Letting Go

My body is still in a great amount of discomfort, with occasional delightful exceptions.  I’m dealing with a suuuuper heavy aching feeling that crushes my bones and flesh, back-breaking pain, dizziness, headaches, and extreme tenderness, weakness, and fatigue most days.  However, the electric pain, the stabbing pain, the shooting pain – GONE!  As are the brain fog, abdominal cramps, and horrible face-slicing headaches.  I’m definitely getting better (and many symptoms are probably temporary side effects from treatments!) but still waiting for some items to bugger on off.

Anyways, the pain wakes me up throughout the night, and it often takes a couple hours to fall back to sleep.  It takes around 13 hours to get in 8 hours of sleep.  While I’m just lying there for 5ish hours, waiting, trying not to be uncomfortable, my mind does its thing.

It does what minds do; it figures out stuff, it thinks up wonderings, it articulates desires – and it loves to talk story.  I watch as it bring the stories up, various memories, which reminds itself of others, tells those ones, and on and on.  I’ve been bedridden for four friggin’ months now, and was sleep challenged for at least six months prior – this routine is old news.  I know my mind well.

Lately I’ve noticed that the stories don’t have an emotional charge anymore.  Before my mind would bring up a story and I’d kinda relive it, remembering what happened.  I’d feel like I did in the moment, and I’d feel the emotions I’d built around the memory since then.  (Especially unpleasant memories!)  But now they don’t feel so attached to me.  They don’t feel like part of me in a self-identifying way anymore, like they aren’t who I am, you know?

This whole self-centering thing that I’ve been focused on has changed my self-perception from being a totality of memories (and how I feel about them), to just…NOW.  I have all of those experiences as extremely valuable learning tools, but I no longer feel defined by my past.  I feel like a badass for getting through it, but it feels closed.  Like it can’t get me anymore.  Like the future could really, actually, be different for me.  Not like a Pollyanna-esque pipe dream, as it has felt before, but like it’s probable.

Feels darn good.

 

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