Day 29: In time.
How on earth has it been nearly a month since going outside was a normal thing?
Since I didn’t have to remind myself not to hold my breath when i’m around strangers?
With just a few minutes left in my session today, I told my therapist that I believed I wasn’t feeling through all my feelings. That I feel anxiety and stress and a spectrum of rage, but that there’s this ocean of sadness and fear underneath it all that I can’t access. That I want to be able to access.
She was glad I’d brought it up. In time, she said.
I’m even trying to control when I feel my feelings. But I’m so wound up and anxious that…I’m not giving myself any room to be grounded or create the space required to go to those vulnerable places.
So in time.
I’ll do that work, and stop wishing I could cry — quit berating myself for not reacting to the world the way I think I should be — and in time, the tears will come, the fear will manifest, the rage will find its breaking point, breach my walls, spill over and out.
My yoga pants are smeared with paint. Every bare inch of my skin is covered in flecks of the stuff. My cheeks are just pink with a dinner-hour sunburn that will fade by tomorrow night, and my belly is churning, full of ice cream I shouldn’t have eaten but wouldn’t have dared resist. On a…Read More
I can just see the shimmer of pirate fireworks going off across Western Avenue through my office window; there are explosions in the distance from every direction. Our festivities are long over for the day: We gathered to eat, drink, and sweat through our clothes with family — responsibly distanced and all, of course. I…Read More
It’s not yet 7 a.m., and the world is waking up beyond the sanctuary of my back deck. Birds start their morning chirping hellos at one another, cloistered and invisible among the leaves. Western Avenue hums. In spite of the drama during last week’s farmers market, I came home with an armload of tiny herbs…Read More