When there is nothing left.

I had a dream early this morning. Essentially in the dream I lost everything and ended up sitting with my family telling the man that I loved him. That we loved him, whether he stayed or not.

The dream was very metaphorical, as obviously he’s not actually here. Additionally by lost everything, I mean I lost: slippers – meaning comforts, my wallet- financial security, and my work bag- my essentials for daily activities. The realization I came to, upon waking, was that it is true. It was a very surreal realization.

I have lost everything. I have lost the comforts. I have lost financial security, though that really happened years ago. I have lost the essentials, right now I’ve spent the last year and a half without even running water. I feel horrendously horrible for having put my family in that place.

I wish I could undo it all. I feel like I’m on the verge of “selling my soul to the devil” for just plain “normal”.

It also made me uncomfortably aware that I have nothing to offer. I have no real money, no nice home, no solid definite means of improvement. I have nothing tangible to offer this person whom I care so much for. I have no justification. I have no way to convey that my love for him isn’t just an attempt to merely better our lives.

Yet Ms. Louise Hay points out that we are born into this world with nothing and we leave this world with nothing. She says you can’t take your money, or your cars, or your houses. The only thing you bring in the world and the only thing you take with you is your love. She’s right.

So now, I struggle. I have oscillated again. I started the morning by intending that Ian would be cuddly and loving and he was, it was a good start to the day. As the day wore on, that dream dogged me. I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to convey the importance of my feelings, but having nothing substantial to back it up.

I want to give and receive love in multiplicity, but life dictates that we need the stuff. Stuff is divine energy manifest, and it keeps life flowing. I know that someone that has already climbed out of poverty doesn’t want to go backwards. No one wants to go backward. Yet, that is essentially what I’m asking, just so I can love on him. It’s not fair to him, and it is definitely not fair to the soon to be wife. I’m essentially asking him to take on an instant problem, not on purpose, merely as a side effect of practicality of polyamory.

So, I sit and face the facts. Even if I have faith that things will work out, there is very real potential it could continue as the crap whole it is. Beyond that I am asking another human being to have faith based on some dreams and visions, and something that has eluded Nathan and I for over a decade. I see the reality that what I’m asking is far too much. My expectations might be far too high. My goals unrealistic and unbelievable.

Yet I believe in the possibility of miracles, and asked for that very thing months and months ago. I believe that my miracle request is on it’s way, that just more patience is needed.

So, why then do I feel like such an ass? Why do I feel like a schmuck asking for too much?

And why does all of this produce anger in me? The tears I understand. The anger I don’t.

And if all I have is love, if that is the only damn thing I have to offer, then why can’t I hold just that feeling? Why is it so damn hard to focus on the only good thing I have left? I have so many places I direct that love, yet I can’t focus long enough to evoke the feeling.

So, I’m feeling lost at the moment, but I know I’ll eventually find improvement. I always do, at least since I figured out my puzzle. I will get the pieces back together and feel the love again. It just takes time and more patience with myself. Piece my peace back together.

About Treasa Cailleach

I'm a massage therapist working with chiropractic and the elderly; musician, artist, pagan, mom, B of LGBTQ, & polyamorous professional.

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