Breathe Again.

Three weeks ago I made a pact.  I promised to minimize my availability and my reliance on the people around me (especially men).  In making myself less tangible I would have to a) end all relations that were-just that- relations b) cut off my sponsor entirely and even c) do away with all those late night phone conversations I find so necessary before bed.  Something about the depth of a man's voice and mind at this hour, when you're both settled in bed- to tired to bullshit.

As much as I enjoyed my sponsor:  the expensive dinners in dimly lit downtown restaurants, surprise gifts and quiet cash flow... Said sponsor, along with empty relationships, and bedtime drunk dials all leave me entirely too vulnerable.  It puts me out there, susceptible to all sorts of unnecessary mishap and circumstance. Mess.  Admittedly, last year I vested entirely too much energy into my personal life.  Other than becoming a workaholic, there was very little work or restructure on me or my person.  I may have changed a few wigs here and there, but after a year I was still no closer to knowing what I wanted to do or needed to do for myself.

So now that it is almost 2012, I am learning to write again.  Slowly, I am teaching myself to maximize my alone time (or not maximize it), so long as I do it alone.  I spend Friday nights reading instead of seeking places to be out in, perches to see and be seen. On weeknights, I might sift through my ever-growing stack of books rather than scrolling through my text messages, deciding only after much deliberation who to call back.  Additionally, I have stopped frowning because this particular one only calls when he's drunk.

Cutting all this out-all of them out-I have created a bit of peace.  The smell of a good book helps me filter all the garbage out.  The notes of some Benny Golson song stirs the contentment in my chest and sends it rippling across my face.  This pact is going very well.  I have learned to re-enjoy my own company.  For the first time in a long time I can focus on my writing, on anything else I know I want to do.  In fact, the pact has become a regiment that I am trying my damnedest to apply to all aspects of my life.  If by sticking to this, I can create further clarity, find that ember of self motivation that I lost somewhere along the way, then perhaps I shouldn't talk to boys at all!

Syke.

All jokes aside, I feel I'm onto something here.  I have set my own pace, and can once again "keep it moving" without arms around me.  I have reminded myself that I can pick up the pieces without my girls in my ear.  And in the eleventh hour I can lull myself to sleep just fine without him "telling me something good".  Quality solo time, writing again, breathing easy, and learning again how to live with just me.