Old Friends (another Y) and citation machine

While new friends are heaven sent, I think old friends are precious gems or bejeweled gifts that appear when you need them most. Y came over last night so I could help him academicize his paper (he is up for tenure in UP) called “Screenwalking and Masssacre Communication.” He needed to get his citation straight or else his department was going to have shit fit. Anyway, between visiting citation machine and wanting to go to Mini Stop to buy some chips, we got to talking. And really, there was just so much joy in reconnecting with an old friend, particularly this old friend. We talked about relationships, affirming what we have chosen in life, our struggles, our blessings, and not feeling pressured by society’s mold of becoming wives, mothers, partners, or feeling too old to pursue what we love to do.

discourse/dialogue/musings/life

It’s about the passion of what we are creating, not the hype.
It’s about refueling and having our own fuel when the time is right, not when it is too late.
It’s about trust and having choices (and not choosing what is expected of women) and losing and finding ourselves that makes us who we are.
It’s about feeling good about where we are, what we’ve accomplished, how far we’ve come, no matter how lost we’ve felt. Who we have found along the way and who hurt us.
It’s about the partners we choose, the back stories, compassion, space, and balance.
It’s about long distance relationships, plans and communication.
It’s about friendships, acceptance, honesty (brutal or otherwise) and the slippery slope of missing who we are to who we have become.
It’s about finding ourselves at the right place and time.
It’s knowing when we lose ourselves — when we choose it.
It’s about writing that great story when the great story is ready to be written.
It’s about the rage, the pain, the ‘dusa,’ the secrets and the sleepwalking.
Only to find ourselves awake, totally not alone, and ready to love like we have never loved before.

Beginning with ourselves and those we choose to call our beloved.

I did it.
I did it for a day and didn’t die.
I didn’t think I would die.
There is joy in many other places.

Don’t shut me out or shut down.
I am here aren’t I, he said.
I told L, please don’t get mad, that I thought we had lost you..that I lost you, somehow – this he added hesitantly.

I have no excuse, I thought.
That was me. This is me.

Now here we are.

Thank you for Y.
his kindness, the time, the dialogue and the affirmation that where we are, is where we are meant to be.
That it is exactly where we are supposed to be.
And that there is joy amidst the struggle.
That the breakthrough is happening as I write.
And that he has found me again; while helping him with citation machine.

I drank my beer. He spilled his.
I spoke candidly.
He told me a secret.

The night ended in Mini-Stop where I bought chocolate soy milk and him, a burger and some cardboard looking pastry.

Today I am grateful for old friends who understand and tell you the truth with love and kindness.
Friends who explain the power of ‘babe.’
Friends who affirm that what you have is real.
Because that is what you know in your heart.

The castle is as easy to create as the button. (twice).
It’s that easy.

It’s still silent on the homefront.
But that’s okay.
Silence does not mean doom.
Silence just means silence.
Or Prison Break.
And that’s perfectly alright.

It will happen because he loves me.
Moreso, because I love myself.
There is nothing to worry about.

I am most grateful that I feel this today.
With authenticity.
There is no waiting.

Thanks, Y.
For understanding.
Completely with no judgment or bias.

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