Every Page Has It’s Purpose

Every page has it’s purpose. The pages of this site have a purpose just like any other and that purpose is healing. It is my hope that with each page I create, each blog I post, each word I write a piece of me heals. You see I like many men and women, boys and girls, humans and animals around the world I suffer from a broken heart freshly ground through the meat grinder of illogical circumstance that makes up love and relationships. It has been one month since the love of my life, the woman of my dreams decided it was best for both of us that we part ways. One month since I had to quickly move from our home to where I stay now a place that feels much more like purgatory than home. I am hoping that if I wear my emotions on my sleeves that I will heal and this blog is a integral part of that process.

I am and always will be a writer it is a factoid of who I am no matter when I am happy or sad and no matter who enters my life or when they choose to leave I will continue to write. You see to me writing is like a medicine. Here where I live people use drugs everyday, especially marijuana, to calm their nerves or even just to help them through hard times I use writing and will continue to do so. This idea of healing is what really got me and I know now that really the best way for me to heal is to write as much as I can. A sort of universal healthcare for all the pain I must prevent from being bottled inside of me. Have you ever seen one of those soda experiments? The stupid ones where they drop six ant-acids in a 2 liter of cola and then watch the chemicals explode through the high pressured plastic neck? Well when in pain your emotions are like that bottle of soda waiting for that one ant-acid to push it over the edge. So here I am writing to relieve the pressure in doses my heart can manage instead of waiting for the whole thing to crumble in one swoop.

It began with my journal. My prized possession, the greatest gift I have ever been given. You see my ex got it for me on a trip to her parents lake house that sits just off the shore of Lake Hemet, a beautiful piece of the country. The lake is just south of a small mountain town called Idyllwild a place that could not be more aptly named. It rests in a thickly wooded set of mountain peaks that evoke frontier history but rests there quite peacefully, possibly the most peaceful place I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. We went there several times during out relationship, it was our favorite getaway and I could never thank her parents enough for letting us stay there on the weekends. It was ours and I will always love it and think of it fondly for that.

Like any small community set so beautifully in nature it was also a tourist attraction and despite our frequent visits to the lake and by extension the town we always tourist-ed its many shops and sights. There was something so peaceful about walking the wooden sidewalks through the many eclectic shops of incense, spirituality, and in some cases just junk. In one of the spirituality shops we found journals. I bought one for myself and another smaller one for her as I was the much stronger and confident writer of the two of us (her skills lay more in math and science two subjects she will never completely understand just how brilliant she is in) and yes I see the contradiction in this statement. I bought them for us without a doubt but truly they were a gift from her and always will be.

That journal just isn’t enough right now. At least not at this stage. For some reason I am taking comfort in the idea that some stranger just as lost as me in need of the same healing will come along and find this and some of what I right will give them comfort. Or at least they will know that they are not alone in feeling incomplete for I do as well. This blog, my blog is about my journey to rediscover who I am without her. And then maybe I will be ready to love again.