It's been quite a week emotionally. I've been dealing with my own internal conundrum, and it's had me restless and anxious in spirit. I think part of that is because I can't quite define, much less label what I feel. There's great beauty in loving and being allowed to love again. However, at the same time, it's in conflict (not quite the right word either) with feelings I still have for John. (The dude isn't any less alive to me just because I've found someone else.) It's not a feeling of guilt, not at all. It's more of an overwhelming feeling, more a feeling akin to being too full after a rich meal (I've never been able to handle surf n' turf - too much good all at once). Can't quite fit the lid on my coronary tupperware container... my feelings are... disorganized.
Murphy Brown once said, "Men are like Dove Bars. One is great. Two will make you sick."
It's helped a lot to talk it out a bit with Tonto and Timothy (who both know me well enough to pooh-pooh my self-inflicted notion of psychosis). To at least give the damned thing airspace, to put it out there. Acumen is good for the soul. The consensus is (and I am amalgamating and retrofitting words from others here), "Grateful Jesus in the dark, Barbara Ann! Let it be. Slow the fuck down. Don't make yourself crazy with it. Just enjoy it for what it is."
Yeah. Sure. Okay. But.
And then last night I wrote this. And now I feel better. Yards and miles better. Nothing like a bit of focus and locution to get the soul gunk sorted, or to acknowledge (in this case) that some things just aren't meant to be sorted. They is what they is.