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the spaces inbetween

“Older Chests”

Older chests reveal themselves Like a crack in a wall Starting small, and grow in time And we always seem to need the help Of someone else To mend that shelf Too many books Read me your favourite linePapa went to other lands And he found someone who understands The ticking, and the western man’s need to cry He came back the other day, you know Some things in life may change And some things They stay the same

Like time, there’s always time On my mind So pass me by, I’ll be fine Just give me time

Older gents sit on the fence With their cap in hand Looking grand They watch their city change Children scream, or so it seems, Louder than before Out of doors, and into stores with bigger names Mama tried to wash their faces But these kids they lost their graces And daddy lost at the races too many times

She broke down the other day, yeah you know Some things in life may change But some things they stay the same

Like time, there’s always time On my mind So pass me by, I’ll be fine Just give me time Time, there’s always time On my mind Pass me by, I’ll be fine Just give me time

I began my 60th year in august and am nearing the beginning of my 61st. There is no guidebook or pathway to follow and believe me,  I honestly never imagined that my journey would last this long. It would be a relief if there were an actual reason for my work in this life, but it is more apparent that my work is simply my work.

Relationships have been a source of strength and of struggle for me. I grew up in an environment that was tumultuous, fiery, and skittish. Marriages followed by divorces were in the background of my youth and I learned later that disharmony feels like love to me. I also learned that trying to learn about love while love feels like that is too frightening for me to pursue.

I’ve certainly been loved. Loved by more than is fair I believe. I have loved too, although I became quite gun-shy after my 1st live-in relationship of 2 years in 1978. My self-control, my fear, and my rage flowed like flood water submerging all my safe harbor. Since that time, I have kept a lock system controlling my heart ( The distinguishing feature of a lock is a fixed chamber in which the water level can be varied; whereas in a caisson lock, a boat lift, or on a canal inclined plane, it is the chamber itself (usually then called a caisson) that rises and falls).

I have remained mostly safe from further heartache matching the level I felt finding my partner having sex in a car in front of our apartment. I have not yet met the level of rage that I felt when I felt the imprint of my childhood framing my own adult life. This was an early lesson in letting go for me. I decided very young to forego the baring of my soul in that way again.

I find myself in a very strange position. I have moved to a new city and spend many quiet nights. I am working for myself and have extra hours on my own. I am liking myself more and liking many others less.

I now know I dashed and sprinted through life sure that it would burn out quickly. Then I found myself here and understood I miscalculated.  I’m here, I’m working on things I found I feel called to do. And I see more clearly that the notes on the musical staff don’t make music on their own. The spaces in between are vital and give the melody and the mood its meaning and impact.


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