leaving the aftermath

the aftermath is the hardest. harder even than the work it takes to make a relationship move forward. hardest when the aftermath doesn't allow at all for things to be the same. even though i know they can't ever be the same, i still want that same level of connection, not these walls that are suddenly between us and insurmountable. i want the level playing that once lay open between us, where i could look you in the eye and know where i stood; when i could simply reach out, feel you near and bask in the warmth and comfort of you. it took me a minute but i was starting to get there with you.

now there is a coldness, a hesitation each time we speak. the ease and flow is gone. after talking to you the tears come and the wound is re-opened with salt and lemon rubbed right in stirring up waves of gritty pain. the rawness is still so very much there.

i keep asking myself, is it worth this pain to remain your friend, to even try? i don't know. there is a part of me that hopes so, because when i was with you i was growing in ways unimagined and i believe we can still have those conversations. at least i hope we can again.

in the meantime i am left alone with the aftermath, the heart that is heavy, the tears that come at inopportune times, and the struggle at times to even smile. i don't like this; this is not me.

i used to say that i wanted the old me back whenever this would happen, but not this time. i want the new me, the me that will be on the other side of this aftermath. the me that will have learned yet another lesson, carry another battle scar. the me with the clearer vision of who i am and what i want. the me that can smile, be wise and calm, and look confidently forward.  amazingly, i don't want to go back to the old me this time. i don't want to keep playing it safe or stop in this place. i need, i want to leave this aftermath and get to the other side.

and so i pick up my feet one at a time, forcing them to move me forward, asking god to help me so i don't have to force it. keeping my chin up and not looking down. i don't want to see where i am. i want to see where i'm headed. i understand the whole living in the moment and being present, but i need to see where i'm headed right now, instead of what's here. and where i'm headed is good, exciting, and worth this aftermath through which i'm moving. god is in the journey.