Drinking Quiet

I'm sitting here at the keys, drinking in the silence. The boys went to bed two hours ago. My in-laws packed it in half an hour ago. Normally, I would take the opportunity to exercise (the only good time to exercise in Phoenix in the summer being between the hours of 10pm and 8am, even indoors). They've been sick, though, and my MIL is sleeping in the living room. I don't want to wake her.

So here I sit, reflecting. I haven't had much time to do that lately. In fact, that's my first thought - how fantastically appreciative I am that I can just sit and be alone. Without panicking. Without worrying. Without needing to distract myself from everything going on in my body and brain so that I don't induce a panic attack. 

(Stand By Me just came on my Pandora. How I love this song. :) )

Lately, these moments have made me cry. Like, a lot. We're talking shirt-soaking sobbing. Purging the emotional overload, I guess. I often take these moments to work through thought patterns, emotional issues that I can't seem to just let go of. Sometimes it makes me feel obsessive, but I know myself. If I can't work through things, let them go, it means I'm not done with them yet. Work remains.

Tonight, I'm feeling solid. Present. Creative. And yet I can't seem to settle myself. Not on anything productive to work on, though I have several projects to choose from. Not on a mental thread. I want to imagine. To daydream. To play. To dance. To laugh and love and be alive. To connect. With others, with myself. Just...somehow to expand on this moment of strength and softness. I want to sit back and soak it up.

I feel at peace with my issues this evening. No ghosts haunt me. No messes writhe around my feet demanding to be unraveled. There's motion in the pipeline of our lives. Change is coming; I can feel it in my very being. I could, even before that motion began. It was scary before I could see anything. Now that the canvas isn't completely blank, I'm more more at ease. I still have no idea how to build the future I want, how to mold what I have into what I need. That's still frustrating me. But tonight, it's okay. I've made progress. I'm okay with my unknowns.

Less easy to make peace with is the loneliness. I shouldn't be lonely. Our house is full. And yet I feel like loneliness is the only person who lives here. When I really stop to pay attention, that's what takes up most of my spirit.

But I don't want to think about that tonight. Tonight, I want to enjoy the imagination that's slowly coming back to me. The refilling of my creative well. I want to delight in the fact that Gooseberry and I flew to the moon on the bed the other day, and it only took a short discussion about the difference between "what really happens" and "imagining" for him to join in. I want to giggle over the number of conversations he's forced his dad to have this week between Lego dinosaurs. I've had dinosaur helpers doing the laundry, writing, sleeping. For the first time, he's having the typical kind of childhood summer - filled with games of his own making. This is new, and it's beautiful.

I still want to fix things. To share things. To find answers that will help me move forward. But for now, I'm just going to sit here and enjoy the quiet, and try hard not to miss the people my heart believes should be beside me.

For now, this quiet is enough.