Ill do my best to explain it, with words that I can understand, which most likely will mean, little words. Small words. Words that…wont make much sense.
I have a friend, who I have written about once, maybe twice. Someone I met a long while ago, and consider to be among the few I consider friends. Last night she invited us down to her place for Thanksgiving. She said a few kind words about her family being our family, and even offered to make pie. I smiled. Nodded my head. Agreed that it sounded like a good, wonderful, fun, exciting idea…
But then it happened.
Like it often does.
I found myself wishing to be hugging the floor. Instead of making plans. Plans for the future. Plans to meet someone I have never met before. Plans. Any sort of plans. Plans for the holidays. But mainly, just plan…for something we might, I might, enjoy.
More often than I care to admit.
I cant make sense of it, don’t claim to have it all figured out. Don’t even want to attempt to understand it. But sometimes, I wonder if I should even HAVE a friend, this friend…this person that I don’t really deserve to know. I find myself stepping back, second guessing, shutting down, and shoving away.
Atleast to me.
I have the right mind to say yes, and go forward with it. To bring myself to the end of this life with worry and stress about it. Just because. But I wont. I know I wont. Which is the only way I can calm myself down sometimes, is talk to myself, and decide against doing something I already decided to do.
I don’t know why, I don’t know how. I just know it happens.
I don’t let myself, get close. To anyone.
And when I do, when I find myself slipping, and getting close, getting to know someone, and really starting to look forward to someone or something…I stop. I push back and run. Because of what it means, to me. In my mind.
If I get to close to someone, or something. If I let myself love, or like even. If I show any hints of enjoying anything or anyone…something in me snaps, and says “Woah, hold on, remember last time”…and I do. Remember, last time. I don’t want to go back, don’t want to relive the past. I don’t want to ruin anything, or anyone else again, and so I stop. I hold back, step back.
Its been a real struggle, this past year. To let myself, or force myself, rather. To love the kids. Something that should (and does) come so naturally…but is something that goes against everything, and anything I believe. Its been a real struggle, a real balancing act, a constant battle. Something I struggle with every day. How much should I love them? When is it too much? When will it harm them? It gets to me, sometimes. If I love too much, then something could happen. If I let them love, I could hurt them. I could make myself crazy over those thoughts. But the truth is, I already am. Crazy, that is.
When it comes to people, real people. Real friends, real honest people who want to love, and be loved. I find myself slipping back, pushing away. I find myself wanting to run. To let go, and just…forget.
It’s a daily battle. Its something that haunts me. That drives me nuts. That controls my life.
…and I will admit.
It is something that keeps me up at night.