Can I be healthy, yet?
Not sure what set it off, but today is hard. Physically I'm fine. I've recovered from 7 punctures in 5 days, thanks to last week and a couple of unplanned tests on top of scheduled ones. I moved the lumbar myself, so I could pretend none of this was happening this week and just enjoy graduation celebrations for our son. My psyche had other ideas. Maybe it's just the medical stress from last week relaxing and the mental junk hitting. Either way, I'm exhausted from crying so much.
These were not pretty tears, but I'm not sorry. Sometimes, we just have to let they ugly, scary, and devastating be expressed, so we can find joy on the other side. And I do get to feel a lot of joy. Just not right this second.
I want to talk about "those" tears, "those" sobs, "those" dry heaves. Anyone else get them? You know the ones. They make everything in you scream and turn to intensity. These are messy tears, full of pain, remorse, regret, loss, trauma, fear, anger, so many things. I hate them, and I am so grateful for them.
I hate the two days of headaches afterwards, and barely being able to stand for a few minutes once the heaving stops. At least I don't pass out now like I did when I was little. I've learned to stop and calm down enough to maintain myself, even slogging to the kitchen for water, then back for another round of healing. That's why I love these tears. I hate the pain, the muscle cramps and spasms from the sheer intensity of it all. I hate the depth, but I love the healing that comes after cleaning out one of these wounds.
The healing is so very real. It is such a relief afterwards, like the echo-less sobs and throat burning dry heaves were actually banishing some firey hell-hound, long cloaked in self-destructive patterns. Then, as if it never existed, the pain ebbs, leaving me exhausted and glassed over until my oxygen levels re-stabilize. Then comes the clarity. Wow, the clarity.
At the end of these episodes my bio-mom used to call fits, I find myself. This Me is taller, braver, smarter, stronger, and more real. I can see Her armor, forged to brilliant golden-white through trial and suffering, pain and refining. It is blinding, but I cannot take my eyes off Her. She is beautiful in every sense of the word. This beauty is born of compassion, courage, and hope. The radiance is a deep, passionate love for every being who has ever lived, and a forgiveness for heinous crimes that are not Ours to judge. I step into Her, and feel God wrap Me in warmth, comfort, serenity and wisdom. His Wisdom. And I know this is all for a reason, much bigger than me. I don't understand, yet know beyond my own reality that it is the Truth.
My strength returns, and I pick up the brilliant sword, shield, and light that was always there. Then I move into whatever comes next.
Lace
