Sunday, December 15, 2013


Melancholy is such a beautiful word for sadness. But sad isn't what I am. I suppose I don’t have melancholy. I feel like I’m trapped in a large empty house. Devoid of warmth and people but also empty of coldness and ghosts. It is nothingness. No fire burning in the fireplace, yet no storm raging at the door. No laughter, no harsh whispers. It feels empty. It feels like nothing.

I braced myself in the shower floor, steamy water raining down on me. I braced myself for tears and the pain of rejection and loneliness. Instead, I sat there staring at the wall as nothing came. I was not happy and I was not sad; I was empty. My feelings trickled down the drain. Like a defense mechanism, built from being overwhelmed by feelings too many times. Self-preservation kicks in, and this feels like a much crueler fate than sadness.

I have been sad many times. This is not sad. This is a black hole. I don’t know where my emotions have gone, but they have vacated my person.

The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy. 

                                     Jim Rohn                                     

Sunday, December 8, 2013

One Day in Paris

Terrible a thought that it is, I am terrified that I am going to die before I do everything that I want to do. (God forbid.)

It's strange how often I think about it. While I'm making my bed I run my hand over the embroidery on my pillowcase that says, "I'd rather be in Paris," and that's when it hovers over me like a dark cloud.

I've never been to Paris. The French language and culture were my first obsessions as a young girl. I tried to teach myself French and study up on all things Parisian. My great-grandmother's family is French. Of course they have been in the States since before the Revolutionary War but I was extremely proud of them. They were Huganouts who fled France for religious freedom.

I felt like I belonged in Paris. If I was quiet I could hear France call to me. I imagine one of my many times great-grandmother missed her homeland and I can feel that longing to return. Not permanently, but for a visit.

And like her, I fear I'll never see it.

(image via mariecatherine7)