shes a messy bitch ..
i’ve realised every time someone has said, be in the moment , it makes me feel angry. And then, sad.
My moments have been for 32 plus years, have been something to brace myself for, they’ve been combatant, been a thing done to me that I haven’t been able to control. To be in the moment is to realise and embrace anger, sadness, being subjecated, controlled, it has involved deep loss .. to be in that moment in all that it actually is , would have meant absolute madness .. to be in a moment has always been about holding on ..
So I missed it.
Missed large portions of supposed happiness? What? What did I miss? Perception, someone else’s perception?
It is cruel to ask someone to be in a moment that they could not bare themselves.
It is judgemental and belittling of their pain. It is dismissive of their survival.
This decade has been about rest. Space. Realisation.
So i can be in a moment without having to bare it, but to enjoy every little intricacy in it.
At the same time I feel like I am mourning .. grieving.
Nearly ready for more.
reassessing what a decade ‘did’ .. thinking that it was a waste or a rest .. actually it was ..
figuring out what happened.
what i suffered.
trying to find good pieces to go along side those stories.
reassembling the stories.
remembering what i wanted.
dropping what i wanted.
trying something else.
dropping something else.
the body changes.
the hormones. learning about them. and touch sensations .
figuring out what i dont like.
what i dont mind.
what i like.
what is necessary.
someone once had a dream about me & a broken hand .. the interpretation was that was me, that i needed re breaking to reset the bones to heal properly.
i had a dream recently, that the femoral artery in my leg had been ‘knicked’, & it was bleeding out with my pulse.
i found the bleed, not the site of the wound. i stopped the bleeding. .. by wiping it clean and keeping still.
theres practically no-one saying that i cant do something anymore. there are the odd criticisms but its not a literal, ‘no you cant go here, say that, do that, voice that, parent like that’ etc etc .. theres no-one. so why do i continue to hear it? do it?
so i should, Stop .. telling myself I should be doing more!
Berating myself for resting.
Beating myself up for supposedly not knowing better.
I am allowed to rest. I done did 32 years of being beat down, and yet I still survived. I done 32 years of torment and abuse. I suffered. And I still survived.
I survived 32 years of being groped, raped, suffocated, belittled, not believed, changing tactics, self healing, moving, managing, changing, learning and being degraded and still survived.
I did all that and still managed to achieve shit.
My kids are my greatest achievement.
And then I did more.
I am allowed to rest! Recoup. Heal.
Recalibrate, ponder, soul search, get angry and heal some more.
I am allowed.
I am allowed to manage illness in my own way, finding solutions, getting what I need.
And I’m still allowed to rest.
“Cut yourself some motherfucking slack girl!
Geezus!” is what i keep telling myself.
Watch the sunsets.
Gaze out the window.
by 11, smoking was my way of silencing my pain and anger and giving the finger to anything that said I couldn’t. It was harm done at my choosing.
And now I’m trying to let it go like an old toxic friend and I can feel its roots pulling out from the base of my spine, my puku.
Like im not in control, but I am. That this is my choice.
Never to be forced again to do what I don’t want to. To bow for the greater good. To listen for the greater good.
But I feel like screaming, crying, smashing and sleeping, all at the same time.
its some deep rooted fuckery. but better out than in, right ..