I had a unique sort of moment at bedtime last night. After switching off the lights in the house, and making my steps to the bedroom, it happened- the darkness of the house began to creep over me, the way it does sometimes when I'm feeling lonely or insecure. It was a darkness thick with my apprehensions about my life, the choices I've made, etc. and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was afraid.

But, I didn't leave it at that. As much as I fought to block out my fear, pretending to believe it came from outside of me instead of from within, I knew my fear was a function of a deeper loneliness. What was penetrating me was a sense that I had no continuity, no legacy of living, nothing consistent that had survived since childhood, not even me.

For many people, family provides this continuity, but my blood family is disjointed, geograhically and emotionally separated in a big way. Friends too, could provide that continuity, I realize now, like a mirror to see oneself in, but friends have changed every 5 years for me, as my geography and lifestyle have changed. Now I live in the sticks and am redefined by my new family, but the sacrifice, the ongoing sacrifice I keep finding myself making, is that in constantly "moving on," only faint traces of emotional continuity are left to linger.

This was the awareness I felt pentetrate me in the darkness. And yeah, it was a bit sad, but not only sad. I mean, I'm glad I get it, at least. Maybe its just time for me to write my life story down, like I always expected I would, to play connect the dots and see what it looks like when I thread some continuity back into my life. That or I could push to retread some of the relationships I've littered my life with. But my impetus is not to do that. I expect there will be more payoff in paying attention to the relationships I'm currently nurturing.

But in the meantime, I feel its time to begin sewing myself back together.