So many early-morning thinky-thoughts.... (or: what am I doing up before the light?)
Let's face it,when my brain is full of words (even when those words are feeble in saying exactly what I want to say), I have to core dump sometimes. I will say things wrong, or inadequately, but sooner or later, I do have to express myself. And more often than not, that has been here. I'm working hard lately, to express myself verbally - to talk with people and to say just what I want to say. But, for so many years, I've not been able to make my voice express what I really want to say, so here I am again, taking pen in hand (or rather, fingers to electrons and keyboard), because it's in the written word that I best find my 'voice.' (I also find it, too, when I sing, but that's me expressing things with others' words.)
As for my (birthday) week.... wow. So much growth in such a short space of time... emotions stored on my body for years, like frozen energy, breaking loose like shards of an iceberg.... and I still feel them melting. Literally, as now my oldest scrub pants, once tight, are threatening to fall off, if I don't put the drawstring back in... and I'm not even trying. :-) I'm just eating and drinking 'good-for-the-Deb' foods that I enjoy (including lots of tea!! Huzzah!)... I get out and watch the colors of the sky change, and move my body as often as possible, and rest when needed (Inertia Girl, that's me). I am re-learning how to balancing my life between work and play, rest and movement, and complementing it all with a harmony of silence/solitude, teaching work, and cherished company. I'm asking for what I want, and need, in both the professional and private parts of my life, and seeing that I do have agency, when I can address them all with a clear voice. It takes a lot of effort (and when I get tired, I drop, and sleep like a rock), but the sense of agency felt is so very worth it.
I'm still parsing it out and unpacking the pieces, even as I marvel at the journey of the past 7 days. The Kavanaugh hearings (and conversations I've had surrounding them) brought so many things to light - some of which are creepy, abrasive, poisoned-tongued things that'd not seen the light of day for many years. The last time I sat down and actually *wrote* about them, it took over a week of writing and crying and venting - and yes, screaming and ranting - to get to the raw core of it all. And the product was a Reader Rebuttal in the MSU State News regarding Take Back The Night. It was a piece (of me) that I was scared as Hell to have them print, but was essential, if I was to continue in my studies at that place. I needed to cleanse it of some demons so that I could re-create a space for myself there, in which I could grow and learn, without fear. It was not complete, then, but it was enough of a start to carve out a place for myself.
And when is work like that *ever* finally done? Just after I take my last breath in this body, I think. There's always another layer to the onion, and sometimes that is so damn overwhelming. It's then that I so wish for a small break, out of space and time, where I can just exist, and *be me* - without guarding my all-too-soft underbelly of seemingly-perpetual woundedness. I want to grow vast, plated, hardened scales over that part of me - but I've made a commitment to myself to live with an open heart, so if I were to choose to be that guarded, I would have to forfeit that promise to myself. And that I will not do.
It's a fine line to walk, and at times it's all too much, and too intense, and I hit overwhelm, and have to go spend time with trees and water, not speaking in words, nor thinking in word-thoughts. Decompression time is essential if I am to continue this part of my journey - especially when the public issues of the day dredge up old (still-infected?) sore spots in my psyche. I can see now that, when I tried to run from these issues (or to sweep them under a rug... to 'just get over it' as some would miscounsel me), that it only kept the hurt inside, and the 'infection' spread, despite what the surface might show. I know better than that. But when the issue is one of my largest (and I've been busy peeling off layers of other onions), I have to remember not to expect 'Rome in a day' from myself. I can only do so much, at any given time. And, as this kind of emotional work takes enormous effort, and time and to do it, I needed to find, and consciously (unconsciously?) set aside a safe, warm, caring space in which to do it.
And it's funny, because once again, as I look back on my life, I see that, while I don't always get what I want, I *do* always seem to get exactly what I need. (And some days, not getting what I think I want, is definitely a protection, rather than a hindrance *wry-grin*). At the end of July, my planned housing with a good friend fell through, and I was so very disappointed. It felt like the agency of being able to shape my life had once again slipped through my fingers like water.
But, I see now, looking back on other times in my life, that things sometimes fall apart, so that better things can fall together. The place I live now, and the person with which I live, fell randomly into my life, completely without warning. But, had I consciously designed the situation myself, I could not have done better. The place where I am now in my life (the place, and the companion) are marvelous.... and continue to inspire and amaze me, with comfort, and communication, and simple joys that, as Tunta would've put it, 'make my heart sing happy songs.' *smiles* And the funny thing is, it's not a giddy mania (although there's plenty of laughter), it's more a sense of deep joy, and feeling safe, and that 'this is right.'
So, yes, lots of deep thinky-thoughts today... a lot to chew on, mentally. But I started this just after 6:30am, and it's now just after 9am. I must get back up and have breakfast, and start my day. I want to go and greet my companion before they start their workday, and go play with the dog (and yes, there IS a dog.... a wonderful puppus to go with the rest of the wonderful here...) *grin*
So, I'll end (as I am so likely to do) with some lyrics that sum this bit up... thank you Paul Simon, for introducing me to them:
"When something goes wrong,
I'm the first to admit it
I'm the first to admit it
But the last one to know
When something goes right
Well it's likely to lose me
It's apt to confuse me
It's such an unusual sight
I can't get used to something so right
Something so right."
- Paul Simon, Something So Right
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
Pax/Love and big hugs to all.
Deb/Loba