herlucidlife

I’m turning thirty in eight days. Never really grasping the concept of celebrating myself, I’ve always looked for other people to do it. Up until the age of fifteen my mother would throw a sleepover for my friends and I. She would organize all the games, movies and snacks. My friends loved her and so did I. At the age of fifteen, no longer wanting sleepovers she still got the family together for dinner birthdays. My mom always made my born day special. I never needed to do anything because she made sure it was covered. Even in college my birthday felt like a privilege and a reward. She’d send any gifts and label them one, two, three. So through the day I’d have a gift to open. 

Yet, as the years went on I struggled with celebrating myself and always felt like the smaller things were more joyous. Thankfully some birthdays friends took it upon themselves to honor me. I’m grateful for those moments with special people. I’ve never been by myself on my birthday. Oddly, I’m excited. Excited to honor myself in this new city. In the middle of the work day I received a call from a four six nine number. Thinking it was Z, my heart dropped when it was AT&T. There are days when I think I’ve made headway in my healing then I’m shocked back to reality. There’s a hole so big. I felt almost embarrassed for answering the phone during my shift, I would’ve never done that for anyone and anything else. At the off chance it was him nothing mattered in that moment. My face twisted into aguish, disturbed to hear an unrecognizable voice. I hung immediately.

The rest of this beautiful day had some gray added to the blues. Oddly, I feel more mentally stimulated and relaxed at work. Off and on talking to my co-workers, relaxing more and more, it feels like a safe space. Have you ever wanted to cry but nothing comes out? I want and need to stop thinking about it, even without focus my heart hurts all on its own. Genuinely looking for understanding. I don’t want him to answer the question, though sometimes it feels like I need him too. I want God to answer, why? In time it’ll all make sense, unfortunately time isn’t now. It doesn’t matter what I want or if I’d give him another shot just to be friends because reality no longer includes me. The conversations in my head, spoken to a ghost mean nothing because everything points to nothing happening.

The worst part is thinking I’d found someone different for him to be just like everyone else. The disguise was just better. I’m bored with the thought of him, so I’ll sit and process until the pain leaves. These pages are my medicine. Once full in the mind, some ease has come into play. This God given gift has saved my life many times over.