After a summer so long and so full of new sorrow, I have arrived at some end too. “I have outgrown the fear that I only exist when someone is looking at me. It is over, this is the end.” For me, I have outgrown seeking tension in love, in art, and with myself to prove that I can feel something, that I have gravity, that I make ripples in some quiet pond.
“””Then I woke up that morning and I could feel the end of something. For so long my heart had been a felt project I left open. I had been stuffing into it experiences. Throwing anything that came my way because it meant I was not alone. Only recently have I learned what really belongs. All those afternoons of fullness where the light hit the buildings just right. When I was alone in a room and I was not afraid. When I forgot to remember the men who had been mean to me. Nights on the train where I did not revert to sad music because I had outgrown that unhappiness long ago and to return to it would only serve a story I had once believed and no longer did. And it was not that bad things hadn’t happened, I could feel the space in my heart where those things settled, but it was that I did not care so much that they had. One day I woke up and it was over. In my hand I had the making of my grown-up heart. Healing is not the word, but it is close to it. I have been trying to grasp the name of this ending, but the tighter I grab the less there seems to be to hold onto.”””
this is one of those paragraphs that made me stop and reread and go ohhh because that really is it!!! that feeling of having been through shit and coming out the other end and knowing the bad things still happened but still being better.. not listening to sad music anymore — HOLDING THE MAKING OF MY GROWN UP HEART like ohh my god! thank you for sharing!
After a summer so long and so full of new sorrow, I have arrived at some end too. “I have outgrown the fear that I only exist when someone is looking at me. It is over, this is the end.” For me, I have outgrown seeking tension in love, in art, and with myself to prove that I can feel something, that I have gravity, that I make ripples in some quiet pond.
“””Then I woke up that morning and I could feel the end of something. For so long my heart had been a felt project I left open. I had been stuffing into it experiences. Throwing anything that came my way because it meant I was not alone. Only recently have I learned what really belongs. All those afternoons of fullness where the light hit the buildings just right. When I was alone in a room and I was not afraid. When I forgot to remember the men who had been mean to me. Nights on the train where I did not revert to sad music because I had outgrown that unhappiness long ago and to return to it would only serve a story I had once believed and no longer did. And it was not that bad things hadn’t happened, I could feel the space in my heart where those things settled, but it was that I did not care so much that they had. One day I woke up and it was over. In my hand I had the making of my grown-up heart. Healing is not the word, but it is close to it. I have been trying to grasp the name of this ending, but the tighter I grab the less there seems to be to hold onto.”””
this is one of those paragraphs that made me stop and reread and go ohhh because that really is it!!! that feeling of having been through shit and coming out the other end and knowing the bad things still happened but still being better.. not listening to sad music anymore — HOLDING THE MAKING OF MY GROWN UP HEART like ohh my god! thank you for sharing!
This makes me so happy. thank YOU for reading and sharing with me your thoughts. It always means more than I am capable of saying!