Getting Messy

 Those moments.

The ones where I feel stuck.

Like this is going to last forever.

I still detest those times.

Yesterday afternoon, a boatload of feelings decided to visit me while shopping at Target (of all places). Why is it that the insoluble, grab hold of everything negative, torrent of grief and sadness will show up, unannounced, in a crowded store, on a saturday afternoon?

My life is good. No . . . It's amazing! I have waded through things (with help and love of others) that can be debilitating to the human spirit. Dynamics I have personally witnessed that led to the destruction of others like me. Histories that, in simply laying out the details, can traumatize the listener.

And yet, there are people stronger than my past, who have stood by and been my guides. People who have loved and honored me. Walked with me, given me permission to pick up and put down my stuff for whatever duration. I have received so much empathy, validation, and understanding in my journey along this path to survival and a fruit bearing life.

But when these brick walls of gut-wrenching grief tumble in, I can't see my way to any of it. All I feel is danger, and a need to have big space, even from those that would love me. My old defenses kick in, and I take on the armor of anger and resentment. My tools of recovery are replaced with weapons of spite and injury.

So yesterday, I did something courageous. I walked out of the store with my partner, got in our vehicle, and started to cry. Instead of turning up sarcasm, or targeting (pardon the pun) someone I love with criticism, I opened the tap to grief, and let it pour out.

I spoke of my plans for the immediate future. I talked about calling folks in recovery, and giving voice (again!) to the way that history can invade my psyche and feel like eminent danger.

Then we drove home. I sat in the driveway and did some talk therapy on the phone. Even in this, I stumbled and let my anger and fear of not being heard get ahead of me. But people with similar histories and recovery can be such understanding souls. I abruptly ended the call . . . And made another one. The second call involved owning how my reaction was over the top, and what to do to get grounded again.

Sometimes I think, "When can I just be DONE! With all of this?" I don't want a life where I am constantly working on my past. I want to be able to enjoy my life, as it sits, today. I want to let go of all that bad stuff, and just live.

Ironically, this thinking is emblematic of my being stuck in the past. No-one truly wants to suffer. And being aware of trauma, as difficult as that is, holds the key to my release.

This messy, wonderful work, allows me to have the life I am present for today. The work makes room for me to see when I'm playing out a dynamic of needless suffering in my personal and professional life. The work encourages me to nurture, and care for myself. The work enables me to set boundaries, even in the most uncomfortable of situations. The work has infinite rewards for myself, and how I love and interact with others.

But I don't see that, when it hurts.

That's why I cannot do this work alone.

M