The Only Gentle Hands

What on earth is going on in my heart Has it turned as cold as stone Seems these days I don't feel anything Less it cuts me right down to the bone What on earth is going on in my heart My oh my you know it just don't stop It's in my mind I wanna tear it up I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off But it's not enough It takes a lotta love It takes a lotta love my friend To keep your heart from freezing To push on till the end My oh my What on earth is going on in my head You know I used to be so sure You know I used to be so definite Thought I knew what love was for I look around these days and I'm not so sure My oh my you know it just don't stop It's in my mind I wanna tear it up I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off But it's not enough It takes a lotta love It takes a lotta love my friend To keep your heart from freezing To push on till the end My oh my you know I just can't win I burn it down it comes right back again What kinda world is this we're living in where you never win It takes a lotta love It takes a lotta love these days To keep your heart from freezing To keep your spirit free My oh my you know it just don't stop It's in my mind I wanna tear it up I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off But it's not enough It takes a lotta love It takes a lotta love my friend To keep your heart from freezing To push on till the end-D. G

I have been waiting for years for the sun to come up over the hill. Unfortunately, there is still darkness here—a couple tall tree's hovering over this land allowing only tiny rays of light in. Sometimes it is like my very breath is another indication of how long of a life it has been. Things don't continue unless we allow them to and when we want change, we have to make change happen, and that is what I did. I have changed. I barely recognize myself anymore; the same old, tired image fading into a beautiful scenery. No one told me adulthood would feel this way—empty yet so full of life. I have been spending many sleepless nights attempting to overcome that contradiction. In my life, I have lost the sun, moon, and stars numerous times, I have also fought to bring them back, numerous times. I am not alone in that type of endeavor—many before me have done the same. I have begun to search the beginning and ends of time to find those little pieces of heaven that have escaped, to find those types of light, and that nurturing kind of love within myself. Every break of day I have ever gotten was because I loved myself enough. As a practicing therapist, I know that my love has to be “the one”. I come from a world where love has no basis just conditions that mean pain and self-sacrifice. The process of learning to love myself from the ground, up, has been one of the most cleansing but somewhere inside are fire's raging and work that still needs to be done. No matter how much flicking and picking, all that genetics have brought forth in me, seems to exceed my heart of hearts threshold; it is a miracle I have any kindness left. I somehow have too much. And I keep thanking God because I know this journey is impossible alone. I get people, life, love, and most of all, I understand the emptiness all of those can bring. I have always been concerned with time because I know how quickly it runs out. Time is weightless-- it slipped through my hands and down the streets I once played on, into the gutters with one of those unforgettable, childhood rainstorms. The inability to rewind has helped me see that some people act as robbers—they steal the special parts of you, and then they sell them to gain worth. To be bought, sold, and abandoned while trying to maintain a balance and be a real person in a life that is constantly moving, sometimes too fast to keep up, is the only way of life I know. Truthfully, I have considered all of this and I have put it out there for the world to see. I know I am lucky-- lucky to be alive but sometimes a soul aches for satisfaction, for the ability to forget certain memories, for simplicity, and for a glimpse of unconditional love. The soul does ache and when it does, it hurts. During that time, words fail to come, forgiveness becomes bound to a life that never was, and those happy endings get lost in all the things left unsaid. The only gentle hands are of those in your lap—you'll learn to hold your own hand.