Too small of Shoes

I’ve lost some things lately, the short list includes: my running legs and other muscle integrity, a taste for diet sodas, the illusion of security, the physical presence of my best friend, my lover, the little latch on the right pair of my new earrings, a new pair of underwear I bought in the states, and the cap to my traveling toothpaste.

Not to be pessimistic, I’ve gained a few as well:  three widely dispersed pounds, a odorous fear of being lonely, a GPS of wrinkles around my laugh lines, a new knowledge of toxicity, a series of taxing work responsibilities, and an attachment to a heating pad.

Plus basic old ghosts:  a feeling of doing/being less than “I should”, unavailable parents, a belief that I am flawed and intolerable to live with, and nightmares of nuclear wars or apopcolyptic diseases that somehow make real housewives the only survivors capable to repopulate the earth.

Really, I feel empty and dark, and I blame it on circumstances leading to the removal of my primary relationships.  Then I feel more guilty and silly and small that the circumstances have the power to dismantle my sense of okay-ness and vitality.

It’s like I’ve been betrayed. Mostly, by myself?

Sometimes I know that this “relationship hope” is a lie. There’s an underneath searing illusion when we face a break up or a “loss” of some kind; it is the perception that some miracle came along and dove inside your murky core and found a burned out switch and turned you back on.  That somehow the presence of another confirmed your very existence and made you bigger, better.

Jung would say that we all walk around in shoes too small for us. And i think i have a wee bit of a tendency to want to wear shoes that aren’t my proper size. HA! My mom and sister are both size 7s, which I wore until I was being sized for running shoes at age 26 and learned I was a size six.

I feel as if I’ve betrayed myself, sure, for being so saddened by my recent losses. Friends. Strength. Love. But I also I think that light has been burning all along in me. It’s just that their presence gave me permission to fan the flame.

So I also believe that this search for connection, this hunger for sharing and wanting to turn around and say, hello, there, “do you see this? is it there? am I truly here?” —-that desire and yearning is beyond anything animalistic…. that is GOD for me.

I will never replace you. And what is lost, is lost. And I will never fully recover. and i will never love as I have loved you, or felt me, as I felt me with you. and it is not you that gave me that gift. It was me. It was me burning bright, seeing your details, knowing that in a way that they belonged to something sacred not because you are beautiful—-because you are—but because I noticed them.

So sure, there’s that: betrayal. the loss

And then there’s this, the gain: a new, tiny, murky hope. a little flame without a name yet.

***Caveat: I WAS going to tell you about Normandy, which I visited many weeks ago. But I suppose I needed to share this. Stay Tuned

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3 thoughts on “Too small of Shoes

  1. Ooohh K … I don’t know what to say … I can just say that I can very much relate to what you write here. Like you, I feel homeless and I long for belonging but lack the sense of it. I don’t feel lonely too much but I’m very much aware of my singularity … it feels like sitting in a bubble and floating around, and there’s always this thin, almost invisible, but very existent wall between me and the other people around me – this transparent bubble wall that somehow affects my vision so that I feel I see the world in a different way than most others, so they can never really understand what I see. If I’m lucky, they accept that I see different things, and allow me to see this way. The people I love the most all live many 100s or even 1000s of kilometers away from me, detached in terms of place and also time zone. I know they have their own lives and I have my tiny existence of music and studies that keep me alive. I haven’t been in a relationship for years, and while I’m okay with this, I sometimes wish for having another person in my life. At the same time I know I’m not made for tolerating much intimacy (–> Schopenhauer’s porcupine dilemma 😀 ). Ahh, I don’t have a solution for this. I think the only way to go on is to find those few precious, like-minded people and build connections with them that probably may hold for a life time, or at least get me through the next couple of years. I know this doesn’t sound very happy, but being alive often feels for me like a constant breaking of my heart, even if it’s happy feelings because everything is so intense, and intensity is painful at a certain degree. I’m sorry I have burdened you with this on top of your own sorrows, but I just wanted to say that you’re not alone with things like these.

  2. I felt this way too when I’ve parted ways with someone — both empty and full of potential — both at the same time. It isn’t easy to regain your balance after you’ve allowed yourself to get used to leaning on someone. But you are so resilient and wonderful and creative and smart. You do have the extra little seed of something new and wonderful! I am sorry for your losses and happy for your new beginnings. I want you to know I read more often than I comment:) And your writing is amazing!

    • Ok, so this comment got to that little childish part of me that continues to be validated. Thank you for sharing, and being a person behind the scenes that encourages. I am sure you give in more ways than are visibly recognized.

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