the unbearable lightness of being

YIP 365.262: vantage point

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
-Stephen King

I’ve debated whether or not to write this post. I try to keep this space fairly happy but you know sometimes life isn’t all great restaurants, good food, and beautiful things. Sometimes bits of the past come roaring back when you least expect it and the best you can do is hold your ground and reach out for help when you need it. I don’t know how to account for or describe the last three weeks. It sort of felt like an interview for a job I didn’t know I was interviewing for, a job I wasn’t sure I wanted, and a job that I now know I didn’t get. It’s hard to know what you’ll get when you open up to people, how they’ll respond when you share your greatest hopes and dreams, your deepest fears, and everything in between. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn’t. The sadness and disappointment of the past month has almost nothing to do with the person who passed in and out of my life, who didn’t measure up. He was just the catalyst. Rather, it has to do with the everything that came before that and how I didn’t measure up to the person that I thought I was.

I’m really glad I took some gambles this month. They didn’t quite work out how I’d hoped they would but in the process I kicked up the mental dust and learned a lot about myself. I shed a whole bunch of crap and I feel lighter than I have in months.

If you’re here. If you’re still reading this, thank you. Whether you know me in “real life” or not or you’re just dropping by, thank you for taking an interest in my little corner of the universe.


13 responses to “the unbearable lightness of being

  1. Let’s get a drink soon. xoxo

  2. Even those of us who are “virtual life” friends care and can often be good listeners! Don’t forget that spring is right around the corner — the perfect time for rebirth and new beginnings!

  3. What I think is wonderful about your post is that you seem to have thought about your circumstance and let yourself feel what ever it is that made you who you are today at this moment. Getting rid of the crap is a good thing.

  4. Hugs to you. Feel free to share. I am like you and tend to keep my blog a happy place. But some times we do need to have some place to say what we want.

  5. I’ve been reading your blog for months now, and I am finally delurking to say kudos to you for taking the recent gambles. I’m glad that you got rid of some crap and are feeling better. I hope things look up for you soon!

  6. this is your personal space to say whatever is on your mind, the good & the bad, that’s what make your blog human. cheer up, girl. we’ll chat & chew soon!

  7. Wow. A heckuva introduction. Not sure how I stumbled here, but I’m duly impressed. And will be back. A fine space, this.

  8. great post

  9. sending you big hugs. and i’m glad that it ended in clearing the dust, and lightness… that bit is definitely good. (though it sucks that sometimes it takes the worst heartache to get there.) xox

  10. what a brave post — i know this feeling.

    to take something positive away from a difficult experience is, at times, the only consolation we have. hang in there.

  11. Not sure what to offer, but want to let you know I’m reading and will continue to do so. for the crafting, the eating, the cooking, the beauty and most especially for the honesty.

    best to you,

  12. Pingback: just smile all the time « rhymes with spoon

  13. Pingback: the dawn is a thousand miles away | rhymes with spoon

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