A Good Bad Dream

I was outside my house, the one on Hollyhock, in the front yard underneath a tree. I was working on my bike. I wasn’t allowed back inside. I felt the sunshine on my face coming through the tree in a semi rhythmic way as the wind gently blew the leaves, I was shaded then unshaded. I felt the warm breeze dry the tears from my cheeks. There was no specific reason for the tears I couldn’t tell if they were happy or sad. There was only a vague sense of unease filling me. Unable to remember the cause, fear stirring inside me. I knew I had to go and there wasn’t much time. I had to leave before who? what?

I tried to ride off, but the chain kept slipping and skipping. Wishing I had my own tools I was forced to go back. Sitting in the dirt I tried to tighten the chain without success. I cut the palm of my hand removing a link from the chain. The blood was mixing with the dirt and grease on the bicycle chain. I got distracted watching it drip from my hand onto an ant that had gotten in the way. I had nothing to clean the wound with, so I wiped my hand on my pant leg. The cut was deep, it burned and throbbed but I wasn’t allowed back inside.

I rode off again but in the way that usually happens in dreams, it became a big truck. The sun’s glare was in my eyes and I was having a hard time seeing. It was so bright it was burning my eyes and making my head ache. I felt responsible to keep going even though I felt out of control. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew to drive and go fast. I was angry I felt betrayed, but I couldn’t articulate the reasons for it in my head. I had hot angry tears that wouldn’t quite fall from my eyes. The a/c was blowing hot dusty stale air in my face further irritating me. I just knew I was not going to be allowed back inside.

 I wake up clenching my jaw and my hands in fists in the morning.

Gifts

I’m not turning away I’m trying to understand.

Allowing the muscles to spasm, pulling my shoulders back, head forward. I don’t fight my grief, I scream from deep inside my belly at what is lost, what is gone.

After my breath has been exhausted my visitor departs. I lay on my bed head pounding, eyes burning with bitter tears. I let the pain flow through me and embrace me. I embrace it in return until it dissipates and I understand.

I HAD A PLAN

Sitting with my heart.

Life bangs me up sometimes. I get rocked about. Battered, bruised my vulnerable heart sometimes cries. Miraculously it survives.

Sadness softens when I sit with it now and then. The intensity of the pain goes down a tiny notch.

Rest deepens with reflection on all the love I received, smiles and hugs.

Death has no mastery.

Me llegó el momento

That I’m able to quiet my thoughts through meditation, even when it’s only a few minutes at a time, has deeply affected my life and sanity. I don’t constantly feel a vague sense of hopeless unease. I’m able go longer between attacks by the mean voice in my head that tries to convince me that I’m worthless, stupid, unloved and unworthy of anyone’s friendship. I can sleep most nights without nightmares. I don’t stay up ruminating and regretting. I recognize that I’m enough.

Weak

I’ve been struggling. Much has happened since last year that has had a tremendous impact on me. It has translated into an inability to keep from breaking down into anxiety.

It is so hard for me to accept that my strength and self-denial can’t overcome depression or a panic attack. My mind can’t bully my body into behaving this time. It isn’t easy like learning not to shiver in the cold or not feel hunger.

I hate the knowledge I’ve been granted about the existence of someone fragile and vulnerable that makes up a part of me. He has a need to be handled gently, kindly and with love. He wants to be able to rest and lay down his armor without fear of attack.

I have to acknowledge his need to exist alongside all my selves.