Two Years Later, Part 2

For completion's sake, I thought I should at least enter something into an entry that continues upon the themes of my initial return entry. But I don't feel the need to go in depth about the happenings of the last year and a half. The scabs of some wounds--those both inflicted and caused--still haven't healed completely. It would be unfair to too many to elaborate on them.

However, I can say that, on the whole, I have been geniunely displeased with myself and my conduct during this time span. Some terrible mistakes were made and some bridges were irrevocably burned. And now I'm left to occasionally sift through the ashes of my mistakes and try to find small semblences of meaning.

It is hard when you find yourself in a position where the only way to make yourself happy is by causing pain to someone else. My mom tells--in words that hint at a maternal wisdom I had not before fully contemplated--that hurting someone else is not always the worse thing in the world. It's never a good thing, understand, but when you're truly unhappy in a situation, you can never fully give yourself to somebody else. In those situations, "hurting" someone may actually be the best kind of help.

Maybe that's a selfish way of looking at things. I don't know. I find myself replaying events and conversations in my head daily; wondering if I made the right choices, if I said the right words. And the truth is that I don't know what to think of those things I've done. I hope that time finds a way to cast a positive light on the choices I had to make; that time softens the bumps and bruises caused by living. I hope.

I've been single for four months now. In that time, I've learned a lot about myself; things I had forgotten or stored away over the course of the previous five years and three relationships. I'm learning to be comfortable in my own skin. I'm learning to own up to who I am, accept it, and strive for things that heretofore seemed out of my reach. It's lonely somedays. I can't deny that. Sometimes I find myself longing for someone to share this life with on a daily basis. But those feelings come and go and I usually don't dwell on them for too long.

I don't know where things will go. Truthfully, I feel that it is unfair for me to get involved with anyone, or to make any radical life changes, while I'm still in such a general state of perpetual motion. How can you be stability for someone when your own stable-ness could be called into question? I feel that I'm starting to get my head screwed back on correctly and that process will continue to take some time.

I think things will be better for me once I move back to the area. In about a month or two, my brother and I are going to room up in the house my father owns. I am excited beyond words. The chance to live with my brother, to continue to connect with him, is thrilling. He has become the kind of person I always knew he was. He is growing up and the thing I love is that hsi spiritual maturity has grown exponentially. I feel as if--and this has always been the case, but if feels even stronger now--that I will learn far more from him than he will learn from me. But I think we both have things we can share with each other and I look forward to that.

And I look forward to trying to reconnect with some of the people I have lost touch with over these past two years. I hope my words convey strongly enough the sadness I feel for losing touch. Words mean shit. I know that. So I hope to show it with actions. Give me time and I will make amends, or do my best to do so.

The last two years have been a strange, beautiful, devastating trip. The wheels have stayed on the bus, so to speak, but that doesn't mean the bus hasn't come dangerously close to careening off the cliff from time to time. But I think I have made it through and this period of learning and growing--that I overestimated to begin with--is coming to a close. I'm glad. I want off this track and back onto some sort of stable ground. I want to return to my roots and continue my journey in a setting that is not so hostile and threatening; so unfamiliar.

And so that is where things stand, two years later. Keep me in your thoughts and I will keep you in mine. And when I learn how to pray again, in a way that has real meaning, I will think of you then and make up for all this time lost.

If you're reading this, know you have my love. Always have.

Until next time...

Be safe and sound.