To Whom It May Concern

This week has been somewhat of a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. I didn’t even know if I would write, or if I would keep this ever growing list of shit tucked away quietly in my head. This is still in draft form and I’m using my phone for the very first time to compose a blog post so it’s very plausible that this will all be erased and I’ll keep the thoughts to myself.

I turned 42 on Monday the 11th. It‘s always interesting to me how people you haven’t seen in years or ever come out of the wood works to wish you a happy birthday. I will admit to you that I waited all day for one person to wish me a happy birthday, the one person who owns my heart, that happy birthday never came and I can only wonder why after all the evidence I have to support my cause that I continue to wait for the other half of my heart.

If I am being fully honest the scene for 42 was not much different than last year. It was a stretch of time where no contact was the way to settle all the things between us. In fact, that’s been the answer this entire time. We don’t talk, everyone settles, nothing gets resolved between us but we grow as people. So it’s a win I suppose, but yet it feels deeply lonely. I have accepted that my experience and hers share no commonalities. They can’t possibly. If they did, we perhaps wouldn’t be here.

I will share a very intimate thought with you because quite frankly if I am going to write I want to make sure it captures MY experience as eloquently as it can because my tale demands it. It’s a tale that when I no longer roam this earth will remain true.

I am in love with a therapist. Not just any therapist but the one person who truly helped me hone my craft. The one who taught me what it actually meant to hold space for another human being. To love differently, to be willing to be naked in front of another person without shame.

This week I have spent so much time thinking of her. Recalling moments we shared but most importantly I have been thinking about safety. I began a self-care routine about three weeks ago. I needed to do something. Was eating pretty shitty, wasn’t sleeping well, and felt like since I was approaching another trip around the earth, I needed to take better care of myself. I felt like I had neglected my physical body in hopes to heal my broken heart and my fractured mind.

I have felt so deeply sad most days that I wasn’t able to see how much I had given up on myself. The sadness hasn’t subsided but I have begun to pay attention to the one body I have been given.

Working out yields so many physical changes the more you commit to a routine. I have also noticed that while I still don’t feel completely comfortable with myself, I am feeling firmer in places that I hadn’t felt that before. I have always had a love hate relationship with my body so this is always a slippery slope to journey on. Finding a balance between what’s healthy and what’s obsessive has always been a struggle when it comes to how I tend to my body. My body was my offering for so long, it didn’t seem to matter before if I was emotionally or intellectually intelligent as long as I was nice to look at and made my body available for someone else’s pleasure.

That narrative has changed drastically over time especially the last couple years or so. I was taught what my body could do when fully connected to it and your lover and that lesson is invaluable.

As I considered the importance of a firmer body versus a firmer mind though, I got lost in a thought about strength and safety and how the two things go hand in hand or in the case of my story, thigh on thigh.

Our legs are the foundation on which we stand on. They are our base. Anyone who knows me knows I find intelligence sexy. I find an educated woman to be so beautiful, like any woman who can appreciate a female body though, I rather enjoy a nice pair of strong legs. Why do I share this? Well, because I was thinking about how safe I felt intertwined with her. She had the strongest most muscular legs. Particularly her thighs. Muscular, soft, a slight blonde layer of hair on her thighs, perfect. And when wrapped up with mine I felt taken care of, confident, wanted, and I knew that when I couldn’t hold myself up, that she would have the strength for us both, if even for a moment.

Remember what I just shared is my experience and mine alone and that almost makes it like a dream except that it wasn’t. It was my reality. I often wonder if she ever really knew what she meant to me. If she knew how much having her in my life meant to me. Likely not and that makes me sad for us both. Lots of crushed dreams and I’m sure lots of new possibilities but in the end I remain devoted to a ghost.

If I’m being fully honest with myself until I feel resolved in this loss. Until I can truly accept that what I want is distinctly different than what will be I will remain very much stuck. Make no mistake, I function from day to day thrive in the ways I need too. Show up for my kids, my clients, and myself. A part of me feels empty. Feels hopeless. I can’t just move on. I can‘t physically stomach the idea of anyone touching me in the ways I so desperately crave. I will never jump into anything again. I will never settle. I can’t. It‘s like settling for cod when you really know you want high grade sushi. The two are not comparable.

For now I remain humble, sad, and very much aware that in time this will all feel much better.