Monday, Jan. 21, 2019 @ 12:07 am
We avoid each other.
He talks at me briefly. The same circular and repetitive lecture. There's no room for me to respond, and he does not ask questions. Full of 'you always'' and 'you nevers'.
He leaves the house for a few hours. I leave the house for a few hours.
We find ourselves face to face, accidentally.
Another pointless lecture. I feel dead inside and have no capacity to respond. There's no point in responding, it just fuels his lecture.
He yells at me from across the room, "YOU'RE FUCKING PSYCHOTIC!!!"
I leave and go to yoga class.
I see two friends, and it's reassuring to be in the warm space with people that I feel safe around. I allow myself this, a time away from thinking.
I flow through it all, pushing thoughts aside, focusing on my breath. The teacher puts us into a long pose. A three minute hold. She coaches us through the feelings that come up. At minute one, I start to shake. At minute two, my breath quickens and I start to panic. At minute three, the tears start, and my breathing goes jumpy, and the tears are splatting down on my mat. I collapse into child's pose, and I'm shuddering and trying to be quiet. I finish the remainder of the class with tears clinging to my face. At the end of class, the teacher looks at me, makes eye contact, and bows slightly. I know that my face is glistening in the candlelight.
At home, I eat dinner alone.
As I finish eating, I remember about the moon. I bundle up and go outside. The sky is inky clear, and the moon is eclipsing. I put on headphones and turn up the music and put a patio chair in the middle of the icy driveway. Watch the earth's shadow cross in front of the moon.
Feelings, which have been buried, will come to the surface as we let go of the past and move towards our next phase in life.
I watch the moon fade into shadow, then turn red. Swirling ephemeral red on the shadowy face. The night cold, ice beneath my feet. My face still crusted with tears.
Embrace bravery and assert your will at all costs.
This town. I live in the mountains and have community. I breathe in the cold air and watch the red swirling moon. Other constellations punctuate the sky. The neighbours on both sides are on their porches, and the teenage boy is in the middle of the road with his telescope. I'm grateful that I got to be a part of this, that I had the opportunity to live in such an idyllic place.
Two pieces of my heart will always be here. A broken part and a full part. This place will forever be the place where I stood up, where I dropped my poles, where I leaped into the abyss.
No matter what obstacles are put in our way, we must fight for our selves, the hunger that is buried in our hearts—the parts of ourselves that we have ignored are yearning to be seen.