Grief

I have chronic Asthma and bronchitis.  Have since I was 4 or 5. Every time I get sick, and there is any mucus involved, at all- Bam. Lung infection. I've come to just know the signs and resign myself to getting antibiotics. Or, try to tough it out without antibiotics and suffer with shortness of breath and a wicked cough, for months on end until I finally lose it and give in and go get antibiotics. It really depends on how much self punishment I am doling out at the moment. I also get sick every year, the week or two before school starts, with terrible asthma and bronchitis, my chest feels like it's on fire, and I am completely operating out of shadow, cranky, irritable, intolerant, angry, snappish. It's like clockwork, I don't even have to check the calendar, I get this horrendous bout of debilitating wheezing and chest gunk, coughing, and cannot.catch.my.breath. And I know, school's right around the corner.

So, being that, I have spent my life, long periods of it, actually, deprived of oxygen, and that in many healing modalities the lungs are retained grief, I suppose I have reached that place in my life where I have to look at that. Both the huge, nameless grief that has taken up residence in my lungs, and the habitual ways in which I punish myself, every day.

I can see it in the pictures Mari took of me with Nimue the other day. I had already taken a prednisone, and countless hits of the inhaler, and nothing was helping. I could see in the flare of my nostrils, the way my mouth and chin were stretched, could see the grief etched in my lips, the struggle to breathe. 

So what is this about, this deep, nameless grief? 

Belonging. Deserving. Love. Worthiness. Loneliness. Safety. Lack. Self Punishment. Being "Broken" Not Enough. Or Too Much. Oh, and this long held belief that One has to Work Hard to make money, a living? If that isn't the biggest load of Hurdy Gurdy our society has handed to us, I don't know what is. Absolute bollocks. I'm sure there's more to the list, these just flutter to the top. 

My childhood was less than idyllic, and while there are many things I learned, and became, and transmuted because of the particular fire I was forged in, a sense of belonging was not one. I didn't feel a sense of belonging in my family of origin, unconditional love, safety, and certainly not a sense of worthiness or deserving, that shit was completely conditional, yo.  Nor indeed, within human society as I have experienced it to date, if anything, society instills a distinct lack in all of these arenas.

There have been glimpses, fleeting moments, more, since I have been on this particular wild woman path, spaces where I could breathe, and felt held, felt safe. But more often than not, I feel the weight of my other ness. The burden of my strength and fierce independence. The lack of safety net in being an outspoken wild woman. The very real Danger, from those who would like to muzzle, chain, stuff, quiet, tame, and otherwise diminish the flame of a wild woman. 

Most of the time these days I operate with a heaping dose of "and she wore whatever she wanted, had as much sex as she wanted, and not one fuck was given"  But some days, the reality is that I feel like I tread a narrow crumbling path between a sheer cliff looking up, and a drop into vast space with sharp jagged points far below. And I am so goddamn brittle, that the first good gust of wind, and I will just sail.... blasted into a million pieces. I am Still. All of these years later, Hyper Vigilant. And my Adrenals are giving out on me. I am exhausted. Completely and utterly, there is not enough sleep in the world, and literally, I don't even know what true joy looks like any more, fucking worn out, exhausted. I can't even bring myself to feed myself or care for myself properly half the time, though I make damn sure the child and animals and everyone else is fed. I looked at myself in a full length mirror under florescent lights today. I am watching myself continue to vanish before my own eyes. Wasting away into skeleton woman. I am stumbling through with the aid of crutches and patches and pretending. 

I don't know how to care for myself the way i want to be cared for. I feel like I was never taught that particular piece. Or maybe I just lost that bit with the rest of my memories of the past. What I do know is that there is a better way than this. This stumbling around in the dark with no fucking flashlight because I ran out of batteries and just keep bumping into shit. I am tired. Spending five days blue in the lips struggling for breath, struggling for sleep, struggling for life, leaves me just completely spent. And then, of course I started my moon flow today, just for added emotional depth.

And if I'm completely honest? I don't *want* to have to take care of myself. I want someone to do that for me. While I take care of all the other people and animals. But it doesn't happen like that, does it. heh. Or better yet, hold me while I break down and am completely soft, open, vulnerable, hold space for me to be fragile, so I can then pull it together and be strong again.

What all of this means is that I'm about to start walking away from shit if it's not serving. 

But here's the rub. There's all of that bullshit, right? And then there's the Divine, loving me up, and cheering me on, and sending me love notes and serendipity, and synchronicities, and all of these things that *mean something* to me. And I feel it, on a core level, and I believe it, and I own it, want it. So how do I release all of these shit blockages? How do I retrieve that little girl, love her, keep her safe, and help her belong. I'm fucking ready, yo. Because this old shit is OLD. And I am tired of being tired. I am ready to be healed, and whole, and happy, and vibrant, full of energy and vitality, joy, and love, I am ready to get down with my path and my purpose and get to fucking work, and most of all, I am ready to breathe freely, unimpeded by grief taking up all the space in my lungs. So. In the way that I do, transmuting the darkness into light, by bringing the shadow into the light, giving it voice, place, love, and acceptance, I am offering this up to the universe now. I am ready for healing. Thank you. I love you.