ricochet and thoughts for the next one hundred and forty-four
-this- drifting in and out of the background, some days disappeared and some keeping me in bed... coughing and dragging around in fawn-colored pajamas on and off for what's getting to be weeks. i am not all that okay right now. and would rather eat glass than admit this to much of anyone. but think it's getting to a point that i need to, in order to ask for some space and understanding to stare things down and heal. it's not fun, not entirely physical, and i'll be fine. i'm not able to be all that present for much of anybody or anything at the moment. and if we're really close, you'll probably have found me knives-out in the last few weeks as much is shifting fast in ways i don't have words for. it's my monkey self-preservation impulse to fight it. i'm learning not to. i'm also remembering how to drop some things i think i should hold, and a few pre-conceived ideas, to look instead at what's in front of me and where i'm feeling pushed. i promised some time ago from a very quiet spot in my fairly loud world to stumble toward a certain light, without compromise or question. some of this has proven to be rough. a lot of it. i'm stubborn, which does me well when i channel it, but shoots me in the foot when i let it run ahead or confuse too much with my emotions. i am content somehow with an idea of buying a pickup truck, finding a place in the mountains, working reiki, and letting the woods suck me in once and for all. i've only ever wanted since i was very young to draw and play in the mud. i am also feeling oddly alone, orienting to a lot of disorientation, thisclose to chucking it all on whim, and have just signed onto a school program that is much like entering a convent.
things are unraveling, bleeding over, and lines get drawn, erased, and redrawn at a speed that's just past frustration and into understanding them for what they are. but there's no doubt that for difficulty or joy i'm right smack squarely where i'm to be. and that is what matters.