I have been spending time saving caterpillars lately. I see them on my morning walks where I currently am, in Maine. I see them crossing the road or suspended from a branch on a thread of silk, scooching themselves up or down (hard to tell which).
I worry for them. I worry they will be squished or smacked by a passing car, and so I pick up leaves and branches and carefully scoop them up and move them to safety off the roadway.
I feel better after this, convinced I’ve saved each caterpillar from humanity’s vehicular impact. I try not to think of other, unknown deaths that await where I leave them, like birds or bears or the branch falling from that tree.
How do people with children let their small humans go out into the world, knowing so very many things could kill them?
Be truthful, gentle, and fearless. - Gandhi
This month, I took some time off from work and life. I have been walking a lot and sleeping a lot and eating a lot of gelato, in Maine, where I’m visiting my best friend and her family and their gelato shop. I took time off because I needed to get away from NYC, clear my head, and put all of my past chapters behind me. I needed time and space to allow myself to admit what I really want, and to make room for it by letting go.
What I want: Beyond general health and a life full of joyful moments, I want to be in love (again, forever). I want to create a home and a life with a man I love. I want to cook and clean and watch TV with this man, and do all sorts of regular life things, and to follow him to the ends of the earth if I have to, as long as I can breathe his air and fall asleep with his kisses.
I have been in love before, so many times. Love is who I am and what I do. I love. But before, I have loved desperately, and determined-ly, and fiercely, and immaturely, even when the love (or the lover) was so very wrong.
This next man, I want to love like breathing. Like the stars in the sky. Like gravity. Like the whole world spinning. I want to love him because I do.
I want this mystery man—the one who was meant for me. The one who I am finally ready for.
What I don’t want: To allow the societal voices in my head to dictate who I should love, and when, and how. I live in the United States, a place with so much relative freedom. I want to revel in this freedom and build a life I actually want to live, the life that I can see and feel in my heart whenever I close my eyes, instead of forcing myself to fit into the many boxes of society’s “Shoulds.”
I’m terrified. It’s so much easier to follow society’s well-worn trail than to walk the path uncharted.
Smile, breathe, and go slowly. - Thich Nhat Hanh
This month, with space and time (and echoes of moving stress), I have been trashing most of the old photos and journals I’ve carried around for the first three decades of my life.
It has been an amazing experience to read old diary entries and to look back at photos of the girl I was, to realize how far I have come, and to realize how much past pain I was still holding onto. I have spent nearly twenty years now in and out of therapy. I have healed so much, and still, I have been holding onto the idea and image of myself as someone who is struggling. Someone who is broken.
I didn’t realize this. I didn’t realize I still needed to choose to let go of my own struggles. I didn’t realize I still needed to give myself permission to be okay. Even if the grieving isn’t over, even if the grieving is never really over, I can still allow myself to be okay.
Sometimes we don’t want to heal because the pain is the last link to what we’ve lost. - J.M. Storm
As usual, I wish I had something profound on which to end this diary entry, but as usual, I don’t. Life is profound in and of itself, in every moment of every day that we manage to keep ourselves (and our loved ones) breathing.
I’m glad to be back here with you, Dear Reader. I promise to work out some semblance of consistency for posting. Something more realistic to the ebs and flows of life than daily diary entries.
I hope you have been well, whoever and wherever you are.
I’m glad we’re both here,
Lara