Vibrate

 Staring up at the rocky cliff, I wonder why I jumped in the first place. I could see how far down it was and that I might not survive it. I landed. I was broken. I might still be. I would crawl a little when I could. Mostly, I inched and then stopped. I felt like I was dying. Like the air had left my body. My lungs were empty. But still, my heart would race. My nails were filled with dirt, grit, moss. I smelled petrichor over and over. The cold ground was frozen. So was I. waiting for so long to just feel ground beneath my feet instead of pointed rocks jutting into my arms, my legs, in between my toes. I would rest my head and come up bleeding. One day, I started clearing them. Sweeping the dried thorns, the needle sharp points, my fingers bled, knowing they could heal tomorrow. Years went by like this. I laid in it. I was hurt by it. I healed from it. I cleared my path. I started making my way back up. Eventually, I could get up and stand. What was once broken felt like heaven. The pain was subsiding and I could walk again. I moved my body until I could run. I did for a time. But, then I slowed down. I realized, what's the rush? I took my time. I started to notice the beauty I was unable to see before. What was dirt and grime became soil and quartz. I could make out small veins of minerals in the rocks. They were smoother. My body was stronger from all the work. The work became easier as the lovely world before me blossomed. I did, too. I realized I could wander all I wanted. I could stop and watch a bee at work in a flower. The warmth radiated from the life around me. The sweet smell of spring in the breeze. I could lay in the sun with my eyes closed and feel the rays make freckles on my nose. I became happy again. Maybe not elated, as I used to be. I didn't get so extinguished, either. I was mild. Mild felt good. It feels good. I settled down. I built a life. I felt free to do as I wanted. I enjoyed the quiet. The clean smell on the breeze. The peace I felt was deep. I knew, without a doubt, what I deserved. What I wanted and what I could get. 

There were times when I would remember what it was like, the good parts. The parts when I felt the sunshine through my heart and I would explode in passion. I missed sharing that with someone. I would get lonesome. A pinch in my heart that started to wonder if I really did deserve anything more. Did I? I came to terms with this feeling. Knowing I needed more. Deserved more. I should have more. It wasn't an emptiness like I had felt before. Now, I felt whole. I felt like everything was in its place. I wasn't always perfect, but I forgave myself for thinking that wherever I am, whatever I do, whomever I am with, does not define me as anything other than perfect. Perfect is just where I am right now. I didn't know how I knew this, but the thought of jump was perfect, too. Bleeding out over the rocks and staring up at where I once was... that, too, was perfect. It was exactly where I was and what I was able to give. What I brought to the table. It was everything. The starting over was perfect. I made peace here, too. I could see where I jumped and subsequently fell from and where I landed. I could see up and down. I was just around. Just here on some mild level. Not good. Not bad. Just here. 

But, I knew there was more. There had to be more, right? I started to realize that I was more. That I could be more. The perfume in the air made me look up. I looked around me and I saw what I once was in younger women. I was reminded of what I once was when I saw where they needed to work on their self-love. On their passions. On what it meant to be a good person. A good friend. To feel perfect, even when it wasn't everyone's version of perfection. Not mine. Not theirs. But, it was perfectly okay to be there at that point. In that moment, they were. Were you? Yes. I always was. And I will continue to be. Until there is no more of me left. 

I gave up on thinking I needed to make room. I had hoped. But, I wasn't putting in any effort to try to make room. Well, maybe. Just a smidge. I felt like I was able to hold my ground. My own. To say, this is what I want and need and I don't need less than this. I swept up some dust. I moved things around. I got rid of things. I brought in new things. The slight tinge of plastic in my personal space before it became a nothing smell. The scent of healing, eventually. Untraceable because it surrounded me. And then, I took a chance. I decided to just try. To say, yes. When, I didn't know if it was a good idea or not. I didn't have a reason not to say yes. That was mainly the reason. I was clear on what I wanted. I want this. I want more. I want a life that leads to me back up on a hill. A meadow with flowers and sunlight and love and imperfections and perfectly okay everyday life stuff. Somewhere I can see everyday dynamics working cohesively. My family and my friends and my hobbies and interests and my life. All of it. I want all of it. I want it to be a swirl of goodness. A mild and beautiful world. 

Don't get me wrong. Mild doesn't mean boring. Mild doesn't mean devoid of feelings. Mild means no drama. No fighting. Or just, healthy fighting. Independence. But, the healthy kind. Healthy love. Expanding, growing, learning, teaching, and palatable. Delicious life. Mild means, I have the option of adding more spice. If it's too spicy, I can't turn it down. It will burn me up and consume me. I don't want that. But, I do want to feel wanted. Healthy spice. Mild enough to taste every flavor. Every ingredient. To moan into the safety of knowing what it all is as individual pieces and as a whole. I want to be needed. Not a needy situation. Mildly needed. Like I matter to someone and I have no doubts about it. I don't need to ask, but if I do ask, I get the answer. I can confirm that there is safety. That I am safe. I am safe in my body. In my mind. In my relationships. I need it. I deserve it. I desire it. Safe. 

Then I smell the iron. I get a pinch in my heart. A knot of two ends that I didn't know came with saying yes. How could I know? I knew. It feels like the end. I can't see the end, it's a mirage. It's faded right there. I can't quite make it out. The end is there, maybe I need to just say goodbye. The end might not be so clear, because I never knew how to heal it like this before. I need to stop the hurt. The fracture. Refrain from it breaking me, again. I don't think I will ever be that broken. I know this won't break me the same way. It just feels like failure. Like I tried and I failed. I know I didn't. My heart pinches. I know I was good. I did everything naturally. I always wanted to feel like I tried my best. Mildly. A healthy try. 

I hope I don't find out how broken I can be, again. I feel as though the worst part of my life has happened. That I can only go up from that feeling. The feeling of rotting away into nothing and feeling everything too much that I just didn't want to exist anymore. I don't feel that way anymore and I have been de-sensitized from ever feeling it again. It's a safe space to know that I can never be hurt that bad ever again. I already lived through the worst pains. I'll be okay. I know I will. I already am okay. Still, my heart gets a pinch and I know what I need to do and I linger in it. I wonder if I can do it. Have the strength to be the one to let the elephant out of the room. That this isn't going anywhere. That I am going to be alone again. That this is hard, but not as hard as I have had before. I have been fucked so hard before. Painfully fucking hard. This is soft at best. Maybe sometimes it feels a little hard, never rock hard. Never as hard as I have had it before. 

But, it is comfortable to just stay here. To linger. To allow the elephant to stand in its corner. I can turn my back on it and see that mild life. I can imagine it would be good. Just pretend that this is still the space we can be in until someone makes a decision. But, the decision has already been made. We can see out the window and I don't know if we see the same thing. I won't know until I open the door. I have my hand on the knob and it turns to play dough. It won't harden at my touch. Do I have the right door? I reach out and the space gets bigger. I know that the length of the arm gets longer as I stand here trying to push into it. To be closer. The need to be closer makes the arm stretch. So I stopped trying. The arm shortened, but the elephant got bigger. I will run out of air at some point. No matter what, my hand is on the doorknob. The one to stay. The one to go. The one that has the beginning. The one that is the end. It always is. I am always at the beginning of love and the end of love. One foot in it, one foot out. Stuck in the middle.

I am always at the beginning of the end. I am always at the end of the beginning. I always start over and over and over again. It's a curse to always feel in a loop. A loop I cannot control. So, I don't try to control it. I allow it to cycle. I do what I can. What I must. What I want to do. I think and think and think. I ruminate in the feelings. I come to the conclusion that I may still be a little broken in my heart. The desire to open up, blossom fully, reach my petals out and accept the possibility that it will mean my petals will fall. They will. Then, I go to seed, and start again and again and again. Is it just me? Does anyone else feel this feeling? Of desolation? Of a tender heart bleeding? Of wishing that someone would stop the wound? Someone to stop it? No. Of course not. This is not a fairy tale. No prince will come to save me. No king.

It's just me. I am the only one to stop it. I am the one with a wad of linen soaked in alcohol, dabbing it up. Putting pressure on it. Crying out for it to heal faster. But, I can't. I can't and it won't. I feel the pinch and the blood seeps out and I weep. I cry out in passion. Then in anguish. I cry out in injustice. In panic. In pain. The echoes are cleansing. I hear myself. I hear my own sorrow and I help myself heal. I am here, honey. It's okay. Everything will be okay. You are strong. You are lovely. You have a kind heart. You will be able to give it out again, someday. For now, just give it to yourself. So I give it to myself. I love myself. I know myself better than anyone else. More than any arrogant fool has ever assumed to know me. I know what I like. What I want. One day I will get it. It's not today. Goodness, no. Not today. I don't know when. I don't know how. I don't know from whom. Sometimes, it's a small gesture. A friend with open arms. Family that accepts my help. A reply when I inquire. My heart pinches. It will be okay, heart. You can handle this. You can heal from this. You are strong. I Bleed. Then, I Break. No, I build.

I remove anything I don't need. I open up big, black voids and stuff anything that I don't need inside. Goodbye, stuff. Bye, whatever I was holding onto. I take it outside. I put it in a pile. It is gone from my space. From my life. There is space now. I smell that free feeling. The petrichor after a rain. I cleansed my space and now I have room to breathe. To feel. To understand. To build. I am not ready to do it all, not yet. No, not today. But, I did more than I did before. I can do more tomorrow. Other days. I can make room. Make room for my life. For my new beginning. For someone else to share my space with me. For their new beginning, too. Whomever it may be. My heart pinches. I know. I know, honey. It's scary. I know you are scared. It's going to be okay. You are strong. You were always strong. You just didn't know it. 

I am strong. I have always been strong. I just didn't know that my heart was always too big. Bigger than anyone could see. Could anticipate. They couldn't help me grow because my heart was already bigger than their heart. Their capacity was too small for me and my big heart. I had a box around it. Around my love. Around myself. I kept trying to grow and it hurt. It hurt to grow. To be pinched. To be smushed into a box that I didn't want in the first place. I feel the ribbon around my heart and it's pinching me. I need to untie it. To set myself free. To allow myself to expand. To be what I need to be. What I always knew would be clear one day.  To feel like I can be strong. To be strong. Feel strong. Become Strength. To know I am, and always was, strong. I always will be strong. My big heart deserves to know it. To feel it. To vibrate with it. In and out and all around me. To send it out and get it back, too. Oh, if I can get it back like I send it out. That would be just mild. Just perfectly mild.