Day 446.

Yeah, so, this is what I look like when I've been crying . . . as you may or may not recall, depending upon how many times you have secretly visited me here, practicing voyeurism in tandem with my online exhibitionism. Looking at my pictures, getting glimpses into my thoughts and my heart, and occasionally my companions, but so rarely into the facts and happenings in my life.


Everything cycles back to the unhealed places, over and over again. When I'm honest with my heart, it holds me accountable. It doesn't let me pretend that things are resolved when they are not. It doesn't let me ignore the big gaping wounds I have been dancing around. A couple of weeks ago, at the POC sit at EBMC, Alice Walker said a thing or recited a line about the punctures we circle for years. I wish I could remember what it was exactly. It made me gasp the moment she said it. It made me not want to do that. And so I'm taking steps to deal with these residual hurts differently.

She also said that love doesn't leave a mess. And I think I snorted and laughed at that, and she noticed, and said, "No, really." I want to believe this wise elder, but I am skeptical. If it does leave an unresolved mess forever, does that mean it wasn't love, then? What if I die before this shit gets resolved? No, really? Does that mean it was not love? Don't lives end in the midst of messes all the time?

I'm confused about so much. I'm having so many feelings that I don't think humans have come up with names for yet, and it's exhausting. I think a new safety mechanism I will need to create soon will have to be some kind of entirely intellectual hobby. I can't even escape my feelings when I engage in activities that are really body-based. Somatics has basically made it so I am aware of what's up with my emotions and my brain and my body and all of the connections waaaaay more than ever before. And next I think I need to practice shutting that off sometimes as a safety measure.

This shit is HARD.