I have had an inner calling to go home. Something deep, mystical, and spiritual. I had this calling when I was still with T. Muttered about it under my breath, seemingly out of nowhere. I want to go home.
My soul is withered, has lost all passion. I wake up with the desire to do good but feel as though I am weighed down. I have the desire to feel free and passionate and happy, but something has been in my way.
So I am returning home, with the intent to nourish my soul and regain my spiritual self.
I walk around with a veil over my heart, and it has been this way since I have been in San Francisco. I have lost touch with myself. But that didn’t start when I was here, it started a long time ago. Honestly, before I can even remember.
But I know what it is like to be in touch with my soul, to feel vibrant and alive and free.
I am making my way home so that I can feel like that every day. So I can learn to bring it with me wherever I go.
So that my heart, my soul, my psyche can be revived.
There is a part of myself that I cannot deny, one that thrives in nature. As a child, I felt the call of the wilderness when on ranches. I felt a connection to my psyche in the wild animals. I felt the freedom that came with the open wilderness. I was one with the world.
I have the energy of wild howling wolves in my heart. I must stay in touch with it.
I can feel it now, in it’s tamest sense, as I grow herbs on my window sill in my high rise apartment. But I am not happy. They are not happy. We are confined by these spaces and domesticated into something that society considers good.
We bulldoze and change everything in our paths. Yet we never allow ourselves to stop and breath. To harness our natural born desires to be free.
I will no longer live with a veil over my heart. I will no longer deny myself the desire to do what I need.
I am going home, and no one can stop me.
People have been taking and taking from me. Work demanded every possible part of me. T didn’t really demand a lot, but I wanted to give him everything. So I gave him everything; my attention, my love, my thought. Even when he was not around, I was doing things for him. Shaving my legs, washing my hair, sweeping up my hair before he came over, I cleaned, I cooked for us, I bought him gifts, it was constant. But it was not bad. I feel like I should repeat that. It was not bad.
I knew he was 17. I knew he was not emotionally in a place to do the same thing for me, and I did it anyway. Only because I didn’t realize I needed it in return. I assumed I was an ever-flowing fountain of giving.
So, I made his bed. I cleaned his room. I tried to form relationships with his family. I exhausted myself for my love of him.
The other day I wrote that I never loved T- but I honestly don’t even know what love is.
I can say that I cared very deeply for that boy. That he made me smile when he walked in the room. That his passion for things sparked some sort of passion in me. I know that our break up has caused and is still causing me physical pain.
I know that I learned to sincerely care about who he was and who he aspired to be.
And I enveloped myself in him, but lost connection with my self. He was not toxic, but the way that I tuned out my intuition with him was not good for me.
I’ve learned to listen to the person I am inside, and she’s withering away. She needs to be taken care of.