Flood of Emotions
It's just damn nice outside today. Fall is here even though Indian summer is still lurking in the shadows. I had plans today - they involved being around people. I changed them. Ok, so I ducked out on them. Whatever. I wanted to be alone.
My mind has been going 400 mph in a stew...yes a stew...of emotions. (I haven't ate for a while, feeling hungry. Just deal with the food references). Lisa and I have worked on slowing my thinking down. Taming the racing thoughts. But this is different. I want to ponder so many things: changes, feelings, choices, events, memories, thoughts, and so on. It's all there. Yes, stew. There they all are, all screaming "pick me! pick me!" It's a little overwhelming, so instead of picking one, I step away from all. Breathe in deep, hold, breathe out slow. Lather, rinse, repeat. No longer screaming, they all sit there and stare at me. Ali always did that. After a while you could feel her eyes on you. She never begged, she just stared. Sometimes when I was sleeping she would stand over me and just stare. That didn't take long to get my attention. Take what you want, just quit staring at me!!!! And so the stew stares at me. Nope, stew reference not going to work anymore. I've fought too many years to not be clinically crazy. Discussing how stew is staring at me is not a good place to go in order to maintain my saneness. So, give them some kind of solidity, but not stew.
There is fear here. There are all these things to pick up, to look at, to examine, to experience. Many have sat there for an awfully long time. I'm not sure what they even truly feel like anymore. Some I have developed my own ideas of what they might feel like - good or bad - but am still a bit weary to pick them up and see if that is how it really is. These things are a part of me and if I am to become whole, I must at least become acquainted with them....again.
I find I want to sit quietly and watch them move about. Not ready to touch them or even let them know I am observing from afar. How do these things move? What are they doing? What is their purpose? How do they interact with the others? If it were an orchestra I would listen closely, picking out each instrument and singling its melody from the others (I can do that, actually. It's an amazing gift.) As I listen to each part I decide what instrument draws me in more, which am I intrigued by, which do I have a desire to listen to more, which do I want to pick up and try. And then even deeper. Where is my place? First chair, last chair, second part? The deepest melodies are not always on the top line. Some of the most powerful music comes from the secondary parts. Sopranos and violins may get the glory, but altos and cellos support the pedestals they expound from.
Watching does not do a whole lot in a proactive sense. I'm not resolving anything. I'm not making any plans. Most definitely no active choice making going on here. But I am allowing all of us to be here, together, in a moment. When I would get into my "hibernate and hide out" phases a dear friend would tell me that I have to go be out around people. I didn't have to talk to them, nor did I have to interact with them in any way, but I had to be around them. I had to find some peace in being in their presence. They would not hurt me. I trusted her so I would go and do it. They would not hurt me because she said they would not.
Trust comes with chest pains. Yah, you were not expecting that expression, were you? It does. Trust comes with anxiety of allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Trust comes with heartache when you put yourself out there with a chance to get hurt. Trust comes with an uneasiness of the unknown. Therefore, when I trust someone, it is with my life. There is no superficial when I say "I trust you" because if I allow you beyond that wall to even express that phrase, there is some kind of a bond there - you earned the right to hear it, to have it.
I don't trust easily. I am guarded - and for good reason. Wherever that "center of trust" is in one's self, mine is scarred. Wounds that have been made, healed, torn open again until eventually scarred. Universally true or not, I know for me it has always been simple - trust and get hurt. Yet, I still do it. Not as often, but I do still allow people in. On rare occasions, they see those scars and respect them. They understand the privilege of being there and they honor it. Their intentions are to help and to heal, to guide and to teach. To love and to strengthen. They get it. Yet, others step without looking and create new wounds. Luckily - I guess - those who do this at this juncture in my life do it unknowingly. They hurt me and never know it. Seeing that conflict or confrontation are not in my list of traits, I say nothing. I bestow upon them them the "everyone get's one shot" card in place of apology and then the wall goes up. They lose the privilege. Even unintentional, it hurts deep.
Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out slowly. Repeat. The pain does subside. The wounds do heal.
My mind has been going 400 mph in a stew...yes a stew...of emotions. (I haven't ate for a while, feeling hungry. Just deal with the food references). Lisa and I have worked on slowing my thinking down. Taming the racing thoughts. But this is different. I want to ponder so many things: changes, feelings, choices, events, memories, thoughts, and so on. It's all there. Yes, stew. There they all are, all screaming "pick me! pick me!" It's a little overwhelming, so instead of picking one, I step away from all. Breathe in deep, hold, breathe out slow. Lather, rinse, repeat. No longer screaming, they all sit there and stare at me. Ali always did that. After a while you could feel her eyes on you. She never begged, she just stared. Sometimes when I was sleeping she would stand over me and just stare. That didn't take long to get my attention. Take what you want, just quit staring at me!!!! And so the stew stares at me. Nope, stew reference not going to work anymore. I've fought too many years to not be clinically crazy. Discussing how stew is staring at me is not a good place to go in order to maintain my saneness. So, give them some kind of solidity, but not stew.
There is fear here. There are all these things to pick up, to look at, to examine, to experience. Many have sat there for an awfully long time. I'm not sure what they even truly feel like anymore. Some I have developed my own ideas of what they might feel like - good or bad - but am still a bit weary to pick them up and see if that is how it really is. These things are a part of me and if I am to become whole, I must at least become acquainted with them....again.
I find I want to sit quietly and watch them move about. Not ready to touch them or even let them know I am observing from afar. How do these things move? What are they doing? What is their purpose? How do they interact with the others? If it were an orchestra I would listen closely, picking out each instrument and singling its melody from the others (I can do that, actually. It's an amazing gift.) As I listen to each part I decide what instrument draws me in more, which am I intrigued by, which do I have a desire to listen to more, which do I want to pick up and try. And then even deeper. Where is my place? First chair, last chair, second part? The deepest melodies are not always on the top line. Some of the most powerful music comes from the secondary parts. Sopranos and violins may get the glory, but altos and cellos support the pedestals they expound from.
Watching does not do a whole lot in a proactive sense. I'm not resolving anything. I'm not making any plans. Most definitely no active choice making going on here. But I am allowing all of us to be here, together, in a moment. When I would get into my "hibernate and hide out" phases a dear friend would tell me that I have to go be out around people. I didn't have to talk to them, nor did I have to interact with them in any way, but I had to be around them. I had to find some peace in being in their presence. They would not hurt me. I trusted her so I would go and do it. They would not hurt me because she said they would not.
Trust comes with chest pains. Yah, you were not expecting that expression, were you? It does. Trust comes with anxiety of allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Trust comes with heartache when you put yourself out there with a chance to get hurt. Trust comes with an uneasiness of the unknown. Therefore, when I trust someone, it is with my life. There is no superficial when I say "I trust you" because if I allow you beyond that wall to even express that phrase, there is some kind of a bond there - you earned the right to hear it, to have it.
I don't trust easily. I am guarded - and for good reason. Wherever that "center of trust" is in one's self, mine is scarred. Wounds that have been made, healed, torn open again until eventually scarred. Universally true or not, I know for me it has always been simple - trust and get hurt. Yet, I still do it. Not as often, but I do still allow people in. On rare occasions, they see those scars and respect them. They understand the privilege of being there and they honor it. Their intentions are to help and to heal, to guide and to teach. To love and to strengthen. They get it. Yet, others step without looking and create new wounds. Luckily - I guess - those who do this at this juncture in my life do it unknowingly. They hurt me and never know it. Seeing that conflict or confrontation are not in my list of traits, I say nothing. I bestow upon them them the "everyone get's one shot" card in place of apology and then the wall goes up. They lose the privilege. Even unintentional, it hurts deep.
Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out slowly. Repeat. The pain does subside. The wounds do heal.