How do you explain when you don't have the words?

Actions, right?

I had a throwback to 19-years-old as I drove to see Kate Winslet in The Reader last night, blasting all of the music I had once used to define myself. This was before complications. Before they came along. Before I defined my achievements, beauty, qualities and music taste by what they thought appropriate. That throwback was empowering and heartbreaking because I am not a weak. I am not easily-influenced. I am not shy to say what i think or feel, yet I allowed myself to step aside so someone else could take the driver's seat, when they surely they just wanted me to be me and hope the disagreements may flare some fire for the bedroom.

An extreme case has thrown me dangerously in the other direction - out of protection for myself in the last year. And yet, in January, while I was in Seattle - something changed. I don't know how else to explain it but with a book title: "One day my soul just opened up."

No more worrying about things that didn't matter. No more putting up with people who I never really wanted to in the first place. No more judging and being angry just to keep some invisible wall up between me and anyone who may have a fighting chance of getting to know the real person beneath my thick skin. All of these changes have been more than welcomed. I'm often filled with grace and kindness where negative thoughts and insecurity once screamed for attention. So much less exhausting. So much... better.

My idealist has kicked in and reminded me that maybe love isn't total crap and there still can be some hope for some old-fashioned tradition. I want to be dancing with my handsome man in tall pants and suspenders to Louis Armstrong, then wake up in the morning to 1 boiled egg, a cake donut and black coffee, just like in old movies. Instead of feeling frustrated about how unrealistic that is, I mostly just wonder, Where are you?.