
You want everyone to know and you want no one to know and somewhere inbetween lies not the truth necessarily but the reality. It all gets a bit jumbled inside that mind of yours which is where the trouble starts and ends and starts again on repeat for your whole life. After two decades of cutting yourself short before you could ever deal with hard stuff it can be confusing and overwhelming when all the previously pent up emotions come crashing forward in waves of tears or fury or exhaustion.
I guess I’d say that’s where I am now it seems. I am very tired. I mean I sleep beautifully and I am ‘well-rested’ in that sense but emotionally, feelingly, I am very, very tired. I am not used to holding up the weight of feeling everything without abandoning it. It can feel quite glaring. It can feel like your skin is being burned off your bones. Exposure. The bareness of shedding years and years of protection, armor, calloused skin. Life is an exposed nerve.
This weekend is the Easter stuff. I like to read about and think about and celebrate the way the pagans once did, way back before the organized religions capsized the raw beauty of nature and cycles and seasons. Rebirth. Renewal. All the gorgeous bursts of brand new life sprouting and shaking easily in the cool spring winds. There is warmth in the veins of the trees. They spread their wild fingers out into the frigid morning air. They think not about fear. They do not shrink. They reach and reach because the reaching must be done.
For over a decade I wanted to be a sober person. I was so jealous of sober people. How much sweeter a life it must be to drop the act. Finally put a stop to the torture in the mind which is divided against itself. Drink / don’t drink. Drink / don’t drink. Do I or don’t I have a problem. Can I or can’t I keep this up. Will I or won’t I ever get better.
Life. Death. Resurrection. First the pain then the waiting then the rising. Spirals and tendrils and coincidences and miracles and mistakes and all the time, all the lives, you can never get back. The moon will be a full one this Easter season. We cry and we crawl and we fly and we turn, turn, turn, like that song about seasons which is really about the parts of the soul we try so hard to understand. We run and we fall and we dance again.
We run and we fall and we dance again. Very true. π
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Thank the stars in the heavens it is true. π
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Waking up after 35 years of emotional constipation… that’s how I describe it. And the tears haven’t stopped in the three years since… but now, they are tears that come when I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of life.
You are brave and beautiful, friend. Thank you for sharing yourself with us.
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God how I needed to hear that. Thank you from the depths of my exhausted heart. Respect and love to you. π€π€π€
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Thank you. That was beautiful π
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I am so deeply grateful you found it so. Thank you. π€π
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I am still seeing trees π²
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Mmmm trees are my spirit animal β¦ π₯°
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ππΆβ€οΈ
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β€οΈ
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Your clarity is phenomenal as if your words had cataract surgery (thatβs an old persons metaphor)! You get right to the core of things. And those of us still stumbling in the dark have this glimpse of sacred light. Keep spreading the truth. Hugs, C
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Haha, oh C. How I cherish your words to me. They go right to my soul and give me life. Thank you endlessly. Big hugs. π€π€π€
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Your words pierce the readers’ soul in the most beautiful way possible. π
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I could not be more humbled or more grateful to hear this from you, Anaida. Thank you endless. π€π€π€
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β€οΈπΉβ€οΈ
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The art of unpacking what we no longer want to carry can be challenging in itself. Every emotion wants a turn but no one likes to wait in line. Thank you for sharing, Allison and may love and light be upon you~π
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Beautifully said. Thank you so much. π€π
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