Marriage

 I did it again.  I went down the marriage rabbit hole, but this time, I’m not fighting alone.  I’m not doing it by myself.  I have a partner, a friend, a confidante.  I listen.  He listens.  We share.

But I miss the beginning.  The moments you were thrilled and nervous and excited to see each other.  Where the anticipation of a kiss sent every nerve ending ablaze and the butterflies in your stomach had the most amazing dance of colours and movements in your stomach.  The eagerness to be held by one another.  It didn’t matter what you were doing…just as long as it was together.

4 years later.  The love is still there.  It’s grown stronger.  It’s different.  You’re both different.  It’s been one hell of a battle over the last 4 years.  You’ve suffered financial hits, friendships lost over stupidity (your name is Michelle…I will not forget or forgive) job losses, some by interference of others, some by choice.  You have suffered through so much sickness and hospital visits.  You had a baby together.  You still live in the basement of his parents house but you’ve taken over and made it beautiful…to the best that you can.

As the wife, I suffer your frustration.  I suffer your sadness.  I suffer.  I choose to.  Not that I enjoy it, but it’s different with you.  It’s not a burden.  It’s a choice.  I choose to support you, because for once in my life…I feel valued and appreciated.  Wanted.  Loved.  Needed.

I wish there was more though.  Isn’t that awful?  I want the physicality of our bodies uniting, and not just in sleep. I miss our carefree days.  Our honeymoon.  Our passion.  It’s gone.  It’s been gone for over a year.  Kissing two.  I’m changing.  Physically.  Not by choice.  I just want to be loved in this body one more time before it’s filled with plastic and saline and parts are irrevocably removed forever.  Because this is not a choice for me.  It’s a demand.  

4 years.  I just want to be loved physically again before and it all changes.  But that is life.  Change is inevitable.  I’m pushing forward.  I’m prepared for disappointment.  Because I’m selfish.  I admit it.  And I don’t care.  My body. My husband.  My want.  Mine.  

I regret nothing.

Commitment

It’s like my inner darkness outside.  I lay here in my bed contemplating where the my own darkness ends, and the night darkness begins.  They blend well together.  Almost like a relationship.
As I lay here, the word commitment begins to flow in a soft halo behind my eye lids. Commitment.  Commitment.  Commitment.
A younger, naive part of me believes that word means a companionship, or relationship.  Maybe even “Marriage”.  That younger part of me is a strong argument for that kind of understanding.  Simplistic.  Innocent.  Uneducated.
The older me, the one who has learned the beauty and ugliness of commitment, has found another path.  Another understanding.  A more grounded thinking of that word.
I have learned to be committed to...me.
My commitment is to me myself and I.
I commit to being a better version of myself today than I was yesterday, or a week ago; or even a lifetime ago.
I commit to understanding there is always another option, and YES!  Failure is totally acceptable and is at some points, the only option.
I commit to learning and processing every mistake, missed opportunity, FAILURE.
I commit to knowing I am perfectly imperfect and I have time to improve.
I commit to grow continually.  To challenge myself; to be more than even I think I can be.
I commit to being softer, but still fierce.
I commit to try to be unapologetic, to stand strong against all the word winds  that disagree and contradict.
I commit to knowing that being alone, isn’t a bad thing, or the end of the world.
I commit to love myself, and others.
I commit to The Golden Rule.
I commit to not let other hold me back from my dreams, my goals, wishes and secrets.

Commitment.  To thine own self, be true.

Whatever comes next, I’m committed.

Time...

Time is a silly, wonderous thing.

It passes by, silent, observant in it’s moment.  Another second, poof.  Gone.  Did you notice?
Do you feel it ticking?  How unique that chime must be.  Time must have it’s own sound.  Incomprehensible to man.  It must have it’s own touch, smell and taste.
Time must be elusive.

And yet...

Time grants us the beauty of growth.  The impossibleness of teaching patience.  It allows us to feel it stop; just for a second.  It grants us a second.  Think about that.  If I saw you, time would give me one second to memorize you, to engrain you into my mind.  To allow you to exist in my realm of reality.

What a gift  to process.  Time allowed me to wait to find you and vice versa.  Time allowed me to remember your flawed smile, your twinkle; and time gave me years to get to know you.
You may be one, or you may have been many.  That is my secret.

The best thing about time, is how it allows you to heal.  To remember, to mourn and grieve.  To smile and laugh.  To be angry.  To cry.  Time allowed us to be us; together and apart.  I have memories upon memories of the good, the bad, the indifferent.

Time is no man’s friend.  It only allows for so much to be done in a finite moment. It moves on relentlessly as we object to it’s progression.  We yearn for longer moments, for things to stay the way they are.  Time is cruel in its advancement.  There is the lesson.

We cannot stop the tides of time, nor change them.  We can accept and realize what we truly are, and what time is.
Time is magic.

Don’t waste the precious little we have.  I won’t.

Incoherent thought process

I sit here, contemplating the lessons of today, and I wonder what our conversations would be like.  Would you argue your point?  Would you ask me more imploring questions, or would you tell me not to worry my pretty little head about things.
I wonder what kind of man you are.  I wonder if you can be supportive and yet challenging.  Can you fight fair?  Will you allow me to always be right, and not point out when I admit my own faults?
Will you be a loving dad; are you a dad?
I have a list, and it will have to wait when I can write things down in a coherent matter.  Time is not my friend and I live my life in extreme fast forward lately.  But I'll sleep wondering many wonders and pray I don't fail my test tomorrow.
We have a lot more to talk about you and I.