The first sentence of a blog is hugely important.
It determines the path that your thoughts travel, and the ultimate success of your journey through your mind. On certain days, I'm afraid of that first sentence. Where will it take me? What thoughts have I left un-tapped? What parts of my mind have yet to be discovered like the hidden tribes of the Amazon who are speaking a language much more complex than anything we've yet to uncover and translate?
In complete silence, I sit alone in my no-bedroom apartment. Three weeks of laundry are splatterred around the box that I live in, pleading for me to hang them up and give them the attention they deserve. I will. Soon enough. I said that yesterday, and the day before, and the week before. This is my life. I can't say I'm not pleased. I can't say I'm not a little disappointed.
I started playing piano again and other meaningul activities like lifting weights and doing headstands. I had to. I can't stand being alone for long. It drives me into hours of thoughtful and intensive mind exploration. Danger zone. I'm there now. Should have started the headstands an hour ago. Can't go back now--must press on through this journey. I'm blogging again.
A friend told me--get a new journal. She said it'd be liberating to start over, to start fresh. I've come a long way in a short amount of time. I need to take the time to process what the past 6 months have meant for me. I've become someone new, but not quite new at all. Still Lydia. Still painfully Lydia. God, why did you bless me with this heart? I'm so dreadfully aware of my own emotions. So fully capable of letting myself feel. I wish I could hold the reigns for just a few moments longer before letting the tidal wave of emotions sweep over me at any given instant and allowing myself to drown in their overwhelming power.
I'm not drowning, though. I'm living. Given my past six months, I think the more likely reaction would have been to shut down, to crawl back into my mother's womb and act as if the past 21 years really hadn't happened. Could I have started over? No. Press on. That's the only solution. He happened. He completely happened.
And I don't regret it. Not a moment of it. I could have been smarter. I could have been more careful with my heart. Scroll back a few lines. Remember? Tidal wave.
But I chose to press on. That was a first. Usually, I wrestle with the pain, hold onto it, let it creep back into the crevices of my heart every few months or so to remind me of the painful life I lead. What lies. Thank you counseling. I've been lied to. For years.
I live a good life.
I may not be in South America.
I may not be living a daring, adventurous life.
I may be alone in a city I never expected to be in.
But I'm living and loving and laughing..and still crying.
And that's a good life.
I'm usually afraid of that first sentence, but I won't live in fear anymore. I have nothing to fear, for God is with me. He always has been--it's just time I start recognizing it more often.
