I woke up too early. There were noises around me, water running into the bathtub, birds singing their morning songs, dogs joining in the chorus with spirited barking.
I did not open my eyes, I did not want to enter the day just yet.
In the hazy, undefined space I felt love … it didn’t feel good … I was not quite myself there, not all the way real … there was unconsciousness there, trauma …
Childhood trauma, that’s what it was.
I looked there, the unconscious place opened and drifted away and I was present, present in relationship as what I am, in relationship with what he is… [click to continue…]
Christopher sits in front of me. He is angry, angry at how I’ve been, at how I talked, at how I behaved. He talks and talks and talks. An endless litany of words that push me, poke me, assault me.
My mouth pressed together into a thin, angry line, my body rigid. I stare at him, unblinking, hardening with his every word. I am not angry, I am hardening my body into an armor.
He doesn’t talk now and I stare at him. I will have to say something soon, he waits for me to say something. But I can’t. I am so rigid, hidden so far behind my defenses now that all I can think to say are sarcastic, angry things. Words that will push him away, that will stop his words, that will let me escape.
I don’t want to say those words, I see what they are, I see what they are for, I see that they are not real. I can’t say anything that is real.
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When did you begin to feel the need to settle down in one place? Had the urge to move on, to go somewhere else, ever went away entirely?
Because I am still feeling it, and with every decision to move I wonder how many of the rational arguments are there only to cover up the fact that I stayed in one place long enough, that I need to go.
Not that I mind it, this need to go to another place. I have nothing that keeps me anywhere. I do not get attached to people and I chose a profession that doesn’t require me to be anywhere in particular. I organized my life around my need to move, because when I stay too long in one place … I get bored.
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The reality has shifted. I discovered it yesterday.
There is a story I was working on since last year, since the day I wandered over the mountain trails at twilight and a story came to me, whole and complete. It was a story about the end of the world.
There was something in the story, something that grabbed me. It was a variation on the apocalypse theme, with Earth shifting and changing rapidly to regain it’s balance, and human world being destroyed in the process. Cities were burned, leveled, flooded by tsunamis, wild fires, volcano eruptions, earthquakes. It was an epic story about reality changing.
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I read a story today, written by a woman who found out that, due to her genetic code, she has about 80% chance of contracting breast and ovarian cancer. She chose, therefore, to have both her breasts and her ovaries removed. As a preventive measure.
I sat with this article all day today, rolling it this way and that. It seemed such a drastic reaction, such a heavy handed, barbaric reaction. “If your hand offends you, cut it off” sort of reaction. To mutilate oneself to prevent something that might not even happen.
But then it might happen.
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I woke up too early. There were noises around me, water running into the bathtub, birds singing their morning songs, dogs joining in the chorus with spirited barking.
