I’m going through withdrawals. Literal withdrawals from being out of my anxiety medicine. It’s a problem I can rectify soon, but at the moment–withdrawals. As a result, mornings are less peaceful and more scattered than normal. So I’ve had to pick one thing to do rather than my usual routine. Sometimes meditation is easy and what feels right. Today it’s writing. Though words were my second choice…
I wanted him. But in a very different way than I’d ever wanted him before. It was a boundary neither of us ended up being willing or able to cross. I’ve been trying to tell myself a different story about intimacy, about trust. It doesn’t fit me yet but I am hoping maybe I grow into it…or it grows into me. I would love to learn that not all men are selfish. My step dad isn’t. Neither is Ted. So it’s possible. I always thought love affected people in similar ways. It makes us all a little stupid, giddy, reckless, free…we would do anything for the person we love. Not everybody loves like that.
I thought of all the things coming my way. Buds of opportunity. It made me nervous. Here I’d asked God for guidance and support and I was being lead to places that took my breath away. Am I the person to handle this? Am I truly capable?
I held two stones in my hand. One felt smooth and familiar. My palm easily accommodated it and I knew when I tried to skip it down the river, exactly how it would land. I had control with that stone. I had experience. I felt safe. Then there was the other hand that was sweating and gripping a misshapen piece of sharp granite. Beautiful, but queer I didn’t know what to make of it. Was it for keeping? Was it for skipping? I had no idea what to do with it other than hold onto it and wait until an answer arrived. Patience, uncertainty, discomfort. That was this stone. But that is what I asked for. I asked for growth and I promised surrender. Here is my chance to trust.
I feel the kind of vulnerable you feel when you’re naked in front of strangers. Reaching for any piece of acceptable fabric to shield you and provide a sense of discretion, safety, relief. It isn’t always as easy as changing the outfit on a paper doll. Sometimes we just have to stand there and be naked.