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Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness. Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress. Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.rainfallpress.com/

Monday, May 9, 2011

For Sarah

Five For Fighting - Superman

“I’m just out to find the better part of me.  I’m more than a bird, more than a plane, more than a pretty face beside a train – it’s not easy to be me…”

I want to be me, for a while - want to be me, free of any distractions, any problems, any … thing.  Or anyone. 
Isn’t that a hell of a fantasy?

Fighting and managing to get through each day leads to the next one, but some days I don’t want to, and some days don’t know how I do. 

I want to be a non-entity.  A cloud.  A whisper in the wind.
Some days I want to cry, too, but don’t know how anymore.  I want to move my lips and say something meaningful about my soul, but don’t think anyone would listen.  Some days I want to yell and scream, beat my fists against a wall and kick a tree… but if I kicked a tree, would anyone hear the sound of my breaking toes?
What I do is write and lay bare my soul, and do it often, but in a way that is trying to link my feelings into a web with yours.  A favorite writer of mine, Peter McWilliams, once said “these are your words, I only wrote them down.”  He hooked me when he saw right through me.  That’s how I write - I don’t always want it to be just me in the big bad world.  I need to feel that connection, to know that we see the common threads between us all.
But this post… this is all about me.  And I’m struggling.  I don’t know how to do “all about me” very well.  To sit and spend an hour with myself, think only of me, talk only of me… don’t think I can do that.  For instance, my thoughts are rushing around inside so fast it’s like the Autobahn in there – all zooming endlessly in pointless circles. 

And I’m tired.  Tired of sleeping, tired of not.

Tired of exhausting myself caring for others.  I watch over my friends, as the stern maternal one of the group.  I try to take care of my husband, making sure his needs are met and his load lightened.  I’m the go-to girl for my family when they need just about anything. 

When anyone asks if they can do something for me, or asks how I’m doing and genuinely wants more than a ten-second “fine, how are you?” answer, I’m dumbfounded.  I’m not trying to play the woe-is-me card, honest.  It’s nice to be someone that people can rely on.  But, sometimes.. just sometimes – I want to be able to rely on people too.
I’ve been doing more things for myself lately.  Taking drives, reconnecting with old friends, carving out personal time for writing.  In doing so, however, without taking away from the things done for others, necessities such as sleep are sacrificed, and it wreaks its havoc.  It’s clouding my judgment too, or is it chasing the clouds away in a deluded clarity? 
I want to do things… drive down the coast, just let my mind rest, and zone out.  I want to go for walks at night.  I want my husband and I to be whole, and I want to be whole, alone, as well.  It’s very important to be ourselves, and to be as one.  The freedom is there, to grow into the next person I want to be. 
I just wish I knew who that was, but truthfully don’t have a clue.  Am I grown-up enough to find my way?
So this… this is where I am right now.  This is my pin on the map.  I need to figure out where my destination is.  I never, ever want to lose my husband as my companion, my lover, my partner, but I don’t intend to lose myself, either. 

Can I wonder, and wander?  Get lost and find my way back again?

Yet if I wander too far, it’s entirely possible nobody would come looking for me. 

“Men weren’t meant to fly with clouds between their knees.  It may sound absurd, but don’t be naïve, even heroes have the right to bleed.  I may be disturbed, but won’t you concede even heroes have the right to dream.  It’s not easy to be… me…”

(c) Kymberlie Ingalls ~ October 31st, 2008

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