Thoughts in my silence.

I have trouble sitting still.

When I wake in the morning, before I can do anything, I turn on the television. It's usually to protect myself from the thoughts that swam in my head to wake me up at the same hour and minute each morning.

I wake to the sound of his voice. Telling me things I already know. Whispering concepts my heart can grasp but my mind seeks to pick apart like separating chicken from the bone. It all begins to feel like its too much for me to comprehend and so I get up, feed the dog and turn on the distractions.

Still, there is all this content stirring beneath the surface.

If one were to read my journal, I would suppose they would think I was insane. It's page after page of the same topics. The same situations, through a variety of filtered lenses, each one making the image either more clear or impossibly fuzzy. My mind is my spirits Opthamologist, struggling to come up with a prescription that's going to give me the ultimate clarity.

Clarity shifts constantly. I hope that Opthamologist has the patience of Job.

This morning I sit in quiet, allowing all those swarms of incongruent thoughts to battle away at each other. I sit and wait for the ones demanding attention to swim to the surface. I grasp them and try to give them their proper audience to make the determination if they are good, or rubbish.

I received an absolute God-send this week.  A random IM from someone I consider a gift. A voxer. And I keep this person anonymous for now because I didn't ask for permission to quote. I paraphrase with hopes they view this as a thank you. During a moment of squirming, this person told me not to take any grand action. To resist the temptation to take grandiose steps in an attempt to "heal something" or to "show progression" in my life. This person assured me that right now, in this space with all my questions and all my squirming, was as beautiful a place as there ever has been. It's the space where knowing is born. And there is no reason to fear...knowing.

I have been trying to put myself back in the 'dating' waters. But I have had great anxiety about it. Why? Because my mind is full and my heart is extremely wary. I asked my sister to describe me earlier, and she said I was someone who was wary, distant and hesitant to open until I know intuitively that it's "safe." So funny that I can bare myself in this space, and yet be so cryptic in others.

As I have different people respond to my profile, I've had some nibblers that I decided to initiate correspondance with. You've seen my questions, so you can see just how much I want to know. Catch 22 is...some people have the same reservations that I do. They are hanging back, offering trite conversational exchanges without truly giving of themselves. Toe-dipping. Just like me.

I squirm when I'm not being honest. With others. With myself. I am in the dating world...but I'm not yet of a mind to date as much as I am, study and eventually make new friends. I don't have this huge desire to go out in a blaze of flowers and romantic dinners and whispered suggestions in my ear. They strike a panic in me. I am not ready to be opened yet, and certainly not just by anyone. I want intimacy that does not come with expectations attached. Like...how soon will we be fucking. Maybe it's the type I draw...but it all seems to be a race to that. Fast talk, fast chat, motorized conversations designed to get us in a one on one personal space to delve into the physical embodiment of me.

I have my reasons for hesitation. I am a package deal. I respect those who aren't, and frankly I think they have more fun. But I squirm when I try to be anything other than who I am. A woman who's heart is tied directly to what's between her thighs and the pillows nestled in her bra. I am all...the same woman. And I can't give access to the physical embodiment of her, until the emotional/spiritual/mental part of her is truly sated and knowing that this person has the capacity to give, and love, and see and be with the same voracity. It doesn't take long, I know fairly quickly what most folks are made of. I feel it, deep with in me.

Relax. I've been told. Don't take yourself so seriously, I've been advised. Don't think so much. Funny...thinking actually has very little to do with it. For me. It's that sense. The gathering of something in the small of my belly. I reach for sincerity. Depth. Patience. Emotional maturity. A knowing that permeates chatter. I have tasted that sort of connection before. Beyond sight and sound and very easy to detect. This is the sense I use. I will give others the opportunity to show me what they're made of. And I suppose part of my struggle has always been trusting that what I sense, it real to me - and a justifiable reason to sit back for a moment, and quietly observe what others are trying to say.

There are somethings I experience with immeasurable intensity. And there's no sense squirming about that. It is merely who I am.