This time of year is tough for me.
Maybe it’s tough for you, too.
It’s strange because it represents a lot of things for me.
December marks my birthday which always makes me sit in some feelings that range from pure bliss to absolute heartbreak. Not that I’m so sad about it, but I do miss the years spent with people I don’t see anymore.
Things are forever moving forward — and while that’s something I usually praise, I also mourn for the times and people that I have lost.
My mind is stretched thin,
and I’m ultra aware of the heart beating in my chest.
I am aware of the clock that is ticking — that’s telling me that one day, I will have to do something different with my life. I wish cooking wasn’t so stressful. I wish running a business didn’t hold such a heavy weight. I wish we were all nicer to one another.
But again, I come back to the heart beating in my chest.
Give me a moment to be vulnerable with you and I crave telling you what you mean to me. For some reason, I think it’s very important for things to be raw, mostly unfiltered. I know sitting on feelings is smart, too. But damnit if I’m not always thinking about how short our time is on this world and how I already know that I wish I could’ve told people how much they’ve meant to me.
This time of the year is terribly wild.
You can sense the stress and anxiety — in the merging of car lanes and ideas and patience.
(all of which I get cut off.)
There are so many people I want to tell that they’re beautiful.
I want them to know that their pain wears heavy on my shoulders and I am okay with it.
My friends, who have lost their friends and kids and their parents, I want to grab on to them and pull them in like some kind of strong gravity. And I want them to know that pain fades but it doesn’t disappear — that those moments when you stare into the distance and remember are the closest you are to that person again. I want to tell you how much my heart aches for you.
It makes want to make you laugh.
It makes me want to make you a grilled cheese with expensive champagne.
All of these things I want to do for you.
And sometimes I can.
This season is kind of selfish. And I am selfish with myself. I wish I could give more of myself but at the end of the day, I am all that I have under my roof. I take great care of making sure I can be enough for you, even though I’m not sure if that’s possible.
I am so used to being alone, I am often frightened at how easy it is to be okay with it. Of course there are things I miss. The intimacy. The memory. The orchestrated chaos. Among other things.
You have this heart, you see?
and it’s there beating in your chest for one thing or another. Remember it beats for you first. Take care of that thought, please.
And take care of the things your heart needs.
Remember to breath from your belly and to loosen your shoulders from time to time. Stretch your jaw muscles and learn to love on your rolls. You know which rolls I’m talking about. Most people really aren’t looking at you like that anyways.
breathe (and close your eyes.)
you are absolutely worth every good thing,
because you’re still here,
and you’re still moving forward into the Great Mystery.
(hold on to it.)