Anniversary

This morning, last year, I woke up empty and bleeding.  Then, because this is the depth of my crazy, I went to work and didn't tell anyone what had happened.  Then, because I am loved, people came and took good care of me, until I developed an infection and ended up in the hospital for 2 days. Then, after all the excitement, I was still empty.

Today was a nice day. We were all together, and I got to nap, and swim in Walden Pond, and eat food prepared for me with love. I couldn't quite figure out why I had such a bad headache, why I was so out of it, why I was having trouble connecting with Lil, for much longer than I would have expected.

But I think that is the way avoidance works, right? 

It is such an unpleasant mechanism, not being present, and being present is such hugely amazing medicine, it is no contest which I prefer. And yet, and yet, and yet. Avoidance is also such a gift, because it is such an excellent shock absorber, which prevents us going totally off the deep end when faced with the hardships of life.

When I realized what day it actually was, and how my physical body was manifesting that, I decided to sit down and very gently pry my metaphysical hands away from my metaphysical eyes and invite the knowledge in. I kept saying, practice this. Practice this. Because in fact, dear one, this is a very small loss. This is a loss of someone you were just beginning to know, who had not yet taken his first breath, who had not come into the world. Big losses, big  big losses, are always around, and the only real way to prepare is to sit in the discomfort and recognize that it will not destroy you, that in fact it is entirely impersonal. Isn't that interesting? How the love is highly personal but the pain has nothing really to do with you?

I am working on absorbing that. And letting go of old patterns, and old expectations, and the "right" way. But also I am full of sadness and disappointment. I am.  And cliche as it may sound, that's ok. I give myself permission for that.   And I am very glad this day will end, and as L.M. Montgomery once wrote, tomorrow will be fresh, and another chance.