A Little Lonely Melody

I've been seeing some strange things in myself lately. It begins with humming. I caught myself at it all day today, and it's been building inside me for the last few months. I've been so lost over the last year that I had forgotten everything that I ever was to myself—my best friend, a comrade, a beautiful woman of many passions. Somewhere along the course of the last few years I lost all of my passions. They all trickled into the dusty hourglass of time because everyone had been telling me they were worthless. My own father basically told me that my dreams were shit last year. Not in those exact terms, and maybe he didn't think they truly embodied shit, but they sure smelled a lot like it. He told me that they didn't and wouldn't make me any money in my future. They weren't secure enough for his tastes. It was at that point when I started killing myself, and where I started to slowly die on the inside, all relatively unbeknownst to myself. I spent the last two-three years of my life in denial, but it wasn't until last year that I truly lost everything that I ever was. It wasn't until last year that I had the last thing I hoped for taken away from me, and my voice went silent.


I was a very brave little girl. Nothing phased me. My mother is always telling me stories about how my teachers would mention in student-teacher conferences that, "the girl knows who she is." I never fell prey to the idiosyncrasies of youth. I never, ever, tried to conform to anybody. If anything, they were always conforming to me—jealous that I didn't seem to need all the trappings they did to feel human, alive, and individualistic. I was a bossy kid. I admit that, but it's only because nobody ever had the guts to stand up to me. If I said that we should do something, they never put forth any ideas as to what. I always tended to have to come up with the plans. Yeah, it went to my head a lot, but I was always pretty nice.


Anyway, that little girl could do anything. She had a semi-crappy life, but she could do anything. She knew that what others thought of her didn't matter. She knew that the only person in the world who had to love her was her, and that as long as she was okay with who she was and the decisions she made, she would always be satisfied with herself. She knew that being able to look in the mirror every day without flinching away in shame was the only thing she had to worry about. She knew everything.


It's hard to be in a position in life where you realize that you once knew everything that you gave up on later  because others told you to, and because of the harshness of the world.


Things I've had to reteach myself lately are shameful in their simplicity. Because of my mother, I've had to reteach myself that skin color is just a pigment, that religion doesn't automatically make a person good or bad, and that my worth does not depend upon whether or not I have a boyfriend screwing me so that I can give her grandchildren. (I don't really want children, by the way. She hates me for this. Legitimate hatred some days.) I've also had to reteach myself that my parents may not get along, but that doesn't mean that my future relationships will all end up like theirs. I've had to comfort myself that, just because they hate each other and I've never heard either of them say "I love you" doesn't mean that I'll end up that way. I've had to remind myself that I know the way I love, and that one day I'll find somebody who appreciates my past and who doesn't make me live in it. I'll find a man who isn't like my father (albeit, he's a good guy, he's over-controlling and doesn't know how to talk to someone, and ignores the world around him rather than deal with it when it comes to relationships) and loves/treats me the way I deserve to be loved/treated.


When I was a little girl I understood that accepting somebody for everything they were would get you a friend in anybody in the world. When I was a little girl I understood that judging somebody and assuming the end of a situation would just end with you in a very bad place.


I understood that trust was in a hug, love was in a kiss, and understanding was in a smile, and also that these three things coincided. I understood that there was no shame in asking for help, and that trusting somebody was a good thing...because you have to trust somebody to be trusted in return. I understood that the only way to get an answer was to ask for one, and sometimes you wouldn't like the answer, but that was okay...because at least now you knew. If shit hit the fan, you just moved forward instead of caring about it. You either fixed it or forgot about it.


Last, but definitely not least, I understood that my passions were what made me. I understood that trusting myself and doing things that made me happy were what kept me happy. I understood that doing things that I didn't want to do would make me sad and frustrated—I understood....I understood that if I didn't do at least some things for myself, I would always be in a very unhappy place.


I lost all of this knowledge over the last few years, but this year, especially, was bad. This year I stopped believing in love. This year I stopped drawing, I stopped writing, I stopped reading, and I stopped hoping. This year I forgot how much I loved the sun and it's warmth, I forgot that I loved my cat and my family, and I forgot that I'd ever loved anything...because I didn't believe in it anymore. I was a very dismal person for a long, long, longgggggggg while. Then I got my heart broken, and anything that I had left of my old self was just bloody gone.


I camped out in my basement and didn't come out for two months. I didn't eat, I didn't watch T.V., I didn't talk to anybody...I didn't even cry. I didn't know if it was night or day, and I didn't particularly care. I had stopped doing anything of any value to anyone, including myself.


And that brings us back to the beginning. That's why it was so weird to me today to catch myself humming. I wasn't humming anything in particular, I was just humming the sounds of my soul. That soft, warm, and rolling, lullaby with a beat that stirs the bones from sleep...gently—like the waves of a slow-moving river against the banks of its shores. Something warmed by the sleepy sun. Golden and full of life. Reminiscent of old Egyptian tales and times full of magic. That's what my soul sounds like. I haven't heard the sound of my soul since I was a very little girl.


For a time, I thought my ex was singing that song back to me...that's part of the reason I loved him so much. It occurs to me now that he wasn't. He came close...but it was more of a moody-blues version of my strong, luscious, twining beats. Every once in awhile he got the melody right, but it wasn't ever quite what I wanted to hear, or needed to hear. I do thank him though. And I thank God. He brought him into my life so that he could sing back to me a little bit of the song I'd lost so long ago. He reminded me of the base tune, while I was left to find the rest of it on my own. Now. Now that I know that...I am completely healed. Not just from my loss of him, but from my loss of everything. Apparently somebody had to come into my life and intervene so that everything else could be okay. It's too bad that he was one that would just walk in for a time, leave footprints, and then leave...but that'll be okay now. His footprints will always be here in my heart, like the footprints of astronauts will always be on the moon, but I don't need him or his presence anymore.

If this sings to you, then you've heard the sound of my soul.

I am still looking for somebody to complete my tune...make it more robust and give me a harmony. Not an exact one, but certainly closer than the one my ex had, and certainly closer to my heart.

I'm glad I hummed today. And I'm glad I can finally see everything again.

~A Little Bit of Lonely Wisdom

"But if you love and must have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody into the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully."

~Kahlil Gibran