Creating Space in Practice

I will fight for you but I will not chase you,

I will love you but I won't read your mind.

I want you to have room to love me on your terms

because you do it well and fully.

I want you to have room to receive the love I offer

because I know the difference when you touch me.

I want to be a safe haven for you but not the only one.

Likewise I will keep a precious space for me alone

and advocate for you to have your own.

I will give you more physical space

so I may have more emotional space in your life.

I wish you loose lips and the freedom

to tell me what you need and to kiss me.

I strive for continued loving communication with you

so we both might be crusaders for our dreams

protectors, challengers, teachers and partners

however we choose to define and live those terms.

The last handful of days have offered beautiful reminders of space and expansion. And where to find support I need. Goddamn, can't forget that one.

Sometimes the rug gets yanked out from under us but other times we're the ones who do the yanking. Space and compassion in the name of non-neediness, freedom, and trust. In all my decisions thus far, I'm surprised by the ease I feel, the groundedness. The clarity. There it is, the clarity.

There's a lesson I don't want to forget: uncertainty does not mean lack of clarity. Just as certainty does not equal clarity.

I have been the person who grips things and people too tightly, opting to fill time and space in hopes of feeling and gaining... something. If quality is suffering, my solution has been to sweep in quantity as quickly as possible. I'm that way with food, with intimacy. Those go hand in hand for those of us who struggle with eating disorders.

But I made a choice this time, a different choice, and I'm still reeling. The terror is there, the fear, the grasping for control. I see all this and accept it the best I can when those voices are loudest in their wailing. There is space, there is room, I hear you. I hear you, I hear you, I honor your voices. But there, too, is the clarity, the gratitude, and my surprise. My surprise that I am aware enough to have made that choice for a positive benefit. Loving benefit. My surprise that old patterns of co-dependency and neediness met a break in the road. One day at a time, one decision at a time. Changes happen in seconds and in breaths, and patterns build over thousands of breaths. Awareness in practice, not just in theory.

Holy shit.

“Letting go,” as the practice of loosening a vice-like grip, allows us to breathe again, to fill our lungs with something life-giving. Now, the implications of this have sent me into other states of panic as I continue trying to find work and places to sleep (and shower). But that's the other funny thing about loosening a grip. I allow access to deeper intimacy, to deeper vulnerability, other connections and greater support.

I'm never as alone as I think I am. Sometimes I like being alone. In fact, most times I crave it. But when I peer out of the cave, I may be surprised by how many friendly faces greet me.