MeliGoesRogue

It has been longer than I should have allowed to fly solo again. I wish I knew why, perhaps the answer will come before the inevitable flight home. In the meantime I find myself lovingly wrapped in the arms of the stars. I have changed so much since that first trip not that many years ago. Let’s get to story time, I’m sure the mushy will come.

I’m not sure why I chose France, could be my love of wine, bread, cheese etc.. but I think more I wanted the quiet of the countryside. Those who know me (not really a pre-requisite), know that I prefer the country to a city. I like to see what God created, not necessarily man. Part of that comes from the close proximity of others in these endeavors, I like being alone. Wait did I just say that, hmm. Interesting to me only probably, but I have spent so much of my life crying out for a companion and yet solitude has always been my favorite. So much to speculate, still so many wounds and narratives I need to heal. Anyways…..

So France..not Versailles, not Paris but France. I like driving, it’s most likely the remnants of living in a city that requires a car to get absolutely anything. Years and I mean years ago when AirB&B first hit the scene I remember a conversation with my brother where he predicted its success because as he said visiting a place is a different experience to “living” in a place. I think this has influenced the way I do my solo trips.I like to pick countries that have vast landscape I can travel across by motorway, stopping when the desire or the view demands. I love B&B’s, I never feel as alone as sometimes I really am (this reminds me of my nephew Skyy- I remember one time he asked me to come over and then proceeded to spend all his time in his room, when I was leaving he got sad and I said to him why do you want me to be here if you’re just going to be in your room, his response…. “I just like knowing you’re here” , B&B ‘s give me exactly that. (Good to know my ability to digress is still intact).

During this trip I have a mix of stays, AirB&B’s, Hotels, and Chateaus. I have just begun but I can already see how the different offerings will allow me to experience more than just vacation, but home.I am currently making my way down to the South of France, but the first stop had to be Bordeaux. My wine addiction definitely made this decision. I am sitting on the balcony of my “Gite” staring out into nothingness and above to the stars that remind me just how far I am from the lights of “home”. I say home like that because I’m not sure what that really means to me. (Side note: Sometimes I think of these writings as a conversation I’m having with a friend so I’ll answer questions I think you would ask lol).

A few years ago my mother introduced me to the idea of having a word for the year. This word would be something I worked on (I think). There are questions you ask yourself and the word is supposed to come to you. I’ve done it before but it’s never been as passively active as it was this year. Along with the word I created a vision board. Again something I’ve never seen the fruit of but it was always a way I could bond with my mother so the effort was always worth it. At the beginning of this year as I went about looking for the images that would be displayed each day on my board, I came across a word I had hidden away.

Hiraeth (n) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was, the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

FYI this might not be the technical definition but the truth is every single word was meant for me to see together. One of the reasons I take these trips at the same time every year is because many many many years ago I lost some things very precious to me, the last remnant of love. Every time I take these trips I am deep in Hiraeth. I felt so seen, so free when I saw a word for the things I had carried for so many years. The tricky part ? My word of the year that followed…”Relinquish”. How could I ? How could I relinquish that which I had allowed to be imprinted not only on my heart but my body. I realize I have spent so many years looking for “a home which maybe never was”.

When I went to Ireland the first time I visited this small island that was just a garden. There was this high tower at the top of the island that during the war was used by soldiers as a lookout. Since it was high on the island that meant quite a few stairs, I mean a lot actually. But something pushed me to go up and so I did, when I reached the top and climbed the turret to the lookout I was confronted with all the emotional weight I had brought up with me and soon the tears began to roll down my face. I don’t know how to stop grieving. I think because it isn’t just people I grieve but what the loss meant for my future. I have remained with my heart frozen, allowing mistreatment, perhaps because I felt I deserved it (I’m good now…I think), but more I felt it was a way to not confront the fact that I truly believed my chance for love and happiness had gone. I left a part of my grief there on that turret that day, trying to reopen my heart, to return hope to my minds eye. Every time I have touched soil without them I have left a piece of them there. Yet as I sit nestled on my perch looking out into the darkness I realized I don’t need to leave them behind, I can carry them with me…forever. It’s the doubt, the fear, the hopelessness that should not be allowed to return.

I imagine much like grief this will come in stages but I think the next few weeks might be a good place to start. I can’t promise I’ll take you guys along for all of it. Unfortunately there are still things only God, a man who betrayed me and I know and for now I think that’s ok.

I can hear my mother “your only as sick as your secrets”. Hmm maybe thats true, but I think it depends heavily on what you consider a secret versus experiences in life that you hold tight to your chest because perhaps they were meant only for you.

Funny side note, many moons ago I found myself in the country of my birth attempting to heal my body and my heart. In a car ride with my father whom I had been “estranged” from for probably just as many years told me something interesting about secrets. He said in his mind there was no such thing. He said people believe a secret is something you have hidden. A secret can’t be shared, when it is it loses its status as a secret; someone else now knows.

I wonder who is right- perhaps they both are. Perhaps there are things we need to say out loud so we can let them go, other times there are things we need to relinquish to God because in truth he is the only one that can comfort a heart….I just said that and yet I don’t know if I believe it; the comforting part. I feel like people will say any good, positive feeling is from God and I get the thought process but when I sob, when my body shakes because I can’t control the emotion that seems to be pouring out of every pore, where is my comfort? I stop crying because at some point my body becomes exhausted my eyes heavy and my mind weary.

Is that God? I don’t know that living beings can answer this so I am left to decide to accept the assumption or not.

One of the struggles of these writings are that they usually occur late at night when all you can heart are the crickets and the cicadas, when the side of the world I’m on is sleeping as should I. Yet writing these things out is usually the melatonin I need to relinquish my hold on the day and close my eyes. I fear every morning waking without them and yet I fear the morning I will not awake just as much.

I have a fondness for quotes, I used to love when I would hear someone quote a book, person, poetry etc. I thought how amazing it would be to have the words, phrases of the greatest poets imprinted in my mind, ready to recall at any moment. Back in 2007 I started a notepad that kept all my favorite quotes, thru the years I have added and its growth has always thrilled me. I can’t quote them but I find that when the occasion arises I remember the “remnants” of one and quickly scroll to find it. Today there were many and yet only one that remained.

My love and grief has always been a difficult thing to share. Perhaps because I was so young when I lost them but more because love like energy can never be destroyed it has simply changed it’s form.

Happy Birthday and Bonne Nuit