My mind lately is awash in the warm fuzzies of new relationships. Feeling really fortunate for how things are working out. Also, reflecting on how the years have changed me. deaconobvious saw me at the very beginning of my first year at IMSA, and thus saw me while I was still really shy and uncertain... many of my other friends/partners only met me later, after I'd gained confidence. I always felt like that quieter/shy part of me got left behind because no one else who knows me now, knew me that way years ago. So it was an interesting discovery that he remembered bits of that. I was so very quiet back then. I had no idea how much possibility and strength was locked up inside me, waiting for the right conditions to grow.
I've spent a lot of time in ritual work trying to reconnect with and reclaim bits of who I used to be; not the powerlessness and fear, but the simple innocence and emotionality. For years I wanted to see myself reflected in another's eyes. Known for who I was behind the fears. I have a large part of that, now, and more coming as I set up opportunities for it. Healing work runs deep back over the years.
Sometimes I wonder about writing the stories of my grade school days, the ways I remember them. All the pain, all the struggle, all the tiny buds of hope that poked through in spite of it. I couldn't do justice to the other characters in the stories, but maybe that doesn't matter. My writing would be for others to understand me; the rest is just circumstances. And then I wonder, would it really turn up anything my friends don't already know? I live so openly anymore. I don't know; maybe I will write, someday, and give that little girl more voice. Who knows what impact my stories might have. Meanwhile, loving relationships are bringing healing even without the stories; it's amazing what acceptance and trust can do.
Life has changed so much. Never as a child would I have dreamed I'd be doing this well in my career, surrounded by wonderful friends, deeply in love with multiple awesome people. The contrast is stunning between now and where I came from. For that reason alone I sometimes think about writing the past. Just to play with the contrast.
It's a gray wet November over here, the kind of day where reality pauses and time freezes, just for a day; no wind, no leaves stirring, no rain. Just soggy earth and stillness. Waiting.