born on the day of oscillation

when i was little, i hated bedtime.

there is nothing unusual about that.
but what was and still is the most
challenging aspect of my existence
can be mined from this antagonism.

the concept of end, of closing the page,
of stopping action, and accepting change
toward being restful, peaceful even ---
goes instinctively against everything
i feel in my body and heart
about why i am here.

i am one of those over-inspired weirdos
that loves being, playing, building, laughing,
loving, creating, nurturing --- hell, even
fighting, struggling, crying, stumbling so
wholeheartedly that the concept of this
"ending," even if for a day, brings
such overwhelming sadness that
i cannot breathe or speak.

you might be rolling your eyes at this point
and that's ok.
i hardly ever talk about this because it
makes people very uncomfortable and annoyed.
"do some yoga.  try meditation.
remember reflection brings new energy."
and i appreciate you saying that.
but it's not that simple for me.

containing this well spring of passion
is like trying to embrace a supercell tornado
and sometimes i get so angry at myself
for feeling this way that i try to attack
it too with total apathy, fear, bottles of wine,
---- any myriad of colorful distractions

but no matter what I do, this feeling relentlessly rises.
and as i paddle out into the day
the crests of ideas, beauty, imagination,
and possibility draw me further out
into the prismatic sea, past the break, until I find
the angle and force of the perfect wave
to bring me into something new.
over and over this happens
like riding a great set and
my energy matches and meets the invitation.

until it doesn't and i am so fucking exhausted
that i crash brutally.  i miss a sign, i lose intuition,
i take a drink or 4 to calm down and then it hits me
and sends me to the bottom - the abyss of darkness,
sand packs my nostrils, flailing arms and legs render useless.
i am alone and it is terrifying.
i doubt every part of myself that started the quest,
that believed in my capacity to be so infinite
and i retreat away from love and into self loathing.

i can empathize deeply with those who have
been so consumed by creation that it was their destruction -
we all have our favorite handful of
artists, musicians, scientists, philosophers -
we deeply admire and connect to.
as they lost their minds, hearts, and lives
in this manic/depressive scenario,
we mourned their inability to find a balance.

so what does a person like me do
who loves being alive so much that
she fights, screams, and cries at bedtime
still at 35 years old?

i don't know.  but let me know if you do.

lovers for love

Do you ever do this?  You sit down on the couch feeling like shit about your world come bedtime and then the guilt hits. Like, “there are people way worse off than you asshole – put on your big girl pants, find your happy, and get over your damn self.”  I just did that whole mantra right there and it wasn’t so great.

Now I'm wondering where you go in your limbo moments?  Cause I’ll tell you where I go – I look up old lovers on Facebook and see what they are up to.

Now, the self-empowered, rebel Julia will regret sharing this vulnerability with you.  But I think there is something here for us both.  When I am feeling scared, unsure, -- at odds, -- I find center staring into the faces of men I’ve fucked wholeheartedly.  Ok, so it’s actually just one guy (“faces” sounds more balanced and poetic) but honestly he is all I need. 

Stick with me.  This isn’t about a 30 something mom retreating into the hells of cyber nostalgia.  In fact, when I look into his dark eyes and thick smirk, I feel no sparkle in my groin or escapist desire for play.  But I do get excited.  I remember what it was like to march my ass onto a train eastbound and ride the zephyr wind with every bit of sex, power, selfhood, and femininity I embodied to freely gift to this chosen sir.  I remember what it was like to say to myself, -- yes, I deserve love -- hot, wild, across the country, passion for no reason other than to confirm my belief in love.  In myself.  And that love was freedom. Unbridled freedom.

Sometimes in my day to day, -- my kid’s cough, my partner’s absence, in big bills, work, daily chaos, changing schedules and monogamy I simply forget that love is freedom.  And I feel guilty because I am struggling to see love smiling at me in all I’ve built.  So I look at my old lover on that flat screen and say, hi there.  Hi love.  I am here.  You are too.  So I ask you as I ask me, how can we make love free right now as a 30 something?  How can we free up love in our lives – in the parts of our lives that aren’t sexy? -- How can I learn to look in the mirror and see what I find in the lines on his face?

I believe.  I love.  I am.  That’s the mantra I'm growing.