chrysalis soup
2017 is yet another year of change, death and rebirth.
Last year, I had a functional nervous breakdown. Functional because I could not afford to stop working and nervous breakdown because I watched myself wither and atrophy.
Relentlessly faced gut wrenching life lessons even though I was desperately retreating from the world waiting and waiting for the hurt to stop.
I've been here before. On my hands and knees. Face covered in dirt. I can’t deny the suspicion of a slight martyr complex. This time though it’s taken a team. A team of people that are generously giving of their time, energy and compassion to help me heal. Some days I doubt it’s working. All these people that I love so much and try so hard but they are not him.
Human nature is one hell of a thing. The wide range of emotions, actions, motivations, needs, literally weaves our fascia together from which we extract our universe. I can understand that he might have wanted to leave. I can understand wanting life experiences and being overwhelmed by the enormity of life. The enormity of breaking free. Traveling. Being a new person. But I can’t seem to swallow all the insult to injury. Viciousness and callousness was at the core of so many of his behaviors. Eventually he got tired of pretending and let it all out. Stopped pretending he cared and blatantly flew his freak flag. And I let him.
Hearing my friends and my therapists agree that I let him and that I now need to let go and move on always seems to land like a hammer on my foot. Again, I would hardly notice the injury that others sometimes bestow onto me had it not been for the very few that do understand. For those that when the hear the story take a moment to pause in compassion for the experience and the experiencer. I do have some of those human gems in my life, and they are my anchors to goodness, love and generosity.
The unspeakable amount of faith required for a caterpillar to hide away under a leaf, create it’s own universe in which it completely dies. Full disintegration. Liquid. Soup. Do caterpillars feel pain? Do they hesitate? Is there any awareness as to what comes next or is it a level of surrender that is indescribable?
Never more than now do I feel like soup. My friends and health care team, the chrysalis. Soon more molecules will convert from liquid into matter. Not long now and there will be air fluttering under my wings.
I wonder what color my wings will be. I just hope they don’t have any holes in them.