Knock knock

It is not often in life that we are given the gift of a second chance in life. 

I get that sounds dramatic. I like a little drama. Not too much, but a little bit. 

For the last seven months I have been considering that statement. Some of those days it was overwhelming. Paralyzing, even. And I shut it down, refusing to hear it, look at it, think about it. 

But as time goes on, and I heal from my old life - a terrible work life that bled into all other life forms - my choices - good or bad, good and bad, I feel less afraid of the second chance. Less. 

I am tentatively curious. What could this mean? What could it mean to everything? Too much...what could it mean to today? Tomorrow?

My husband waits and watches to see what I do. 

I wait to see when I will shrug off the remaining guilt, the paralysis of the last five years. 

He says it's time to let it go. Stop being so introspective already and let it go. 

Let go of shitty and stuck. Because you're not. 

Let go of things that bound you to a life that is no longer yours. 

Ghosts of fear, anger, resentment, hate, yes, hate. In the last year I spent a lot of time with that word - a terrible tasting word, on my tongue. It infected my other words, and settled in my mouth like a toothache, but one unable be brushed or flossed or hell, drilled out of your mouth. I know, I tried. 

Time is the only salve, and God knows, it takes its time. 

More than losing - losing? my business. Lose. Walk away. Give away. Trade away. Escape. 

Which is it? 

Depends on the day. Or hour. Minute. Moment. I have needed time to heal from that too, and I've been taking it. I've been given it. Give and take give and take. 

When I used to sit in Wendy's office, (my beloved therapist of my early twenties) perched in some tall office building on 57th St, I had this concept of myself as being special. I felt it. It was magical, hard to explain but very real. 

As my situation worsened, that idea went away. But the memory of it did not. 

And lately I think - is it coming back? Or what is that - some twinge of something good and hopeful. Words and ideas knock knock knocking to be let out out of my introspective brain, out of my on-the-mend broken heart. Could I/it be coming back? I hope but I can't dwell on what it could mean. 

Not yet. 

For now I blow on the embers and pray for fire. 

Tiempo y espacio. My go to reflection from my recent trip to Spain. 

Also it sounds better in Spanish - more dramatic. 

Time and space. Luxuries not afforded to many. I get that. 

I also know that without them I wouldn't be healing. 

And I am. 

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I am who I am.

I write that reality. 

And when I fail, I fail spectacularly.