Author Archives: kmorgan394

Today is August 17, 2014. I am alive and fairly well.

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I had to inch my way out of bed this morning. I don’t know if I’m depressed or just exhausted. It is hot in Scottsdale, Arizona. The weather can’t catch me. I’m almost always in doors or in my nicely air conditioned Forerunner.

I had no idea that kittens’ tongues are like sand paper. Grams has taken it upon herself to wash my face in the middle of the night. This cute behavior I no longer care for. Placing my hand over my face does not deter her. Eventually, I fall back asleep…

I am out of bed like a bubble escaping its wand. Only I don’t pop; rather, I fall onto the couch, gracefully of course, robe wrapped awkwardly around me and hair wild with night, to watch SuperSoul Sunday on the Oprah Network. It amazes me the amount of money her guests make with God loving them. I do respect the guests’ charisma for lighting up a room and offering people the opportunity to welcome in light.

Have I welcomed light today? I believe so. It’s simple; I smile at Grams and Annie and smooth their hair. My body is moving by feet, not inches. God has blessed me with another day of sobriety. I look forward to eating my bagel with butter and orange marmalade. Today, I will tell at least two people that I love them. And I will bury the plant that I killed. Compost for the earth. I promise God I will not bring home another plant.

Today is August 13, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I’m tired of writing about Guy. The ink in my pen gets stuck when I get to the “Y” of his name. He is a past lover who could not stay faithful like skipping from one cereal box to the next, never finding just that sought after combination of wheat and sugar.

I am actually enjoying my single hood right now. My time is my own. I get to go out with whomever I want for coffee or a meal. I’m not lonely because I have writing and reading. My two kittens, Grams and Annie, keep me in hysterics. They’re sisters and they truly love each other. They play together al the time. They sleep wrapped around each other. I’m glad that they didn’t get split up at the Humane Society, and that I brought them home, together, even though they’ve taken to batting at my face in the middle of the night.

It’s peaceful in my house. Quiet. I no longer feel like I’m moving through thick air. I feel lighter, like a purse that has been emptied of all its change. I never knew I could be this strong alone. I am the horse without the saddle. My head is high in my six-feetness. I see what’s ahead of me in the next minute, and it is good. Breathe in, breathe out, and love.

Today is August 8, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I realized that my last blog, i was not well. Out of habit, I typed well. Today I am truly well.

A man approached me in the library. He was a scraggle of someone else. His pants barely circling his hips. Skinny arms reached through sleeves the circumference of donuts. I imagined his lanky hand slipping the one misplaced strand of hair behind his ear which was a lighter black than the color of his neck. Maybe he hadn’t bathed. He wanted to know where the adult movie section was. I thought, he didn’t just ask me that, did he? I said, “do you mean pornography?” “Yes,” he says with no apology, no hesitation like the sock that hangs loose at his ankle. I tell him we don’t have porno here. He asks me where he can find some. What attracted such a man to me? Maybe he liked the way I was tall and could see over crowds. “I don’t know where you find porn,” I say. He thanks me, leaving me with judgement. I don’t like the way he walks.

Today is August 6, 2014. I am alive and well.

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My schizophrenia has kicked back in. It is a small child who needs my attention and grabs my hand. The voices are telling me to say very inappropriate things at work; things that would get me fired. I very much need my job. I’ve been with the library five years in October.

The small child is not of me, but is of other. She tugs at my hand so softly that no one else can see my hand move. No one else can see her. I do know this. I see her as a shadow and know in bright light she will be gone. And she is, she is gone when I pull the blinds in my study, allowing light to force its way upon me. Light forces its way upon me when there is something in my life I don’t want to look at.

I don’t want to look at the fact that I miss Guy. I want to keep him in my life forever, but from a distance. Who says a person can’t be friends with their ex? But Guy is more that just an ex. Do I want to have friends in my life who lie to me? The answer is no, but then I think, Guy is different. I am okay loving him even though he lies to me.

This line of thinking will not set well with my friends who want the best for me. For now, I bring an umbrella with me. The umbrella can only work for so long to shade me before light breaks through, and I act accordingly.

Today is August 2, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I’m allowing grief to paralyze me. I am sleeping too much and writing too little. But I am not going to have a break down and wind up in the hospital, and I definitely am not going to drink over his leaving me. He has been gone for three and a half months; one and a half months of this time I have known he was never coming back. It still baffles me that he let his lack of courage influence his decisions. I mean, who leaves with just a back pack and nothing else? Who gives everything they’ve owned for years, to include socks and jock straps, to the Salvation Army? Thirteen plastic garbage bags later, and he did.

Life has changed radically since he told me he was never coming back. My friends and God have offered me the strength of their shoulders and the curve of their feet. I have not walked alone and I am not bent over with too much to bare. My health is better than it’s ever been.

I seek solace in God and am offered vastness. Grief is only a single stone on a sheet of water. My friend gave me a quartz which is heavy in my hand. Four pounds of crystal. I float on the sheet of water, the crystal on my belly and am lit be the sun, and later shadowed by the moon. My love for all is complete in this minute. No one has taken anything from me. I am simply offered myself, and myself is good, is strong, has vision that will outlive the sting of a failed relationship.

Today is July 13, 2014. I am alive and well.

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I hear the wind in my home. It was a cyclone of activity in preparation of my niece moving in. Now it is a whisper like tissue landing on table tops. My niece will move in in September. She is 18. I expect the walls will buzz with her presence. She has already hung a poster in her room that says Charlie in glitter with her basketball shirt number.

Life without Guy is still odd. His presence is as real to me as the poets on my shelves, beginning with A and ending with Wright. I imagine I hear the commercial from the other room advertising eating Shredded Wheat as a way to increase your sex drive.

My next lover will not be a television addict. My next lover will opt for reading. It is good that I even think there will be a next lover. Somewhere in the distance there is a man who will reach to touch me and will come away with clean laundry smelling of sandalwood. My life with be clean of Guy and I will be able to reach forward.

Today is July 11, 2014. I am alive and well.

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My brain is not getting sick over the devastation of losing Guy. I am amazed at this. My schizophrenia hangs in the rafters of a beautiful cathedral with lots of stained glass windows. It is not wrapping itself around my chest, causing me to lose breath. I have never been healthier.

I am glad for the things in my life that I do. Glad for cardio on a treadmill. Glad to have workout with a friend. Glad to read and write. Glad to work at the library. I love watching my kittens play. They are losing their feral identity and actually coming up to me. Grams, named after my grandmother, played for an hour in my lap.

Live may be moving slowly, but it is moving on. I can delight in small things again. I bought a bouquet of flowers with one bent sunflower in the middle. It reminded me of light bowed in greeting.

Today is July 3, 2014. I am alive and well despite things.

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One of my friends said to use my sadness and grief to fuel my writing. I feel paralyzed rather than inspired. How can someone go from loving and adoring you to another woman in the matter of hours. Guy did. His texts were I love you, you are my rock, you are amazing…and then the phone call ending it all.

Much has happened since that phone call. I brought home two kittens from the Humane Society this past Friday. And my friends helped me rid myself of all Guy’s things. I urged Guy to change his mind about not coming and getting his things to include two dressers and a closet full of clothes. He said he didn’t have the courage to face me. He said to donate all of it to Goodwill. 13 trash bags later, and it’s gone.

I also had some furniture taken away to make room for my niece, Charlie, to move in. She is moving in in August. I had to move my desk into my bedroom and swap a queen for a twin bed. This is the first time writing in my new digs.

Grief is the color of a plum. Grief is the smell of burnt toast and wet pavement in a sun so bright it is startling to step out the front door. Grief is running water that reaches a dam and stops, curling back in on itself. Grief is the night with no moon and sounds of airplanes arriving home. I will walk through this, sometimes sloppily, sometimes gracefully, but through like my kittens tip toeing around framed pictures on my desk, occasionally knocking something to the floor. I picked up my little toy wizard from the floor this morning. Tomorrow morning maybe it will be God. I will kneel and feel God on my shoulders, broadening them and strengthening them. All will be well.

Today is June 26, 2014. Despite things, I am alive and well.

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I have a broken heart. I don’t know how to write about it, but thought I would try. I don’t want to come off sounding like a victim, or as someone filled with self pity. Guy has been gone two months for work. He told me a couple of days ago that he wanted to start over in California with a new job and a new woman. He told me was never coming back to Arizona.

It’s amazing to me that he doesn’t want his stuff, to include all his clothes. He said he doesn’t have the courage to face me. Yes, he broke up with me over the telephone. We had been together for thirteen years, not counting the other two times he left me for another woman. You would think I would have learned.

I loved him with all of me. He has taught me that I am very capable of loving another human being. All this sounds trite, but I really do mean it. I think love is as powerful as grief. I have many people in my life to love. I am capable of experiencing grief and not getting mentally sick over it. This will be my first time I have suffered grief and not wound up in a psychiatric hospital.

Air is a thing of beauty. I breathe deeply. The sun is not blinding; I can see quite clearly. The day will bot be lost to me crying in a corner of my condo. I will be joyous today. Unlike years ago, I am addicted to life. I want to show up for what happens next. Give me a dollar and I’ll hand you a hundred pennies. Each penny is someone I love or someone I haven’t met yet to love. The weight of them is magnificent. Tiny pebbles are easily found in the landscape outside my door. I feel the weight of them also. It is good to have both feet on the ground heading north toward my car in which I will drive to work, grateful to have a job that I love and colleagues who radiate.

Today is June 21, 2014. I am alive and well.

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What if reality is an illusion and we are really walking around in a dream? It seems to me if this were true, we wouldn’t age. There would be no time. There are many books, though, that spend hundreds of pages making a case for reality as an illusion.

What would we gain if moving in a dream? As far as my brain can think this morning, I say nothing. Not only would we not age, but there would be no health issues. And we know that we do age and there are many health issues. Maybe if in a dream, we would be able to relax more. Feel the warmth of the shower beating on our back anytime we need to. Smell the soap. Revel in the steam.

Is God true reality or a part of the dream? I believe God to be true reality. I know this seems paradoxical. I have never physically touched God. God has never physically touched me. But I know God to be there just as I know my little dogs love me. God exists in the unconscious and conscious mind. I can sense something beyond thought.

Consider love. Isn’t love beyond thought? My niece and two nephews visited me at the library, my place of work, yesterday. Before I could think, I was enveloped in love. Adrenalin pumped through me and the feeling left me floating as if in a dream. Dream meets reality and the reality is love. I believe God to be love.

I think I have challenged my brain enough this morning. It is the weekend. I hope you all have a wonderful couple of days.