Week 14/52: I’m Afraid

Hello, Subscriber First Name!

This is what I would write on a dating profile if there wasn’t a ridiculously short character limit:

Let’s get this out of the way quickly… 

Although I may not seem it, I can be ridiculously disorganized. 

I have the most wonderful thought pop into my head midway through preparing breakfast and then before I know it, things are too cold, too burnt, or too soggy to consume. 

I am ridiculous and playful, serious, and have also been described as stoic (much to my own consternation). I love words and their meanings, the depth and power of finding just the right word to describe something feels somewhat magical to me. I read way too many books at once. 

I get so consumed by all the things I would like to do I lose sight of the things I NEED to do,  like clean out my car or clean out the lint catcher in the dryer or clear off all the dumb screenshots from my desktop. Should I have a folder just for memes?? 

All this to say, I am not your fantasy (no one is).

I am an impossibly frustrating amalgamation of childhood experiences and trauma, therapy, books, poetry, personality, pizza, and love. 

As I write this I am realizing how deeply I love and care for myself. 

I am realizing how passionate I am and I know that even if all of this goes to shit I am actually (really) okay alone.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love, how I can accept my failures, and how I can have a rational faith for what could come my way, but I feel afraid. 

I’m afraid that my divorce has stripped away my ability to be in a committed relationship, that my cynical side will always squint it’s eyes at what is on the horizon. 

I am afraid that the possibility for a life-long commitment is completely out of reach because of this cynicism. That I’ll flit and flow from one place to the next because I am afraid of being held back or held onto or just simply held.

So I look to the sunrise knowing it will set and then I look to the spring knowing it will shift to summer and then fall, Christmas comes and goes, and then the new year barrels back into view. 

And I find sanctuary in the uncertainty, knowing everything is actually a circle, a cycle, that the rotation, the round nature of our lives is actually a magical element of what it means to be human. 

But I am still afraid I won’t know what to do if I stumble across the real thing. That instead of simply gazing at the beauty of the magical, colorful creature before me, I’ll want to pin it to paper so that I may examine it from a distance and not feel the warmth around me as I watch it flit across my view in the summer sun.

I feel a desire to be known, to be in that raw, real, open space with someone. But I do not wish to feel the piercing of the needle as I am pressed closely to the page, my genus and species written carefully below, the scent of formaldehyde wafting across my space. 

Is it possible to be observed and held, but not held captive? To be safe and loved and still free? 

Swipe right!

hahahah ahhhh

Love to you all,

Amy