Becoming Whole Again
I'm starting to become myself again, I thought. As deeply as I missed Paladin, it was nice to reclaim myself. My inner child was coming forth in more and more ways.
.
Saturday I began writing a fantasy novel again for the first time in over four years. It was something I thought I couldn't do as long as I kept up that mindset of having to work. But staying in Hibiscus's guest room and feeling cared for in ways I hadn't in a long time - namely, having food provided for me - made me feel safe again. I could be childlike again.
.
Sunday morning I spent another couple of hours building with legos. I was getting better and dropping into the zen of it, finding the rhythm where I could simply focus on the piece I wanted and find it in a matter of seconds with no interlude of frustration. Otter, his daughters, and Polecat's son all remarked on how remarkable what I was building was. Only Polecat didn't comment. I had a feeling that she was uncomfortable with my presence, but her smiles seemed genuine enough. Perhaps I was just an enigma to her, and that made her wary.
.
Later that afternoon I read from mom, "I thought I should mention that you should prepare to be thoroughly impressed with Paladin's work when you get home. I won't spoil any surprises, but he has worked very hard to make the apartment more comfortable for you, and will need appropriate praise. And incidentally, he and I have been getting along famously. Don't know why."
.
I replied, "I'm so glad to hear you two are getting along. I think much of his friction comes indirectly from me. If he sees stress in me and can somehow blame you, then he doesn't have to blame himself (which he already does constantly)."
.
I thought to a recent shower I took where the words "deadly guilt" popped out on me on the Dr. Bronner's soap bottle. It was a chronic pattern in Paladin and Hisbicus. Therefor it had to be one in me too. Yes. That makes sense, I thought. It's my drive to be 'productive' and my drive to be a concubine of sorts. It's guilt. It's a need to pull my own weight. It's a need to prove myself and my worth.
.
"He feels terribly guilty if I'm not incredibly happy all the time," I continued writing to my mom. "And especially guilty if he can find any logical way to blame himself. I suspect spending this time apart has been very, very good for both of us. I'm glad we found a way to do it where he could feel productive, and where I could feel nurtured and playful."
.
And I get to feel productive too, I thought. I had spent over two hours novel-writing the previous day and nearly two hours already that day. I can't believe I ever let myself stop writing. I was born to write, I thought. I'm an artist, a writer, a board game designer. Letting go of any piece of myself is a death. Now I'm collecting all the pieces again. I'm coming back to life.
.
It brought new meaning to the concept of resurrection.
.
Hibiscus, who was away for the weekend, also wrote to me. I had sent him access to my journal. He wrote, "It is very interesting to hear Paladin's voice, and I hear in that how devoted he is to you. Not a surprise. And hearing your parents' voices, and how they both line up with, and differ from, what I might have imagined.
.
"It was when I got to the following that I felt an immediate need to write you, and am acting on that now: 'I think I'd like to process in a forest sometime, and try again to release resistance more fully, where I can feel safe to be as angry as I want, and act on it as I want, without feeling in any danger of hurting/regretting anything.' This resonated with me. Although I can see it is somewhat contrary to the goals you expressed, I'm wondering if we could plan to go to a forest together sometime after I return. It feels like something I'd like to share with you."
.
I nodded to myself. Yes, that made sense. Of course Hibiscus would have repressed anger as well. Didn't we all?
.
I felt some trepidation about it. Why haven't I done this already? I've had plenty of opportunity to try out this idea on this trip, but not once have I ventured off to go vent my anger in the wild. Why not? What am I afraid of? Failing to be angry?
.
"Although I will soon need to go to sleep, a part of me wants to keep reading your journal as a way of feeling closer to you," Hibiscus continued. I nodded again. I thought he might feel that way. I knew I felt that way about letters and journaling.
.
"I was (oddly) struck by this comment: 'Then I recalled the movie that had ended my ability to watch horror movies: The Ring.' I think I was particularly struck because this was essentially both the first and last horror movie that I watched. The Ring looms large in my mental ick-space. Sending you a psychic hug and a gentle caress of the top of your head. Hibiscus."
.
I solemnly agreed. That movie was not just creepy - it was deep, especially when one watches the second one, which oddly, I did. Why did I agree to see the second one after the first one had bothered me so much? Perhaps because I desperately sought some sort of closure. I felt that the story was not complete. I wanted to reach into the movie and find the little girl and hold her, and yet I was terrified of her.
.
Like the little girl in myself that I'm too afraid to comfort.
.
I hung my head for a moment and then perked up. But now, here at Otter's Eco Village I can feel free. I can play, laugh and dance and interact with nature. There are friends to play games with, and a loving soul - Hibiscus - to speak with in the evenings.
.
My chest vibrated and felt warm and complete. Flyleaf's song All Around Me, which had been continually running through my head, at that moment played in my mind: Savoring this heart that's healing.
.
Earlier that day I had attempted to sing that song to Paladin over voicemail. I wondered how it sounded to him, and what he would feel when he listened to it.
.
I really am becoming whole again. I've stopped worrying about Oryx. I've stopped fixating on Mermaid or Gongchan or some other fantasy or sexual outlet. I'm more conscious about food. I'm exercising more. I'm so glad I'm here.
.
Saturday I began writing a fantasy novel again for the first time in over four years. It was something I thought I couldn't do as long as I kept up that mindset of having to work. But staying in Hibiscus's guest room and feeling cared for in ways I hadn't in a long time - namely, having food provided for me - made me feel safe again. I could be childlike again.
.
Sunday morning I spent another couple of hours building with legos. I was getting better and dropping into the zen of it, finding the rhythm where I could simply focus on the piece I wanted and find it in a matter of seconds with no interlude of frustration. Otter, his daughters, and Polecat's son all remarked on how remarkable what I was building was. Only Polecat didn't comment. I had a feeling that she was uncomfortable with my presence, but her smiles seemed genuine enough. Perhaps I was just an enigma to her, and that made her wary.
.
Later that afternoon I read from mom, "I thought I should mention that you should prepare to be thoroughly impressed with Paladin's work when you get home. I won't spoil any surprises, but he has worked very hard to make the apartment more comfortable for you, and will need appropriate praise. And incidentally, he and I have been getting along famously. Don't know why."
.
I replied, "I'm so glad to hear you two are getting along. I think much of his friction comes indirectly from me. If he sees stress in me and can somehow blame you, then he doesn't have to blame himself (which he already does constantly)."
.
I thought to a recent shower I took where the words "deadly guilt" popped out on me on the Dr. Bronner's soap bottle. It was a chronic pattern in Paladin and Hisbicus. Therefor it had to be one in me too. Yes. That makes sense, I thought. It's my drive to be 'productive' and my drive to be a concubine of sorts. It's guilt. It's a need to pull my own weight. It's a need to prove myself and my worth.
.
"He feels terribly guilty if I'm not incredibly happy all the time," I continued writing to my mom. "And especially guilty if he can find any logical way to blame himself. I suspect spending this time apart has been very, very good for both of us. I'm glad we found a way to do it where he could feel productive, and where I could feel nurtured and playful."
.
And I get to feel productive too, I thought. I had spent over two hours novel-writing the previous day and nearly two hours already that day. I can't believe I ever let myself stop writing. I was born to write, I thought. I'm an artist, a writer, a board game designer. Letting go of any piece of myself is a death. Now I'm collecting all the pieces again. I'm coming back to life.
.
It brought new meaning to the concept of resurrection.
.
Hibiscus, who was away for the weekend, also wrote to me. I had sent him access to my journal. He wrote, "It is very interesting to hear Paladin's voice, and I hear in that how devoted he is to you. Not a surprise. And hearing your parents' voices, and how they both line up with, and differ from, what I might have imagined.
.
"It was when I got to the following that I felt an immediate need to write you, and am acting on that now: 'I think I'd like to process in a forest sometime, and try again to release resistance more fully, where I can feel safe to be as angry as I want, and act on it as I want, without feeling in any danger of hurting/regretting anything.' This resonated with me. Although I can see it is somewhat contrary to the goals you expressed, I'm wondering if we could plan to go to a forest together sometime after I return. It feels like something I'd like to share with you."
.
I nodded to myself. Yes, that made sense. Of course Hibiscus would have repressed anger as well. Didn't we all?
.
I felt some trepidation about it. Why haven't I done this already? I've had plenty of opportunity to try out this idea on this trip, but not once have I ventured off to go vent my anger in the wild. Why not? What am I afraid of? Failing to be angry?
.
"Although I will soon need to go to sleep, a part of me wants to keep reading your journal as a way of feeling closer to you," Hibiscus continued. I nodded again. I thought he might feel that way. I knew I felt that way about letters and journaling.
.
"I was (oddly) struck by this comment: 'Then I recalled the movie that had ended my ability to watch horror movies: The Ring.' I think I was particularly struck because this was essentially both the first and last horror movie that I watched. The Ring looms large in my mental ick-space. Sending you a psychic hug and a gentle caress of the top of your head. Hibiscus."
.
I solemnly agreed. That movie was not just creepy - it was deep, especially when one watches the second one, which oddly, I did. Why did I agree to see the second one after the first one had bothered me so much? Perhaps because I desperately sought some sort of closure. I felt that the story was not complete. I wanted to reach into the movie and find the little girl and hold her, and yet I was terrified of her.
.
Like the little girl in myself that I'm too afraid to comfort.
.
I hung my head for a moment and then perked up. But now, here at Otter's Eco Village I can feel free. I can play, laugh and dance and interact with nature. There are friends to play games with, and a loving soul - Hibiscus - to speak with in the evenings.
.
My chest vibrated and felt warm and complete. Flyleaf's song All Around Me, which had been continually running through my head, at that moment played in my mind: Savoring this heart that's healing.
.
Earlier that day I had attempted to sing that song to Paladin over voicemail. I wondered how it sounded to him, and what he would feel when he listened to it.
.
I really am becoming whole again. I've stopped worrying about Oryx. I've stopped fixating on Mermaid or Gongchan or some other fantasy or sexual outlet. I'm more conscious about food. I'm exercising more. I'm so glad I'm here.