Musings of a Meandering Mind

One of the chapters in T he Artist’s Way is on recovering a sense of strength.  One of the tasks is to pick a colour and describe myself in first person.  One of my most vivid childhood memories was getting school supplies – more specifically a brand-new box crayons for the upcoming year.   A bright, new, untouched, chisel-tipped rainbow hidden beneath the flap – to this day I can still remember the smell when opening the box.   To get a box of 64 colours with a built in sharpener was better than winning any lottery.   I would read the names with excitement, organizing them from the best colours to the worst, then  sort like with like.   I spent hours sorting, drawing and colouring.   So, with this week’s task of choosing a colour, I immediately thought of a colour, then hemmed and hawed like the 7 year old girl with the big box of crayons.   Atomic Tangerine, Hot Magenta, Ultra Red - so many choices – but returned to my first choice. I am Black.   Black as the closet. Filled

Eight years wasn't long enough - eighty years wouldn't have been either I wish I could relive every moment together.   From the moment we first met to the last goodbye. If only I could feel your arms around me. Your body pressed up against mine. To hear you whisper I love you in my ear. Just one more time. I wish I could run my fingers through your hair. Trace your jawline, your moustache, or your dimple. If only I could walk with you hand in hand. with our fingers interlocked tightly. To randomly dance to the beat of our hearts. Just one more time. I wish we could lay in bed and let the world disappear. In each other’s arms, our bodies entwined. If only we could return to our happy place. Where we shared our hopes and dreams. To feel your lips tenderly against mine. Just one more time. I know I could wish upon every star in the sky. But we will never relive those moments we had. I must settle with all the memories I keep.

How are you doing?  A question asked by loving, caring people with a genuine concern for my well-being.  How do I answer?  I’m doing okay.  I have ups and downs but move forward day by day.  It’s the easiest response to give.  I do share a bit more with certain people who know how to read me, but it too is a watered version of my reality.  Honestly, I don’t want to burden them with my pain, nor have them worry about me.  There isn’t anything they could do to help me through this.  It is a journey which I must take alone. I’ve decided to capture these thoughts, my pain, in words – an attempt to release some of weight of these emotions and allowing me to move forward. How am I doing?  I just exist.  No desire.  No drive.  No dreams.  No direction.  Numb. Each morning I dread waking to a new mediocre day, wishing to stay safe within my dreams.  Daily tasks are draining. The hours drag even though days go by so quickly.  Each day is repetitious, meaningless.  I don’t want to