swimming flowers

Pulling over to cry

Happy tears? Sad tears? Hormonal tears? Probably all of the above.

Silently I asked and in silence was answered, all the dots connecting in a state of flow.

My lessons over the last few weeks revolve around the idea of maneuvering past the hard stops I’ve placed along my highway of need.

In the last three weeks I’ve asked three people for different things that in normal circumstances would (and probably should) yield a response of “No” but instead every answer was “Yes”.

After the third yes I got in the car to pick up a kid but had to pull over because it hit me all at once. The thumbs up he gave, the wondering if maybe I was giving myself a thumbs up. The confirmation that none of it has anything to do with me. The grace.

So I’m balling my eyes out and my phone rings which immediately reminds me I missed a call that I scheduled. I wipe away my tears, open my laptop and start the meeting. The guy doesn’t know me but liked the way I answered his questions. He asked if I was psychic, we bantered and before the meeting ended he said working with me was going to be fun and he looked forward to it.

I’ll be the first to say that compliments don’t move me but this was different. He wasn’t using filler words or words that didn’t align with his facial expressions. He actually meant it.

So waterworks again because it’s so difficult for me to understand what people are really saying when so much of the time their words, vocal tones and facial expressions are misaligned and it’s unbelievably easy for me to pick the wrong one to respond to.

It’s rare to come across people that mean exactly what they say so the tears weren’t for him so much as for the unrelenting longing or the sliver of hope i cling to while wandering the halls of this world feeling like an expressionless ghoul, afraid that if one ounce of the silly me, the vulnerable i need to ask like a five year old me, the overly sensitive to words me, the real me – afraid if any of that slips out that I will be abandoned.

So hope delivered itself two days in a row. Hope that many of the hard stops and thinly veiled masks continue to reveal themselves as imaginary. Hope that burdens you with the responsibility of testimony, maybe the lightest of burdens.

You can spot a real smile in the crowd. It’s the one that makes you stop and question if you thought you saw what you saw.

You can spot a real love in the dark. It’s the kind that makes you stop and question if you felt what you felt.

You can spot real yearning in a poem. It’s the kind that makes you stop and question if you heard what you read.

It’s been an incredibly long week and pressure to perform only intensifies. I’m hopeful that the correct silence will guide me away from wandering the halls.

And and and I have a new hobby! Koi ponds! Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. New hobby means these fish will surely not live long but to end on a positive note, I will ensure that while they’re alive they have the best life an amateur koi pond builder can provide.