Waiting for the Sun
untethering myself from the blanket of chaos
THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH
Scattered around my apartment are remnants of places, people, and things I have loved. You’ll see photos in boxes, magnets hugging the photos on the fridge.
Memory and time, our two precious gifts.
Right now I feel the sadness in my nose. It’s the sensation I get right before I cry. I try not to tie together writing with low feelings but sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me process what I’m experiencing.
Pia can sense when I feel like this. She’s just stretched her body along my side to bring me back.
I have a hard time taking out the trash after someone I care about has been over my apartment, it keeps them here with me a little longer. Proof of our time together.
Marble’s hair is in the backseat of my car and I don’t know when I’ll be ready to take it to get vacuumed. She’s still here with me a little longer, even though we said our goodbyes last week.
That was written a few weeks ago and to be frank, it still doesn’t feel real. I write to process, I write to remember. I haven’t written in what feels like the longest stretch ever, the days started to bleed together, my apartment looked discarded and uncared for. Truthfully, I didn’t know which way was up.
The laundry piled up in bags that overflowed to the floor, weeks worth of dishes in the sink. I couldn’t do any of it. I wanted to but when I would start to do one thing a huge sense of overwhelm washed over me and the easier thing to do would be to ignore it.
This lasted a while. If any of my friends came over and saw that I’d feel shame and embarrassment. The bigger thing to focus on was getting my assignments in and going to work. Days turned into weeks and before I knew it it’d been months living like that. I don’t know what to call what was happening. I felt joy, overwhelm, and chaos? What it was– Disorder.
I’m writing to you from a different mental place, one with a little more order. There are no dishes in the sink. There is no laundry to be put away. I want you to know you’re not a bad person if things start to feel like they’re too much to handle. You can give yourself a little grace. Sometimes the days really aren’t long enough and other times it’s the longest day of the year and you’ve worked it out that everything will be ok.
All the choices you’re making are the right ones.
THE FRECKLES ON YOUR ARMS LOOK LIKE CONSTELLATIONS TO ME, AND I’D KISS EVERY ONE
Dear Dad,
I love you. I’m so proud of you, and I think everyday for as long as there is air in my lungs I’ll be proud of you. You are so special to me, like a precious little gemstone that I found walking in a desert. You make me want to be the best version of me, the strongest version of me. I’m glad we got to talk on the phone today. There’s a bit of you in me, I’m a bit of you. It’s in the way we laugh. I love you Dad.
Love always,
Honey Bee