It jumps in between me and any man who who could maybe get close to me, this ghost of the habit of anger and disappointment. It can be cold and ferocious, so protective and capable, sharp and quick and hard working.
But the ghost is fading, the energy that created it losing focus and strength. And that's a very good thing. I don't need that ghost as my protector. I have character and virtue and G*d and a good mind and heart for that. But there's some sorrow at watching it dissolve, some feeling that I have been trying to hard to make things work a certain way, that I have completely betrayed myself, and in doing so, lost my center, lost myself, lost the chance for real intimacy along the way.
That chance is still there, and nothing is lost forever, but there have been losses. Wonderful opportunities have also opened up in that same space, but the opportunities now don't require a choice between me or others, me or men, intimacy or G*d.
I know there is a place for me in the world of human relationships, and this ghost won't scare me off or anyone else now either. But when there's loss, even the loss of a haunting ghost, there's some emptiness, some hesitation, some sadness, some feeling that nothing will be the same, even if what's next will be better and already is.
Forcing myself onto people and into places I don't belong, hiding away from the people and places I do, and being indifferent to where I already am, isn't a very good reflection of anything true about me. And while I gain this new sense of balance, I'm a little wobbly, missing the constant company of my ghost, feeling a little lonely in its absence, but optimistic nonetheless.
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1 comment:
The empty space between the familiar and the not yet familiar can be very disconcerting, can't it? Perhaps that's why we make sure we have friends to be disconcerted with. :)
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