I have tears all the time. In truth all my life I have been susceptible to being emotional at the most profoundly simple times, a hallmark commercial legacy follows me. Lifetime movies, a bittersweet scene from a new movie preview, the notion of two lovers being drawn apart by society. The events that most people look past with little or no reaction impact my daily life.
People chuckle sometimes at my inability to hold back a tear and the most urbane moment. For me, I always struggle to understand why. There are real moments that make sense. Watching a student perform their last solo in one of our productions is always a trigger, the beauty of their time on the stage quite evident in my mind, and their moving on beyond our program is always bittersweet.
Fast forward to today, and the remarkable energy of a love story always brings a tear to my eye, sometimes sobs. Understanding love has been one of the more confusing realities of my life, especially given my circumstances that suggest societal rules do not allow me to have emotional reactions outside of my ‘real’ world. Lately, I haven’t been able to wrap my head around my ‘real’ world. What is real to me, has suddenly become less merited than I might prefer. If that sounds vague then step into my head. The confusion is clearly apparent.
Weekends are tough because I have too much time on my hands. There is nothing happening home, so I am detached most of the time. Living like roommates my marriage has been minimized to say the least – I keep waiting for change, and my efforts towards doing so have been based upon obligatory reasoning being raised Catholic and recognizing the sacrament of a bond under God’s eyes. But I do question that whole theory when the element of happiness comes to mind. I know happiness, and unfortunately it isn’t happening at home.
So I look for outlets. Writing has been an outlet, it has always been my quiet release. There have been times when I have been rambunctious with my freedom with words, and those moments have taught me decorum. Today, my moments are far more reserved and I strive to have a respectful persona. In writing, we find certain energy in the mystique of a muse that inspires our words.
In recent years, my muse returned to my life, and therein lays the struggle. I gave my heart and soul to the beauty of the delight she brings to my world. Today, time is different and my acceptance has been partial to say the least. In the moment I say I understand, at the same time I am still searching for in roads to help me come to terms with the elegance of my muse, and her impact upon my life.
The concept of love is one that I feel quite confident in my own personal definition, and now today, as I write these words, I want to focus on the reality of a tear. My tears are real and cleansing, and for now that is all I have. I hang onto the fabric of their impact on my present world. A month ago, I was willing to sacrifice everything in my world due to my remorse, my inability to recognize space, to allow our lives to return to a world we both had expressed brought more pain than satisfaction to our hearts.
Oh to be sure there are certain aspects of our world that bring us joy. Please understand I have no illusions about the confusion of our passion and this romantic interlude that defines my identity.
I only have tears.