What’s there to say about July

There was volunteering at Folk Fest, Girl’s Night, music at the Majestic, Sound Symposium, PRIDE, and new friends, an avalanche of “Yes’s”. It was busy but there were also quiet moments of reflection. And yet I don’t know how to share all that because the thing is any boasting of good fortune or good times feels neglectful of the anguish that stood there beside it.

I’m acknowledging, accepting, and embracing pain in the process of healing and I’m doing it loudly and publicly. I’m doing art therapy with an audience because there is power in making pain visible. I worry sometimes that others may not understand why I feel so strongly about sharing my pain. I get concerned people may take things the wrong way, be offended, but the thing is as much as my life, including people in it, inspire my writing, in really its all about me. My healing is first and foremost for me.

I am sitting in my feelings and embracing the totality of myself. And so I cry in my car, and the shed, and while walking down the Trailway. I spend hours organizing and planning so that my dreams don’t fall through the cracks of my terra cotta exterior. I text friends when I’d rather say nothing. I carry a notebook everywhere and journal about anything. I say yes. I go to events in my community. I ask for help. I dance in my kitchen. I make art. Because the only way out is through and I’m running head first into life.
I’m learning to not just tolerate but embrace my pain and the more comfortable that embrace becomes the easier it is to be present in the pleasures of life. But as the fog of pain clears enough for me to see the world around me loneliness is emerging as an ever present companion.

I’m learning about the deep chism that exists between a life in pursuit of healing and the sea of lives calmly floating through. For now I cling to the potential of things that may be. But there’s little solace in “eventually” and sometimes I get infuriated that all I can do is keep on moving forward and being open and keeping hope. Because there has to be more than moving untethered through the existential dread of existence. I know trauma changes you. I know I can never go back to who I was but I do imagine there is another version of myself connected to something more.

For now my connections are tenuous but I carry on. I know from experience I must remain open, continue to not just exist but engage with the world. Our relationship with our own and others’ humanity is the ultimate improvisation.

I’m allowing myself to want, to imagine a future. And to everyone who has and will ask me what comes next, love. My plans are to be uncompromising in my pursuit of love for myself and others.

I want hugs so encompassing I feel your heart beat with mine
I want to listen and make space
I want laughter so deep and loud nothing else exists in that moment
I want joy and happiness that rivals my deepest darkest trauma
I want late nights dreamimg of the future
Long walks and discussions of deconstructing
I want it all with each and every one of you
Because standing silently in a sea of niceness is just about the loneliest place I’ve ever been