I live my life through the words I write
For most of my life
I have struggled
and do struggle
to see the forest
rather than the trees.
The split seconds
the brief and beautiful moments
where all I can see is the forest
the unified whole
seem so fleeting
when my gaze habitually resumes
onto individual trees
my heart shatters
at the let down
at the loss
at the implied regression.
Pause.
Breathe.
Zoom out.
See the forest
beyond
and within.
It’s always there.
My counselor,
her name is Marcela,
assigned homework for me
during my last therapy session.
She said I had to go out
buy a notebook of visual appeal
alongside a high-grade pen.
The idea was to stimulate my creativity
with a notebook I liked to look at
and a pen I liked to write with
to make the experience enjoyable and enticing
to draw me in
to create for the sake of creating
to help me re-connect with this part of me
that, at times, seems to be fading.
So
one day after work I went to the bookstore.
I looked for a journal to catch my eye.
Funny how, at the same time,
my mind automatically eliminated some
because they looked too expensive.
Or,
I would find one that looked pretty
but my mind would convince me it wasn’t right
because of the size
because of the binding
because of the line spacing
because of the ‘fanciness’
because of the price.
If any journal held these qualities too well,
I told myself,
I would feel inherent pressure
to create content of high esteem, high value,
worthy enough to live between its covers
thereby creating more pressure
and likely, shying away from
scribbling out thoughts
for the mere purpose of releasing them.
What should have been instinctual
and taken seconds
took me minutes and minutes
standing in front of the journals
wrestling with my mind.
At last, I landed on this one.
Different than any I’ve had before
a thought-provoking cover
and on sale.
I chose a package of pens
I knew I would like
even though I could clearly see
the dozens of unused, good-enough pens
waiting at home.
A new journal
a new pen
starting a new journey
while I was away from home
in the mountains
looking for a reset
seemed fitting.
Connecting the stars within me
into constellations
bringing me back to myself
one page at a time
ink and words flowing.
I trust
that right now
my body and mind need rest.
I trust
that my body and mind
are recuperating, in alignment with their needs.
I trust
that feeling good, feeling happy,
tells me my body and mind
are receiving what they need
and that it’s OK for me to feel good right now.
I trust
that I do not need to stay in the misery
to justify or exemplify
the pain residing still in my body
for it may never leave.
I trust
that I am right where I need to be.
I trust
that my body and mind will tell me
in their own way
when they are ready, again.
Standing in a river
waist-deep
feel the energy required
in your deepest muscles
to fight against the current
to stay still
where you are.
The river, the water, the current,
your life,
wants to sweep you away
in flow
but you resist.
Feel the energy required
to resist the flow of life.
You want to stay, here, or there,
but wouldn’t it be easier
to relax your muscles
lift your feet from the riverbed
and submit to the current?
Parts of the forest
can be seen and appreciated only
from the river’s view.
Relinquish control
release the past
and let the water carry you.
I don’t know what’s next
or when
all I know
is that where I am
is good for now.
For the part of my brain
that thrives on planning
having no concrete plan
leaves me wondering what to do
like putting one foot in front of the other
in a pitch black room
I have never been in before
earnestly reaching out for anything
any clue of place or floorplan
taking the wrong step
feels scarier
than taking no step at all.
Eventually
my eyes will adjust to the darkness
if only slightly.
I need to keep moving
somehow.
Small, cautious steps
are better than none –
I whisper to myself
over and over.
Rewiring my brain
thought by thought
step by step.
Reading passages
over and over
but not like last time
with that other book
this time
I read the passages
over and over
for the comfort they offer
and sensations they generate
within my body
reminding me
to be vulnerable
to release through art
to create
to let go of perfectionism
to just be
with the people who know me
and even those who don’t
like she did
with the guy who wanted to know her
who didn’t run away
waited for her
until she was tired of hiding
and bared all to him
and they promised
to help each other
no matter how broken
they both feel
because no one is broken.
– Inspired by the book “The Words We Keep” by Erin Stewart
When you share an intention with someone else, usually, that carries with it an added layer of accountability. Now, not only have you given a voice to the thoughts traveling around inside your head, but the voice has landed upon the ears of other people. It’s not just you anymore.
But what do you do, when you want to change your mind?
You’re no longer the only person that knows. Other people know. What will they think of you, knowing that while you seemed so sure, so prepared just a little while ago, now you’ve retreated back to the timid and apprehensive version of yourself that believes they can handle the journey up this mountain on their own?
They might make you out to be a fraud. They might believe you are too scared to face whatever you think you need to face. They might think less of you, they might consider themselves to be superior to you. They may call you weak, or arrogant, or in over your head.
Or, they might just understand what you’re going through.
Only the people who have traveled a similar path can understand the terror, the uncertainty, the vulnerability, the bravery that comes with sharing your needs with someone other than yourself. It requires a new kind of strength.
Admitting that you need to talk to someone, admitting that you have reached a new point where you feel more fear than excitement for your future, admitting that you don’t know where to go on your own, admitting that you need help – these don’t make you any less than. In fact, they make you more than. Feeling uncertainty about your decision after you’ve ‘taken your stance’ is normal.
Use your knowing of others’ awareness of your current experience not as a rope tying you to an anchor, but as a rope connecting you to a lifeboat; available to you when you need some additional support.
You will be OK. You have a fleet of lifeboats ready and waiting to carry you to safety.
I want to talk about what happened
but I fear it will hurt too much
to re-enter that space now,
days later,
like traveling back in time
to feel those thoughts and feelings again
so I can write about them.
I don’t know how
to assign words, to gift cadence,
to those moments of emotional overwhelm.
But I will try.
My lungs shriveled up like raisins
in a rubble-piled chest
unable to take a full, deep, expansive breath
for three days.
My heartbeat slowed as my nerves turned numb
retreating from sensation
towards any stimulation.
The panic, the pain,
the fear rose above me like a tidal wave
and crashed,
holding me down, in the water
and thrashing currents,
tossing my body as though it were
nothing more than a thin branch
broken off from a shoreline tree
in the wind.
I felt it all
in real time
for days.
The fear, pure and raw,
scared me the most
ironically.
Now, these days later,
my lungs are plump grapes
eager and able to take deeper breaths.
The panic, pain and fear
have settled like sand at the bottom of the ocean,
but the numbness remains,
uncertain if it’s supposed to dissipate naturally with time
or if its lingering presence signifies
issues remaining unresolved.
The more I talk about it,
the more I write about it,
the harder it becomes to dismiss
the truth pulsing through my blood.
The truth cannot be avoided forever;
it will not dissipate with time.
I must continue talking about it
I must continue writing about it
I must continue revisiting the vulnerability
of sitting in the spaces of purity
to understand,
and to move forward.
Feet, paws, crunch gravel
Move from mind into body
Nature can heal us.
Dawning Words 