Rants. I have them. This is one.
This week has been busy. Well, not really. Busy in my head. I’ve thoughts in my head and they want out. So here’s the deal. A few weeks ago I came across an article on Facebook that struck a chord with me. It was about the things that we fear about ourselves being our greatest strengths. I’ve discovered that about myself. I have wanted to go through that article and bring it into my life a little more by writing about it. As I’ve been contemplating it, my LDS background has naturally filtered information to think of a Book of Mormon verse about making our weaknesses strong. That ticked me off a bit. Here I was going to write this insightful article and I’m upset because I realized there was a religious connection, and religion and my family aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. Ok, I’ll push through that. Let me get past that. Oh this is a good paragraph….but it isn’t quite my experience. I really had more of a shame thing going on, not that I scared people away. I felt more ashamed that I was so passionate, and I never let it out. Well, almost never. I did cry in front of my girlfriend while visiting Temple Square that one time. (Crap, more of that religion angst). Dang, this whole article is messing me up. It isn’t what I thought it was. Yeah, I could write my own article but I was planning on using this as a framework. Now I can’t get past this mental fuzz.
I remember several years ago, I was going to write an article or series of articles about love. I had a good idea where it was going to go….And then Tracy got mad at me. Well, not really about me, but I was there; I was the trigger. I mean, she was ticked. Funny how something like that can throw me off so much. After a couple of days trying to figure out what I did or what I could do to help, there was discussion that helped us both get through it. It kind of shredded my plans on my essays regardless. Yeah, maybe I could write an article about love and practicality, but that doesn’t interest me. Passion interests me. Honesty interests me. I still have some unresolved things in that department and I wanted to get that out. Love as being lost in someone, spending an hour or so holding hands and tracing their fingers with your own, that is what interests me. Conflict resolution just doesn’t do it at all for me, and it seems that we’ve spent entirely too much time on that in the past couple of years as we unpacked our expectations and our lives, the lives of which we never spoke, to each other. Love as an adventure is what I wanted to write, not love as pushing through the decades of unresolved feelings and expectations.
Perhaps I need to write more in the moment, when the urge first hits me. God no! That article I read about obsession and love hit way too close to home. I’ve known I have a few oddities going on, most related to a particular time in my life. I have admitted that here on my blog. Still, that article went on to talk about love as obsession and loneliness and an eventual end of life being unfulfilled and loss, incredible heart-crushing loss. Was that my eventual end as a romantic, never being satisfied? Why the hell would I want to write about that in the moment?
And I admit, I have wants. Most of my life, I’ve played it safe. I wanted acceptance and security. Now I don’t. I want adventure. I want dancing in the moonlight and walks in the woods. I want to sit on the shoreline as the ocean roars below me. See that mountain? I want to climb it. Hell, see that hill? I want to be on top of it. I want to feel small and insignificant and not important at all. I want to tell those people in my life how much I love them and what they’ve meant to me. I want to start conversations with complete strangers. And I want to lose 40 pounds. My life would be easier if I just lost that 40 pounds.
Oh, there will be more. There will be much more.
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