give up the ghost

It's been raining on and off for most of the day, and I sit in bed now with the sound of rain hitting my roof and many thoughts swirling through my head. This weekend I saw many, many people I love.

I want to say right away that things are mostly fine.

I think that statement can be true, while it's also true that there is a heaviness that has been resting on me for some time, which I have noticed possesses a certain ebb & flow in its intensity.

It can also be said that sometimes my inclination to write comes from a place that needs to process...or make sense of things...or just acknowledge the absolute joy and terror and raw beauty and pain of being human.

So go away now if you can't handle another post about feelings.

here's a picture to give you a break from words

A few things happened this weekend:

- I spent more time processing and grieving with my roommate. Our conversations have been difficult and important. I am glad we have each other.

- I saw a former love and dear friend who is in the process of transitioning from male to female. Nearly two years have passed since we last saw each other, and much has changed (clearly!!) Being with her brought many old emotions to the surface, as well as many new. I have much more to process with this one, but something interesting comes to the surface: as much as things have changed, the minute we were together I found that thread that has always connected us as strong as ever. And now I miss her and long to be around her more (and will get the chance to). I didn't realize the thread was unbroken OR that I missed our friendship, until I saw her - changed as we both are since our last encounter. I didn't realize how I was lacking the closeness that is unique to the friendship I share with this person, and now I am hungry for it.

- I went to a housewarming party for some friends I have nearly lost because of my fear of running into the friend that connects us:my former love(r) a person I don't have words for. I arrived late to the party, fearful he would be there. Instead, shortly after I arrived, a conversation with a few people led to the fact that he had moved away, just the previous day in fact, to start a new job in the west. He had moved away. He was gone. The news, I was shocked to discover, was like a punch to the gut. I haven't seen this individual in nearly a year, and yet the knowledge that it's possible I won't see him again was surprisingly painful. I spent the remainder of the party in a dreamlike state, trying not to think over and over again he's gone, he's gone, he's... 

- All of these things filled me with nostalgia and again (like earlier this week) sent me looking for the remnants of past loves. I thought of two women I have recently and not-so-recently cared about, and my heart was full of pain and regret that bridges are so burned that I an unable to call either of them, even to just ask how are you? This weekend I longed to know how everyone I've ever loved is. I longed to apologize. I longed to acknowledge our shared humanity and thus human errors. I longed for fresh starts.

This weekend I was hit in the head and heart with slightly altered versions or unexpected discoveries about past loves. One was not who she used to be; one was just plain gone.

I was confronted with how much things can change and stay exactly the same. How we can think we have moved on from something, and then it shows back up (in one form or another) and the presence of it takes your breath away. How the memory of someone and who they were to you can be more haunting then the reality of them.

The question of the weekend was: do we ever really get over someone we used to love? 

And, what is getting over and moving on, anyway?