46. Wings

I won’t be held accountable for breaking a song-bird’s wings. Fear is crippling. Life exhausting; friends foreign. Interacting a hassle.

I want to be heard. No more disappearing. Excuses are hideous and immature.  It’s time to light up the room again. With a smile, a glance, a confident introduction…comfort in my skin, without worrying about surroundings.

Wasting no more thunder on a storm that moved west, this is my last post of 2010. I’m done.

I thought about a year-in-recap post, I thought about writing a resolution for 2011, Christmas stories were also an option. Instead, I’m unapologetic to myself and to you, my dearest friends.

Don’t go anywhere, I’m about to open up a new year with more truth, more honesty. I’m pushing myself past what I used to believe were limitations.

I wrote a poem earlier this week. Unsure what to do with it and confused about why it came to me, I let it sit in a file until now.

Imagination takes you anywhere you want.
Shackled to a dream, chains tear away at ivory skin. Flaming wounds replay the loop. Let me love you; let me know you.

Irony is deeper than the abrasions. Only in these moments of paralysis are the vast distances of travel seen. Captured only for as long as allowed to stay. The journey begins when released from ravenous, unrealistic desires. It’s time.

Standing outside of the clear-glass window, a deteriorating skeleton of myself lays before me. The rock walls crumbling around her mimic her frail existence. With the key clinched in her fist, she grinds her knuckles into the earth-toned crag, and a nightmarish blush pours from the broken appendages.

Hot tears burn her already swollen, blurry, delusional eyes. And as the inevitability of the outcome sinks into her brokenness, the desire to remain fades. So she looks up to me, and asks to be taken home where she can heal and start over. She wants me to hold her tonight because she knows that fighting the certainty is worse than accepting certain defeat, even though suffering is inevitable.

She knows we’ve had the key to these fetters all along. We control our release.

The door is delicately opened and my feet step one in front of the other. The victim watches my approach. A gaze of unconditional empathy toward her and safety is known. Her frail, bruised arm reaches toward the sky. And as her arm turns over, the ghost of my past relinquishes the opener.

Standing over her for a minute, I appreciate the fact that I’m regaining a piece of myself, no matter how disfigured she may be. Then, scooping her into my arms and throwing the heavy metal shackles to the floor, she feels weightless. Perhaps her weight loss is because of the suffering, but I think it’s the loss of fear that makes us both ethereal.

I’m saying good-bye to James tonight. Forever. Phone calls will go unanswered and text messages ignored.

No more ‘what-if’ routines, no more excuses. It’s over.

My heart will mourn.

I will get over it.

One of my wonderful blogging friends left this comment on my last post:

My dear Fina,

I hope you have climbed out of bed by now – having conquered two or three of your old ghosts – and are parading about town with your dimples flashing and your heels astompin’.

It isn’t my concern who you choose to bestow with your magnificent presence – I just want to make sure that it isn’t being hidden away. :)

Merry Christmas, pretty girl.
;) t

I haven’t been astompin’ or aflashin’ a single thing and I owe it to myself to start…and to dig deeper to find that beautiful, gifted girl inside that is begging me to let her live. Thank you, Terri, for throwing a mirror in front of me and saying, “Walk the walk, sister”.

It’s amazing how much a song can put things into perspective. Here is mine for 2010:

My pain and heartache brought you and I together. You empathized with my decisions, with my fear, with my lifestyle as a twenty-something searching for love and suffering confusion and uncertainty. And while I didn’t get what I wanted from my love life, I’ve been given such blessings in the relationships that have developed from my blog. Every tear, every sad night, every moment of weakness was worth it because I now have you.

I hope you’ll stay with me for a new chapter. It’s time to grow tall.

Next year’s theme:

I am going shopping tomorrow.  If I’m going to be astompin’ I need new stems (have I ever told you how great my legs are?).

It just wouldn’t be a Fina post if I didn’t have some conceit added. And while I’m promising change, I am also promising myself that my sense of humor will remain.

I’m fucking funny. Deal with it.

Happy 2011 all. I’ll be back, taking names, and dishing the dirt shortly.

Much love,



13 thoughts on “46. Wings

  1. hi!

    I like your “in-your-face” style of writing. It brings out raw emotions in a way that’s hard to overlook!

    Hope to have a wonderful interaction with you in the next year.


  2. Beautiful. Empowering. Touching. Bold. And yes, fucking funny. I love it!

    Wishing you everything your heart desires in 2011.

  3. Fina,

    Even though I’ve been following you for only a few short weeks, I am astounded at how much you have grown. You started out (in my eyes) as this angst-riddled, scared little girl who was stuck in between neutral and drive (this awkward creeping forward, unsure of whether to do nothing or move on).

    And sure as I stand right now, you have become, before my eyes, a woman more sure of herself than ever before, confident in her choices (if not truthfully confident in what she believes or who she is), and forging ahead – which, let’s not overlook, is the CORRECT choice (one you tried mightily to help me see earlier).

    I’m proud to call you a friend and, more importantly, someone I can rely on and trust in to harbor each others’ windy sails, steadying our ships, and then sending us back out into the ocean searching for that land or that magical treasure (whichever one is shinier!) that’s out there waiting for us.

    • Dear John, (lol)

      I love you for being a great listening ear and a voice of reason. I’m so thankful we’ve connected. Can’t wait to see what 2011 does for both of us. I’m expecting great things!

      Much love,

      Fina ❤

  4. Perfect last post of the year. New Years is about new beginnings and you are very good at finding those. Your heart is always in the right place and life is about learning. You have never missed a step in that and in no way lost your spark. There are just different chapters on different days… and that is ok.

    I look forward to all you have to give in 2011. I look forward to you being in my life. I am always here for you. ♥

    Happy New Year beautiful. ♥

  5. Fina,

    You just keep amazing me all the time. You are quite like me. Straight on the face. Like it or not. I am what I am.

    (have I ever told you how great my legs are?). NOPE

    I’m fucking funny. Deal with it. Yes, Love the way you are stay that way. Always!

    • Vic,

      They are great. Long for my short frame and pretty fantastic to look at. One of my favorite assets. 😉
      I’m staying this way, promise. No more sadness and confusion, it’s time to act confidently. I’m ready. Love you!

  6. Sarafina,

    You continue to amaze me with each moving post.
    This is another heart wrenching chapter in your journey toward a more happier and fulfilling life.
    As you are realizing, you have to live your life on your terms.
    Compromise with the deepest parts inside of our souls, our very beings always leads to us betraying the best of inside of us.

    Enjoyed your wonderful poem. It is very similar to what I was getting at in my poem fragments “Lost in fearful days” that posted a couple weeks ago, but you’re already there with this.

    I like how you have described your broken and wounded parts of yourself as a “deteriorating skeleton” that you are comforting and in effect trying to rescue and take home to safety. Such powerful images you have come up with.

    So many lines stick with me.

    “Her frail arm reaches toward the sky, but stops at waist level when I reach her. And as her arm turns over, the ghost of my past relinquishes the opener.”


    “Perhaps the weight loss is because of the suffering, but I think it’s the loss of fear that makes us both ethereal. ”

    This is a beautiful, well written poem that I read a number of times just enjoying your use of language.

    In a lot of ways, this is like your recent posts — searching, impactful, beautiful and poignant about the aching need of wanting to move on, heal, and to leave the past behind.

    It has been great meeting you this year and reading and watching your blossoming talents from afar.
    And yes, you are funny and for that we should all be grateful.
    I am looking forward to following more of your journey in 2011 and continuing to encourage you in some small way.

    Have a great birthday tomorrow and a Happy New Year.


    • Oh George,

      I don’t even know how to respond to your beautiful comment, it made my heart so at ease…so comfortable.

      Thank you, sir. I can’t wait to share my year with you. 🙂



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