Tuesday, May 20, 2014


I will not let my past dictate my present. My losses do not define me. 

It's as though I've been burdened by a load of bricks on my sternum, weighing down my chest. This is what it is to have a heavy heart. Each burden has a name: sorrow, dejection, regret, loneliness, and doubt. As I progress westward, they’re slowly being unloaded. Perhaps by the time I make it to the coast the pressure will be off. I'd finally be free to breathe again.

Though I long for a hit of blissful happiness I don't know how to safely feel it any more. The possibility of plunging into emotional peaks and valleys, high-highs and low-lows, feels too great a risk. I've been trying to flat line. I've weighted my wayward heart, trying to keep it in place. I'm a bit terrified to relinquish my emotional compression. I ought to know better. This heart is a wonderer and a wanderer. She's searching. She needs to soar to better have a viewpoint of where to nest. Happiness is uplifting. I can find my way with far more success when I’m up.

The road sign says Hope is 25 kilometers away. I can’t wait to find it. Nightfall’s shadow has gathered by the highway’s edge. Everything will be a bit brighter when I get there. The exit sign is well lit, pointing me to what I could use a good dose of. Instead I pass by—not stopping. Or, is it Hope passing me by? I’m not sure I’ll ever find it again. I’m headed for the edge of the country and don’t have time to linger.

I enter Vancouver by midnight. Is this the darkest hour or the start of a new day? It’s hard to tell, driving in the dark, when I feel like breaking down. I’m exhausted in every way. The travel almost done, the rest is to come. Endings are really the start of the next story. I want to believe this is where I once again begin.

Settling into my lodgings, I take in the past few months’ disappointments. I’d like to sleep it all off. Can I dream away my doubts? Slumber off my sorrows? It’s time to shut off the bedroom light, and try to shut off my mind. My restless thoughts should just give it a rest already. I want to be here, present. I’ve come so far. I’m miles away. It takes me so much focus to fall asleep but I eventually get there.

Morning arrives, filtering into my room with tranquil, creamy light. I dress in like colours, to reflect my conscious attempt at a sunny outlook. A day spent wandering aimlessly about, with no agenda, is precisely what is needed. Walking along the seawall I can see how far I’ve come. Moving forward means walking away. Holding on to the past will only hold me back, so I let go. I feel my remaining heart-weights cast off. This un-anchoring sets me free to coast along. I shall carry on.

With my recovered light-heartedness, I find space to fill myself with improvement, and only optimism will do. Hope comes before Vancouver. I thought I’d left it behind. It’s a delight to discover it has accompanied me upon on my arrival­—an unexpected, but much welcome, companion.