Autumnal Whatnot

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Over a year ago, I was bereft, forsaken, disconsolate.

As I look back, I do not turn to a pillar of salt, but rather stand agape at my ability to take the most brutal of pruning and survive.

Sometimes, I forget this you know. I forget that above all else, I was designed to survive.

Calm has returned, mostly, to my life. My beloved massage therapist tells me my aura - if one believes in those things - is completely different.

I suppose she should know, having spent so many hours with her hands on my flesh, knitting me back together from the shredded and scattered pieces I walked into her studio holding. When she touches me now, I do not soak the energy from her hands the way I once did, an exhausted battery. Yet I still go back, her touch reminding me that this body is my home, and that it is good to live inside this body. 

It is difficult to quantify all the changes within myself this past year. Or really, perhaps I should say "re-discoveries" instead of changes, for I don't feel essentially different. I remain me.

Many things are becoming much, much clearer for me. Terrance and I discuss the future now, calmly and as friends. My efforts to finish the PhD and, even more importantly, secure a job for myself are being segmented into manageable pieces which, despite my impatience, are slowly coming together. I cast my dandelion parachutes into the wind and wait for things to take root.

The deep, bone aching rage and grief that swept over me a year and a half ago are gone, slowly washed out to a sea that supports no life. And while I hated her every time she said it - Time, dawn, it will take time - the words of my therapist were true. As I stormed at her and demanded a time certain, a date to mark, an hour to observe the retreat of the warring numbness.

I practice patience. Of all things, this is most difficult for I am notoriously impatient.  I can not bend time to my will nor can I make anything happen or anyone act before they are ready.  Different, of course, from stonewalling and heel dragging- which I can do like a pro. 

I practice maintaining my boundaries - and respecting those of others. Which is so difficult for me with people of whom I am fond.

I want to please. I want harmony. I want no tumult. I will roll over to make nice and maintain an equilibrium, even to my detriment and denial of my nature and needs.  Which, of course, leads to dreams of me pulling out my own tongue. You don't need to be Freud to decipher that one. 

It is, however, my return to my body which remains most wondrous to me. I see things. I smell things. A tiny taste of something is enough to sate.

I feel at home inside me again. It is a revelation, for which I am grateful. 

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