Saturday, January 21, 2017
Women's March in St. Paul
This is not usually a phrase that leads to me crying.
Today is a different kind of day.
Today, I joined 1000's of other people to send a message to our world and to ourselves, that love is more powerful than fear. But today I also thought, "Not all the time, sometimes wounds are bigger."
Which explains why a certain man is in office
and another man is not in my life.
Today an argument waged in my brain. The grieving process, which may or not be sequential, goes - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression then Acceptance. So maybe this argument in my brain was the bargaining, the wrestling, the fighting it out, "But love is stronger!"
"But it clearly isn't."
"But love is stronger."
"Only if you let it through."
I'm reminded of a story about the sun and how the sun is more powerful than darkness. However, you can close the blinds and keep it out. It doesn't mean the blinds are more powerful than the sun, but they can get in the way.
We can get in the way.
Wounds get in the way.
Today I was angry at the bargaining in my brain. "It has been decided. Just let go!"
"But, BUT, BUT!"
I was angry at myself for this bargaining. "Why can't you just accept what has been decided? Why can't you see what is so clear? Why can't you see that the fact that you don't understand,
simply doesn't matter
or to our world."
It was tiresome and weighty and painful and then I remembered, after a long while, some advice I gave just yesterday. "When those battles are raging in your brain, let some light in, let some playfullness in." God yes. I need that too, I need to let something else in!
For me that was, and is, just an allowance for this bargaining to happen. "Tammy, you don't have to be further along in this process. You don't have to force yourself or push yourself or hurry yourself. I know you don't want to care. I know you just want to let go and move on. It's ok.
It's ok to cling. It's ok to grasp. It's ok to not want to let go." Just typing those words I can feel myself, feel myself begin to breathe.
"It's ok to not want to let yourself, let go."
I can feel myself begin.
I just finished a journal last night. On the first page I was reading Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton, on the last page I reflected on Intimacy "INTO ME SEE." That to have intimacy with another person we have to let them in to see. That's the only way. That's all there is.
Today I thought of moments when I failed to do this. Moments when pain came up and I could have leaned in and said, "Tell me more about that, I want to understand." Moments when I failed.
Failed to be intimate.
This rally was a response to a government of fear, a proclamation that love is still here,
and it was encouraging and strong and powerful and
I felt disconnected from that love.
I wanted to be the woman who recently began compiling things she enjoyed about being single, I hadn't written them down yet, but I just had them, the other day.
Now they are scattered like scraps in the wind. All I could find was alone, disconnected, sad and quiet.
A bit of connection finally emerged when, after departing the bus and heading back to the car, my friend hooked her arm into mine. I started to cry. "Thank you," I said, "I needed that." She thanked me for figuring out the bus and the directions.
Simple touch can be so reassuring. I've enjoyed so much of that the past couple years.
It's gone now.
I know I've learned so much these past weeks, but I wouldn't trade that learning in for the touch. "Why should I have to trade?" the bargaining begins again, "Why can't I have both?"
If I crawl into a cocoon for a while will I emerge as a butterfly?
Will I emerge at all?