But there is something under that, a deeper reason.
I am not sure how to care for myself at the moment. I mean, I can do all the normal stuff, brush my teeth and pay bills. Excellent adulting skills. But I don't know how to care about me. If I were good at that, I wouldn't look or feel the way I do. And the cottage is FOR THAT.
Will it come back to me there? Like it always did at Tawista?
When I think "what will I need out there to pull my self back together?", I draw a blank. That's the hold up. Not the cold or the thunder or even the dark.
How do I know this? Because today there was someone else to care about in that way. In the 'what might make it better that you've come apart (?)' way. This isn't seduction, I didn't get a pedicure (clearly). I just know/feel if that person opens the cottage fridge and finds a small charcuterie, he will feel like someone gave a shit about his person in a nontransactional way. That separate from the kids, the wife, the lives saved, the tries failed, all of it, he is a person with intrinsic value.
Why can't I do that for my own person anymore?
I broke something. My heart has broken arms. When I try to use it just to give enough of a shit to decide what I want for dinner, it will not work. I cannot care. Somehow, in some way, my heart threw out its own will to want for its own self.
There has been a whole lifetime we have each lived in these years. SOooo much happens. I write all the time. I feel compelled to stop and consider and describe and fathom what is happening.
But. Would I have kept this blog?
No.
I would not have fed myself my own words without him (you).
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| "thinking ft intrinsic" |
