Who Needs Anemones

"When was the last time you did something for the first time?"

[trossy20]

I couldn’t tell you the last time I posted, but don’t worry- I’ve been journaling here and there still. I write now because it’s starting to be that I can’t remember the last time I’ve journaled. It’s funny that part of winding down - the cherry on top of a long day. You arrive to an empty apartment and it’s warm. It’s 1800 but the sun is up. You are finally home. And hungry. You have nothing else but to eat. Unwind. Finally. A moment to smoke. And how can anyone think negatively about that when it does things like bring me here to sit and think and write? How it slows me down in a thoughtful way. Makes me present. Makes me realize I’m relaxed, watering the flowers- a company I’ve missed and somehow forgotten. Or when it has me take stock. And brings me to tears because in the insanity of everything going around all of us in every single day - I am happy. Not ignorant of what’s going on but knowing that’s all happening, and finding joy despite it. Maybe in spite of it. I felt relief watching that comedian so openly express his feeling this way too. And so I’ll write to two mentors I’d say, helping the city’s community garden run so wonderfully- a place depicting exactly that: wonderful.

[trossy20]

Text prompt: Certainly

She was proper. He was simple. She filled him with joy and excitement. They were chums and had known each other from very young. But time had them grow apart. Each seemingly watched the other from a distance enough, as they went through their own steep curves and dramatic falls of life. When he found himself in quiet moments, he thought of her. He missed her and was sure enough that she missed him. They crossed paths again at a grocery store (of course). They were in town during the holidays. They mirrored each other with a double take and grinned. The two caught up and confirmed that they were staying at their family's - the addresses hadn't changed. He wrote her again that night, as he had written her so many times before. But neither those nor this note had made it to her. Instead, from his desk as he watched the final leaves drift off the old maple in his childhood yard, he stood up. The wind outside picked up, as if their hometown felt the energy too. He pulled a jacket off the hallway hook, slipped his arms through, and went out the front door, not pausing a step. More leaves danced arounds his legs, rooting him along as he strode through their childhood neighborhood - all the houses much the same. The familiarity warmed him amidst the crisp air - or was it nerves? His heart beating so - or was it his pace? All too soon, he found himself at her doorstep. He rang. She answered. He caught his breath and through a clumsy smile finally asked, "can I come in?" She smiled too, opened the door wider and made room for him as she said, "certainly."

[trossy20]

From Fahrenheit 451

Granger talking about his grandfather "When I was a boy my grandfather died, and he was a sculptor. He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give the world, and he helped clean up the slum in our town...he did a million things in his lifetime; he was always busy with his hands. And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the back yard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think, what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on. ... everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some wa so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away."

(in my version, p. 149-151)

[trossy20]

I know you're gonna ask how my night was

and i want to tell you but i need to tell you before it leaves my mind. and i didn't want to text it to you for you to wake up to bc that would be like ... just a lot at once.

So my night was therapeutic. With a little puff, i began to journal.

I wrote as the thoughts came and definitely got sidetracked, but amidst the rambling into text, i had some insight.

I reflected on themes. i guess one theme being the big one - forcing things. working against what comes naturally.

It brought me to thinking about the last relationship (yknow, the one before ThePeaceCorps and I ;P ). and went all through that as if it was the first time mourning in a while. I her BirdsCard letter and WEPT.

She's a wonderful writer and wrote really beautifully of me but especially because it was honest. It was acceptance of our love needing to prioritize ourselves. But she saw me and knew me and because of that, knew that we were incompatible. And she brought me to this goal, nearly handed me off. This new relationship she helped me start before leaving. This PeaceCorps relationship. I believe I applied in... June. Invitation for interview Aug 10th. Even THAT was a rough start XD... And I reflect on how much ... to say these have been my difficulties speaks to my privilege... how challenging these two eras have been. And how easy you are. How everything feels good. Even the uncomfortable has proven so good... so easy, so generous, so sure. How can she be so sure?! ------- Since I know you're going to ask and I wanted to tell you: The night was perfect. With a wee puff or two, I found mars and Jupiter in the sky with an app and went inside to journal. And I opened my laptop

[trossy20]

he went for a run and realized it had been too long since exercising X)

[trossy20]

She left after yet another lovely day together, and suddenly he felt hollow. Maybe it was because he was feeling to be filling too much on a drug. Or that the magic was beginning to wear off. Was she getting bored? Or that with learning about her histories, his assured theory about her love life felt punctured. He medicated with replies to someone else, whose attention was starting to feel unequal. The desire for her wavering, his hoping that some in-person interaction would assure him otherwise. The desires of this one, eased by yet another - her foundation strong, her distance admirable. Her independence perfect. He left one game of love to enter another, this one more scattered though intricate in its mixing of new and old. He concluded it was time for a run.

[trossy20]

Germany trip July 2024

New York summer heat greeted me. The northeastern coast humidity familiar as home. The gate was having technical issues, so we disembarked off the steps. I looked back to the plane, our vessel of transport from Paris across the globe and back home. A pang of sadness hit me. One of the last vestiges of the week. The last bit of Europe before coming back to reality. Before coming back to my room, my demons, my recovery. Truth is, the trip turned out to be one hell of a final gift. Her last-minute-drop out opened a door of different company and an entirely different feel- all for the better. A reawakening or even a creating of a new hunger. Desire, like the new bachelor I am; but also as Chris reinforced, to reconfigure the day to my schedule, interests. Yeah, desire. The concert was incredible of course, but the best part was having met a crew at the hostel. My me-ness stretched in pleasure at unaltered conversation with strangers, at laughing with them, at texting them and meeting up with them to enjoy the concert together. To make the hectic, scattered journey back together. For none of it to feel measured or wrong, criticized or leading to an argument. ---------- The magic museum had a mini game for which I pulled the fortune that I'd be single for the year. I laughed and thought how nice that It made me happy. ----------

It felt like two weeks, but was barely one. Forced sitting through all our train hopping, but pleasantly so. The changing cityscape opening to green hills and fields to the horizon, bunched collections of homes sprinkled here and there. It felt good. Not mention looked good, beyond the scenery ;). Paris surprised me. I got choked up with emotion at the excitement, multiplied by the buzz of the Olympics. Decorations and athletes abound, and right in front of my the Champs Élysées. He rightfully asked at the last dinner, if this was really the last time between her and I. I know internally my conviction stronger than ever before, but all the same words. The waterworks triggered when he talked about taking all the good that came from her. I'm well aware the healing will take time and will continue to come in spurts. Time also allowing more of the good to come into the light. For now, too soon still to see her. Too soon still to let go of the anger that remains. I'm sure it's mutual. As with (ideally) every relationship, much learned. So much gained. So much given. Coming back (at least at the layover), I feel disoriented. Granted, I have 3 different time zones on my watch (laptop vs phone vs watch). I'll return to familiarity to help ground me, and even roommate-less for a couple days. No rush back into work. No excuses to do anything but re-orient like I haven't in 3 years.

[trossy20]

Post Seattle trip July 2024

I think I've gone a bit overboard on trips. I keep being met with the challenge to sit and focus, but I find growth in these experiences as well. At this point, the bank account is damn near yelling. My "No," muscle's kryptonite is spending time with people I love, so maybe I won't do Germany after all. Seattle was a blast. Having lived with this crew before, it was comfortable and easy to go at our own pace. From napping to going out, from paddleboarding to reading at the bookstore. While there though, I was admiring my friend's space. Mature, welcoming, the lighting mixed with apple commands, the plant-life. I had talked to him previously about having felt ready to leave and from the lonely start he described, his space and ease there showed he had found his groove, all the better for it. Time with them was stimulating and healing in every way. We spoke on challenges, on growing. Especially on practicing slowing down. On thinking. On exercising choice of words. ....Meanwhile I had not been a great communicator the first night there, to my special friend. Loose on our title, I guess I'm not solid on the expectations. I failed to bring up when/if we were going to have a phone call that night. Quietly and abruptly, she went to bed early and that was the last we spoke over the weekend. I came back home early, organized my space and was waiting to try to make amends. The day got away. Mid day even, I had my bike half-locked outside the gym, in-view to the front desk. I finished my workout and arrived at a wheel-less bike. Welcome back to the area. The next morning on my way to work, I picked up an even more mangled skeleton of a bike. Work was the usual until shift change, where our manager asked both incoming and outgoing shifts to gather. She shared the heavy news that we had lost a team member. Her heart giant, opposing her small stature, she was always looking to help. Bright, loving, young. Taken too soon. We silently, in part disbelief received the news and as my coworker put it "typical to our nursing ways," compartmentalized and returned to our jobs ever so sullenly. After work, I was looking forward to picking up one of our favorite's to eat as we talked out the weekend. It was short-lived. Using November's prompts: 1. I was upset. I was mourning. I was protective - her distance causing me to become so as well. 2. The trigger: waiting for a chance on Sunday. Her being late to talking on Monday, knowing my ETA. The way she said things...essentially concluding it was over. Wondering why she's still in this (whatever this is, really). 3. What was the anger protecting: vulnerability. opening back up to the same song and dance. 4. what did you note was happening in your body/thoughts: closed off-ness. resignation. frustration at feeling "this way," again like her but on the other side. wanting to also be done with it. annoyance that there's again an argument before a big trip. Proving in these moments, why we hesitate to make plans together. Proving the instability, proving us right about "incompatibility." Reminding me that I'm rounding the end of a chapter, as is she. No matter the outcome for peace corps, I will leave. Needing to move on, for both of us.

[trossy20]

It was going to be one hell of a week just looking at it: Work, an hour of something, then 4 more hours of diving class. Three days in a row. Joyfully so as it was self chosen, but not so joyful when the time came. It seemed every day was wrought with the hard emotions. The start of the week came with the heavy news of his best friend's mother passing - friend had left earlier in the week as she was admitted into the ICU. The next day, news of a truly beloved colleague passing. Coping strategies were non existent - no time for it. No gym, no down time, little sleep. One things to the next as if time just kept cranking up the speed and things kept piling on. Thursday came with a break. Excited to have time finally to regroup. Instead, the final conversation. Feeling truly like it, because there was nothing left at this point. Disconnection so very real it couldn't be fought. A search for comfort in a friend. "you up?" such a lighthearted and pure distraction, hearing about all the good happening in this friend's day. a late run to whole foods: co worker's last day and another's birthday. Crying, baking cookies.

[trossy20]

Tapering

That's what keeps repeating in my head. Allow me to be dramatic here: a titration of our being together. Starting with less texts, less calls, dissolving plans... Still loose ends needing talked ties. My own half denial about the whole thing, peeking over the edge of the cliff. A gorge cut into my own core, of a life without her. Comfort in knowing it'll all be okay, as nearly 3 years pales in comparison to most. As our lives were of course involved and entangled as any relationship be, yet no human life to be tainted (furbaby will move on. She's a happy girl). It's painful to imagine the dull echo of a heavy door shutting, when so many times it came close to being slammed out of spite and in anger, only to bounce right back open; or to be gingerly sliding closed, ripped wide open a moment later with forgiveness, relief, and a rush of what feels like home. Does that make this easier? Maybe, in the way that I'm sure we've been chipping away all this time. In the way that I know we'll both find relief. In the way that I've "accepted," this before. Does that make this harder? Maybe. In the way that this early on, there's still an uncertainty about permanence. A desire to yes, taper. To still see her, to still help her, support her - though the longer we're in contact, the longer all this dragged out, isn't it? Time to schedule therapy.

[trossy20]

Going, going...gone

I worry I'm compartmentalizing. Perhaps more so, I've felt it all already. How many times was this mourned? How many times a promise for better? How many times some hope for enough change? And with the last low, biting, menacing blow, all the certainty delivered. Peace for us both. Likely, it was going to terminate with one last argument. Where all the frustrations of everything building up came to a head because what was really left? Only peace compromised in staying. Only more anxiety promised in gritting teeth through discomfort, on both sides. We knew this long ago but hope burned strong and deep for these twin flames. As it goes, the red flags from the very beginning were ringing loud and true to the end. But this is different, I reassured myself. Similarities of the things that scared me from a prior relationship. She's actually progressing. But looking back, it was one step forward and two stumbling back. For a period it seemed to be going smoothly. Finally, more than a week without rough friction (apparently not the norm...). But as we both agreed, we weren't being honest with how we really felt. A period of avoiding triggering anxieties and at least for me, leading to a depressive slump. It's hard of course. So obvious from the outside and while looking back. The incompatibilities and unhealthiness blinded by the shine of laughter, support, love, and growth in every other way. And a hope that I could be the foundation she needed. *Cue the eye rolling from the audience* Friends and family knowing all too well the reality, but allowing the journey I needed taking. There for the endless back and forth's. For rebuilding every time-- and I regret pulling everyone along. Let this be the loudest ringing lesson. It's true what they say though: it seems when you have the chance to breathe and look up, look around, it's like the world is welcoming you back. Spirit feels like stretching. An openness I realized I'd been closing for all the wrong reasons. An anxious grip of attempting control, now loosened. All the signs (yet again) that things will be okay. I understand my heart is still a little heavy, but that's okay. As one chapter concludes, an entire library opens back up. I'll continue to lean into the embrace of life. How I've missed this...

[trossy20]

It ignites. It grows hot. It moves quick. It consumes. It takes hold. It destroys. It burns. It dares you to stand in its way. Its this anger. How it frightens with power, with hijacking control. But. Yes, the but. It's just another emotion. One that passes just as it came. One that dissolves. That leaves ashes fresh for healing if not allowed to burn clean through everything. And you, anger, I dare say- will not continue to destroy. You have room, dear anger. You have space of course. You're part of this family. Maybe you kick and scream because you've felt unseen. Unaddressed. Without room to stretch or express in any way, let alone healthy. But you belong, too. Just not without checks. Announce your presence - anyone will listen. There's no need to kick down (or should I say punch in) doors or walls. This is a new experience of emotions. To the unavoidable journey I've kept myself so preoccupied from taking... Looking out. Looking for other. Looking for new, for more. But it's all here. I lose the fact in distractions. I lose the feeling, the knowing of being held in love by so many. The reminder hit home. When she said so. When he said so. When they all say so.

A journey inward. That's the real adventure.

[trossy20]

Water Organs

It's been an emotional couple of days. The breakup. The support. The distractions... I came back to work after the trip and found one of my closer patients still there. The familiarity warming my trembling heart because they were as happy to see me as I them (yknow, considering the context with actually still being in the hospital and all). Honestly, these people give me more than I could give them. And there were new kind folks to work with. Barry (don't worry, not real name) has a fun relationship with language, making for quite the story teller. He has a very dry sense of humor. He enjoys obscure words and talks slowly, flatly. He answers you oddly and if you're rushing in and out I can see it being frustrating but luckily I've had the time to really get to know him. As I listened to his life be told, his personality grew. At one point he cracked himself up so abruptly that I thought first, he was about to sneeze, then wince. Definitely thought laugh last. Once I asked him for his talent, requesting another word for heartache. "Success." he said simply. I was hoping for a whole ass new word, but his explanation convinced me this was the best answer. "Success in your having opened your heart enough to be affected so deeply." I'll never forget that. I had the pleasure of having him for a couple days in a row. Yesterday he was feisty and apparently said a couple things that made the doctor find me afterwards to report "he likes you." I was honored. Today was a quieter day. I was busier and didn't have as much time to poke fun at a movie or show, or ask him about his siblings, or wait for him to reminisce. But once I went in and he suddenly said, though his eyes stayed closed, "there's a place you must go." In those words and especially from him, I knew I'd absolutely follow his direction. He sent me to a the water, though following a path. Outstretched and definitely an accidental find if you hadn't known to look prior. Where the ocean flows underneath the cement, the tide passes in and out of pipes. These have listening tubes. Water organs. I nearly gave up finding the place but the search was rewarded. I listened in. Only a couple pipes had their tunes at this tide. The wind was strong, the mist coming in but a belt of light still underneath the overcast that covered the bridge. Birds. Pelicans. I counted them like she would. If I hadn't been mid jog and poorly clothed for the exposure, I'd have waited longer and sat with a prayer. Still, it was definitely enough. I'm looking forward to telling Barry my experience.

[trossy20]

How it feels now

Like we're uneven. Which realistically we are. Because I can't squash that silly little hope that you'll change your mind. Because the way you talk to me feels the same. The way we back and forth feels the same. Because when we're together (at least up until I dropped you off) it feels the same. It feels like the constant dull, similar to when we first started talking about calling it for good. Which really, should've been where my mind stayed. Are we doing this wrong? Are we prolonging pain and inevitability? It all ends up working out, as they say. Yknow, in the way that "life goes on." It just feels really shitty. Feelings. Transient. Neither good or bad. Signals. The nightmares. The wishing for otherwise. And yet the knowing what's realistically best. The wanting still though, for its own unfolding. It makes me feel kinda silly: that I still pine over you. You still do me sure, but not the same way. I write to make it known to myself: it's over. Even though we'll be spending paradise together over 10 days... but where I especially get stuck is that I'd not want it to go back to what it was, either. I ache in wanting to have you as my own, but not if you don't want me for the future. I wouldn't want you hanging around for my trials, yet I don't want to let you go. What does "together but apart," mean? And as you said, you want all or nothing. If we're to apply that though, neither of us like the answer. There's a whole language around want vs need, wrong vs right - but when it comes to relationships, is there really a book on it? Especially one whose dynamic is rainbow by nature. Idk. I still am excited to see you, but how I feel now is guarded. Withdrawn. And because I love you it'll inevitably melt while we're together, but what am I to do about that.

[trossy20]

Feb '22

Her mom had previously asked me not to come to the wedding for sake of the rest of the family and being a whole thing. She stood firm against her mother, challenging her and daring her to look at the family, their history, their drama... and closemindedness. I offered and encouraged genuine consideration of my staying behind, despite having been specifically invited from the grooms. She's been rebuilding her relationship with her shitty sister. Baby steps. Avoiding the gigantic elephant in the room. I was grateful to hear the shitty sister was reestablishing a relationship with all of them. Maybe she'll turn out to be not so shitty. The real test will come when they decide to address the elephant. Hopefully by then, my sweetheart will have gained enough overdue patience, respect, forgiveness, and a genuine listen. For now, she's treading slowly with shady sister. I write in an echo of pain that fell heavy and sank slowly, deeper, when last night she asked for me not to attend.

[trossy20]

Regret means looking forward

Feb 2022 visit to CT: It feels like an alarm clock: a period of blaring, almost painful noise followed by silence. Short silence, interrupted again by the pounding pattern of noise. I'm referring to how we left off. Heavy regret. My last words, leaving a sting sharper than usual in your extra sensitive state, though sharp regardless. My last actions, of slamming doors instead of a deep breath and one last attempt to be soft.I think i felt rejected- literally to touch but that's alright. But then also called out for selfish motives despite my attempts to tend to you. Spite felt through your words of my affording to be a little less happy. Herein triggered my defense.The interaction played over and over. Continues to. Quelled temporarily mid flight by a Wes Anderson movie that probably only inspired me to finally write about it. It followed me into my naps. It played through my bathroom breaks. It glazed my eyes over as I went through security and waited to board. It carried in my tone when someone you still came up twice in conversation, one even to a complete stranger.I did however come across a book while browsing before boarding. I took a photo and mean to send to you. Its title now eludes me, but felt like a wink from the universe. I think without it, I'd be feeling even worse. I'm struggling to accept its lessons right now because everything is still too raw, but it was significant. It was about regrets.The intro begins with two different definitions of regret: one from psychiatrists and another from philosophers. They speak to actions that lead to undesired consequences that leave one feeling negatively, but also fail to capture the feeling. The author here clarifies the reason being that regret is a process.To paraphrase the bit I read: Regrets are necessary. They're human. They're important. There was one bit where the author broke down three different main reasons for why so. Essentially, they're necessary to learn and grow from. As i understood, with regrets, you mature. You fix. You do better. They bring vulnerability. You move closer to closing a gap

I'm thinking about them now, these regrets. I note that mine are for every time anger gets the best of me. In my case at least, regrets come from moments where I feel as though my flawed humanness is exposed at the expense of someone or something else. In this case and usually, you.I'm sorry. I regret letting my emotions get the best of me, slipping grip on the logic I (not feeling so overwhelmed and victim to more emotion) had at the beginning that you are tired. I let go the safe space of grounded-ness and only added to your emotional burden. I'm so sorry...I hear now that you mean only for me to Read the Room more. We've been here before- this disparity of energies and mood- and it's tricky to navigate but I've not tried a different strategy. Consideration for where you're at means more than tending to, or sweetness in the way that is my usual order of business. I'm not quite sure what that looks like yet. I find myself confused, but want to really digest that the norm is not the answer. -->I sighed to myself as I began this next paragraph: it's not easy. It's hard and hurts and is messy - this. Us. Not even just us. Relationships. Growth and healing need to come from both sides, from a place of humility. Regardless of what follows for us, I hope the struggles you're facing will soon bear fruit for your labor.- ->One part described a study that in short, compares a mentality of At Least vs I Could Have, finding that the latter's performance improved after given another round of whatever testing. This brought me hope. A framework with which to digest all the sad and hurt my brain and heart won't allow rest from yet. I've previously thought in some of our rough conversations, that "at least I didn't yell." Small victory when something like anger feels so hard to control. But here, At Least wasn't enough. I found my thinking to be more like "I should have kept quiet," "I should have just left it at that," but this narrative leaves me bitter. Should Have's sound like harping. A slight change in word, but one feels like failing an expectation where the other allows room for improvement.

[trossy20]

From NVC.org

Needs

Feelings