wide and far reaching my options are, and an equal amount of appreciation for my capacity to take any number of them by the balls and own the living fuck out of it.

While on vacation this time, I looked back to my takeaway from my big solo road trip in 2011, and was surprised to see that though I had forgotten I’d written a wishlist at all, I have made great strides in addressing all the wants and lacks I had discovered – most notably figuring out the Tiny House thing, and changing my perspective on a couple aspects of my life, like how much time to give myself between commitments in a given day.

This trip, I came home knowing how I would shift things and why my proposed changes, even with uncertain outcomes, would work – and my timing was perfect this year, returning just as the sun decided to come out. For me, of course. Duh. :P

So. This is what it’s like facing the world when *I* am taken care of already.

I see…

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