The Trouble with the Night Before the Night Before Christmas

Some nights like the night before the night before Christmas can find me searching for answers. Not necessarily for the big huge important (in the traditional sense) questions, but more the ones that would only affect the corners of my heart I try not to touch anymore. 

But some nights, like this eve before Christmas Eve, shine a light on old scars begging me to remember them. What happened to that boy who once proposed to me but then left me behind? He goes by a new name, but I'd still recognize those blue eyes, the voice like velvet and that Hebrew tattoo over his heart. Time may change us into strangers, but he will always be mine in memory. 

Some nights I wish I'd made different choices or that I'd fought harder or paid more attention, but then a whisper reminds me that the end came when I was too distracted and broken by grief to truly care for anyone. Pain may not be a right excuse, but I don't think it (or its lack) would've changed the outcome. He was always walking away toward the next version of himself. 

Maybe some night, years from now, when this scar begs to be seen and remembered, there will be a new chapter to the story. Perhaps some Christmas Eve eve in the future will find him happy and healthy and recovered from his own scars and finally finally the real version of who he was always meant to be. 

Some nights I just need to empty my brain out so I can sleep again. 

Bits

A friend of mine has been talking about panic attacks a great deal lately. I can't claim to be an expert or to know the depths of frustration and stress people who have full-blown panic attacks deal with, but I get the feelings of terror and hopelessness that can overwhelm and knock you down. 

Every so often I'll find myself doing some completely mundane activity only to suddenly have my brain go in a spiral of pain. I've had this happen a couple times this week. The aggravating part is that the trigger tends to be something happy that plays connect the dots till it reaches the frayed ends of an old broken memory or promise. Those broken promises and lost pathes still manage to get the best of me sometimes. 

Christmas time is hard. I love Christmas. I love the fact that people tend to breathe easier, that it's totally acceptable for me to sing hymns at work, that Christmas lights twinkle everywhere and I can spoil the people I adore with immunity. 

But there are times when I'm in the midst of the joy of this season where I'll see the gap that use to hold something special. There are decorations I use every year that feel bittersweet since the love that gave them to me has left me behind. I try not to let myself focus on it for long, but sometimes you miss what you miss. 

So I guess I'll just say merry Christmas, baby. I know we couldn't make it last because you had a different universe to run, but sometimes my mind flickers and longs for a time when I was the moon caught in your orbit. I hope you still find the magic. 

I hope I do too.