Pulling the curtain aside for a moment...
Here's the deal. Many, many things have been wrong in my world for too long a time. I've done the obligatory fighting and flailing, acquiesced numbly, dissociated, and finally came up against a thick wall there was just no getting around. Maybe it started with happening upon demons, but that really was just the start.
So I did what any modern girl would do who finds herself faced with a giant wall and unable to move forward. I bought some spiritual books, started meditating like my life depended on it, did yoga, went for long contemplative walks, stopped all but the absolute necessary tasks of life, and got myself an awesome therapist. Who? Promptly diagnosed me with Complex PTSD. As the therapist so sweetly explained it, I've lived the majority of my life in a "trauma field", starting in childhood. (My parents had nothing to do with this by the way, and I feel the need to clarify because the parents always get blamed.)
This is already too much sharing for my taste, but it just so happens that I came across the poet Muriel Rukeseyer yesterday who said in the poem Kathe Kollwitz, "What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open." And those two lines played in my head all through my dreams, and as I went about morning chores, and as I worked, and as I watched a movie, and as I bathed myself, and as I sat on the sunlit porch. Muriel challenges us all to tell our stories, as they are, in the raw, stripped down. She demands that we shove off the shore and go ahead and drown a little. Because when we awaken to our stories, when we share our stories, we are not just redeemed, we heal self and other through the finding of common ground in our words.
As an aside, that link to the poem goes to a poorly copied version full of typos. Grand prize to anyone who can find a clean version. And by Grand Prize I mean I'll tell you, "you're awesome! Thanks!"
Don't expect that I'm going to turn this blog into a blow by blow account of my therapy sessions, or parade the elbow-to-elbow demons dancing in a line all the way back to my childhood, but I thought you should at least know that I'm going through a process of breaking and becoming. And of course I challenge you to find your own version of breaking and becoming. I consider it a rite of passage.
Also, consider this your fair warning that I may not be as active here for a time, and if I am to be honest, I have no idea what things will remain and what things will need to be washed away in this process. I suspect that when I emerge from the melting pot I've thrown myself into I'll still want to read your words and write my own, but maybe it will be different. In the meantime, I'll call on the army of word-nerds to guest blog if needed.
My pick this week is the loyal Lance who wrote lovely words about falling in love all over again with his family. It is simple, without drama, without a twist at the end, but it is honest and noble.
What I Did on My Summer Vacation
My wife and I thought forward thinking would be to stay home for a vacation. We took our 3 daughters to the zoo, library and the park. The kids taught me their favorite pop songs, changing tastes and styles. I heard, "she's looking at me", and, "it's too hot to play outside daddy, what are you doing?", 327 times each. Nancy Grace yelled at me about Casey Anthony. We got rained out at the pool.
What did I do on my summer vacation? I fell in love with my family again and again. I'm ready to get back to slaving for the man.
Your family is lucky to have you Lance.
The word this week is from the aforementioned poem: