(no subject)
The last few months have been hellish. That seems like hyperbole. It doesn't feel like hyperbole. I let a series of unfortunate events force me to shrink. I actually feel smaller. That whole when it rains it pours thing? No joke.
I'm having to retrain myself. I'm crawling out of the rubble of a lot of crappy situations and self-inflicted anxiety. Anxiety so bad that while laying in my apartment, I had to whisper to myself "You are safe. You are loved" over and over to keep breathing. I didn't sleep for days at a time. I lost 20 pounds. I guess I am smaller.
I forgot about the shock wave that ripples out after cancer becomes a part of your every waking moment and then it kind of fades from your daily reality. I forgot that getting good news makes that terrible train slam its brakes. I forgot that it ejects you and launches you into space. I forgot that when you finally land, it hurts pretty bad. I forgot that I have been planting my feet, clenching my teeth, and digging in for an entire year. It sounds pretty ungrateful to mention this part after being so blessed to have a healthy, cancer-free parent. But the storm lifts and you have to pick up the pieces. You don't realize what being terrified for a year does to your body and your brain.
I can feel the shift though. I sat yesterday with my legs crossed and my palms turned upward on my knees. And I burst into tears. It literally exploded from me. It was the first time in a very, very long time that I allowed my body to be open and vulnerable. I have been curled into myself taking all these aching blows. It was the first time I felt safe to unfold. I've never experienced anything like that.
Things are far from perfect, but I'm working really hard to remember that these situations provide opportunity. In all of this, there is so many chances to be what I know I am. It was a reminder that some battles are just lifelong. But I am safe. And I am loved.
I'm having to retrain myself. I'm crawling out of the rubble of a lot of crappy situations and self-inflicted anxiety. Anxiety so bad that while laying in my apartment, I had to whisper to myself "You are safe. You are loved" over and over to keep breathing. I didn't sleep for days at a time. I lost 20 pounds. I guess I am smaller.
I forgot about the shock wave that ripples out after cancer becomes a part of your every waking moment and then it kind of fades from your daily reality. I forgot that getting good news makes that terrible train slam its brakes. I forgot that it ejects you and launches you into space. I forgot that when you finally land, it hurts pretty bad. I forgot that I have been planting my feet, clenching my teeth, and digging in for an entire year. It sounds pretty ungrateful to mention this part after being so blessed to have a healthy, cancer-free parent. But the storm lifts and you have to pick up the pieces. You don't realize what being terrified for a year does to your body and your brain.
I can feel the shift though. I sat yesterday with my legs crossed and my palms turned upward on my knees. And I burst into tears. It literally exploded from me. It was the first time in a very, very long time that I allowed my body to be open and vulnerable. I have been curled into myself taking all these aching blows. It was the first time I felt safe to unfold. I've never experienced anything like that.
Things are far from perfect, but I'm working really hard to remember that these situations provide opportunity. In all of this, there is so many chances to be what I know I am. It was a reminder that some battles are just lifelong. But I am safe. And I am loved.