an apology

after i wrote out that whole post, after i wrote about the things that are bringing me peace and enjoyment, i got angry. i became angry and hostile about the nerve of all those things, those plans, written down. i became confused about how to handle being in the moment and still thinking- musing- about what could possibly, maybe, come to pass.

after i wrote it all down, after i experienced excitement and happiness about those things, i crammed my face full of shit foods. obviously i had some kind of emotional issue with some or all of what i wrote. what? i'm not really sure. maybe it's the fear of being free. maybe it's the fear of being let down after a cushy pink-cloud honeymoon period of feeling free. maybe it's the fear of the true work of being free, the work of constantly breaking the chains i impose on my own self. it's all those things and a million more, but i can pretty confidently think that the bottom line is fear.

not only do i need to accept the things that i enjoy thinking about, but i need to accept that i am scared. i don't even think i need to know what i'm scared of, that's probably irrelevant. if i accept it, i think each item of fear will reveal itself over time and space.

you know, i've never accepted that i was afraid of anything. i never thought i was scared. i never thought i was needy or lonely or rejected...but i am all those things.

a charmed life. that's what i thought i had, what everyone thought i had. it was the dead baby that shattered that charmed image for everyone else. i now know in my heart that *a charmed life* is a prison. my dead baby, my dead daughter, her existence, the pain that is in me, is chipping away at the walls and letting some air and light and fire and earth and LIFE in.

it feels funny and creepy sometimes to think this way. it sounds all new-age bullshit. it sounds ridiculous and...why am i so at odds with myself? maybe this is some of the fear seeping in. maybe the hard-ass practical no-bullshit way is all built out of the fear i never accepted. i am rebelling inside. i am scared of giving up the walls, the prison. i was forced to face all this shit when my baby died and there's no turning back now...IF...i really want to live.

i think i really want to live. i think it's a choice that i have to make every moment. i think all these thoughts and feelings are of me, but are not me. i can't control it, but i can choose not to hold on. i can choose to stay open for the moment, for each new thing.

i have an apology in my heart for myself. i accept.