From the Muck

I hurt.MuckDirtFlowerPurple
I want to crawl up into the fetal position. Lick my wounds. Close the curtains. Wounded.

I can’t write. I want to be poetic and philosophical. Instead I’m in pain.

I drop him at the airport. I’m sad. I will miss him. I also feel relieved.

How can I feel both? There I go again trying to be … profound.

My heart hurts, my heart hurts, my heart hurts.
(While I’m at it, so do my head and my stomach. But they pale in comparison.)

Screaming. Everything my fault. Stabbed in my emotional heart. I still feel the energy. The horrible energy.  It lingers. It clouds up my chest. I hurt.

I hurt.

I want to make it go away. I want the man who was there during our first “fight”. Strong and respectful.
I’m in my head I’m in my head I’m in my head.
I want to blame. I want to be heard. I want to be understood.

My head spins and spins and spins. Why can’t you let it go? Why can’t you forgive?
Why can’t you –
Stop! I want off of this unmerry go round.

I want to shop I want to eat I want to sleep.

I want to cry but I can’t. Then the tears overflow when I don’t want them to. There’s a pile of work to do and I am utterly tapped out. Energetically emotionally physically and spiritually. Crash. Sleep. Cry. Tantrum. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Let me out of this pain. I hate all of the words as I look at them. I hate the feeling in my body. I want this to move somewhere else. I want the honeymoon back.

Screaming silence back again. I hear the sounds of the cars driving by, the clocks ticking. The everything in the nothing.

Tired. I want to sleep.

Nothing to do but be here now …

 

With passion & love,
Lauri

PS – This piece was written over 6 weeks ago. Stay tuned for Through the Fire (the companion piece) in a few days. I’ll share some context as well as the learning and growth that emerged after this writing.

And, of course, if this speaks to you, please share with your friends and loved ones.

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