I’m hurt, this body’s wearing thin
A beautiful mistake I’m living in
I’m tired, sometimes I fantasize
They push me out to sea
Coins on my eyes
Family, friends say goodbye
I’m hurt, not hurt enough to die
See I was born to raise, born to fight
I’m tired, not tired enough to sleep
So devil on my chest don’t sing to me
But take my breath, let me be
Oh let me be-Lyrics from Flags by SYML
I’ve been dreaming about an adventure. It doesn’t help that I’ve been reading To Shake the Sleeping Self by Jedidiah Jenkins. This book about his travels from Oregon to Patagonia on a bicycle are leaving me with so many feelings. I mean, man. How insane is that journey? I can barely ride a bike around my neighborhood and honestly, that is being generous. I can barely ride a bike down our driveway.
I am dreaming about something better. Something that fills my heart and soul. Something that is not the same damn thing I have been doing every day of my life. I have never lived anywhere but here. I have traveled very little. My family would go to Maine frequently when I was a kid. A couple of years ago I spent a month in Florida and I spent a few days in Pennsylvania in May. How am I supposed to know this is where I belong when that is all I have seen of this country, of this world?
I am dreaming of fresh produce, even in the summer. Wearing clothing that is not so suffocating. January is cold and lonely, dark and isolating. Aside from February, it is my least favorite month of the year. I long for the warmth of spring all winter long. I am dreaming of living somewhere that doesn’t leave me missing an entire six month period of time.
I am dreaming of going to Mexico. I want to see the great Monarch Migration. What an incredible experience that would be. We raise and release Monarchs each year. This year we let close to 200 fly free, out of our dining room, to migrate to Mexico. To see the butterflies from the super generation arriving at their destination would bring me such an amazing amount of joy.
I am dreaming of peace. Of quiet. I am dreaming of the ability to handle stress, to have no pain. I am dreaming of the feeling of a warm cup of coffee in a quaint coffee shop with the sun pouring in large windows, tables that don’t tip, a journal full of chicken scratch, and a well loved book. I am dreaming of bubble baths in soaker tubs. I am dreaming of lightness. Freedom.
I am dreaming of wellness. I am dreaming of mental health. I am dreaming of my children, happy, playing, joyous. I am dreaming of a yard full of gardens. I am dreaming of not being allergic to my dogs anymore, having a yard miraculously not full of dog poop, and a fence so the chickens can follow us around like they did once before. I am dreaming of the sound of birds in spring. I am dreaming of the taste of a bowl of Ben and Jerry’s, the windows open, the sun setting, a warm breeze brushing my skin.
I am dreaming of this all with the perfect soundtrack playing in my ears, blocking the sounds of reality. I am dreaming of all of this while I have so much of what other people are dreaming of. I am dreaming of all of this because I live in a constant state of flight mode and I am dreaming of not being in a constant state of flight mode.
I am dreaming of a happy marriage, full of laughter. I am dreaming of who we were, before I got in the way. I am dreaming of my husband’s smile, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling, the way they did that day in Starbucks while we drank coffee and got to know each other and my heart was so full of love I took a picture to keep that moment forever. I am dreaming of the days of being a team. I am dreaming of the days of him calling into work so we could spend the day in bed. I am dreaming of unconditional love.
I am dreaming of life before everything got so damn hard. I am dreaming of life before chronic illness (though I think it was always there, just less noisy). I am dreaming of the future. I am dreaming of being able to breathe without this awful feeling sitting on my chest. I am dreaming of being able to sleep. I am dreaming of being able to use my hands without pain. I am dreaming of finding answers.
I am dreaming of finding answers.
I am dreaming of finding answers because I can’t do this for much longer. I have been saying that for six years. I can’t do this much longer. But now he is saying it too. I can’t do this for much longer. This has been so difficult. I am dreaming of a cloudless blue sky. Grass under my back, tickling my bare skin. I am dreaming of my favorite dog next to me, her head across my belly, the sun warming us both. I am dreaming that she is still here and not gone too soon. I am dreaming of belly laughter I haven’t heard in so long.
I am dreaming of a warm loaf of bread, fresh from the oven, kneaded by my grandmother’s knotted hands, a slab of butter melting on a slice freshly cut. I am dreaming of questions I should have asked my grandfather. I am dreaming of the relationship I will never have with my father. I am dreaming of a different history.
I am a dreamer. I am a lover. I am an empath. I am just on the border of extroversion. I am a highly sensitive person. I love the smell of fire, the feel of the pages of a written-in journal, the smell of a bookstore. I love the way the sun feels on my skin, the way my heart feels when I am happy.
I love the way it feels when I have a good day, a rare, rare good day, when I can laugh along with my children. When I can hug my husband. When I can sit without pain, when I can sleep. I love the way it feels when I hear the perfect song to sum up my perfect day and I love when I hear the perfect song to sum up my awful day. I love the vision I have of a happy family, my happy family, except for the part that I am not in it.
I am dreaming of living.