Posts Tagged ‘fight or flight’

Open Heart

January 28, 2018

I have felt pretty fucking raw this past week.

I have gone through a lot and I have not walked it alone.

Today.

Ah.

Today.

I finally had a day without crying.

I got emotional, I had moments where I thought I would.

I had some strong longings, really fucking strong, to reach out and engage, but I remember that I don’t do this alone and that I have been given a lot of suggestions about how to navigate through my experience.

It doesn’t make it easier, in fact, it seems to make it harder.

But.

I suspect that the pain will be worth it.

That I will be left with something magic and special and worth it.

As I was told today, “the only way through is through.”

I am definitely going the fuck through it.

And.

Yes.

I did go and get myself some tattoos.

And yes.

They did ameliorate the pain a little bit, focused it in one location, shut my fucking brain off for a little while.

I got lost in the pain, floated around in it, distracted by the sound of the needle and the threading pain on my breast bone.

But it helped too.

And I love my new tattoos.

I got my lucky thirteen star.

For my thirteen years of sobriety.

I have a star for each year I have been sober.

fullsizeoutput_109c

I had my artist, Danny Boy Smith, at Let it Bleed Tattoo on Polk Street, make the placement.

I had thought of doing it a little lower, but when he put it underneath my ear I was quite taken with it.

Of course.

Holy shit.

That was distracting.

Having the needle so close to my ear, very distracting, it seemed to intensify the pain, the noise did, and I was very grateful that it wasn’t that big of a tattoo, he handled it pretty quick.

I had already gotten my other tattoo and was pretty pumped up on adrenaline by that, so the star didn’t hurt that much, it was just the sound of the needle and the vibration in my ear that was a little more intense than I had expected.

My first tattoo.

Well.

Fuck.

It hurt.

Yes.

It did.

I love when people ask if getting a tattoo hurt.

Duh, motherfucker.

Of course it hurts, come on.

Needles being driven into your skin, no really, it’s like getting a warm massage.

However.

I will say, my adrenalin kicked in super fast.

In fact.

I noticed it before I was in the chair, I was getting nervous and my body temperature went up, my fingers got cold and I got a little sweaty upper lip.

Fight or flight response.

Jittery stomach.

Despite making sure that I had a good lunch and I had it later in the day so that my stomach would be full while I got tattooed.

I can’t imagine anything worse than being hungry while being tattooed.

No thank you.

Anyway.

Yeah.

The adrenalin got up there right away.

The placement was on my breast-plate.

It’s beautiful.

I love the piece.

fullsizeoutput_108d

I feel like it really tied all the pieces together and it just feels like I got the right placement and I really love the design.

It was based on a very special Tiffany pendant I was gifted.

One of my favorite things that I have been given this past year.

God.

When I think of the gifts I have been given.

I am amazed.

Even this pain that I have been walking through.

It’s a gift.

I get to feel it.

I get to feel the depth and breadth of my feeling.

I got to see how much I love.

I love a lot.

I love hard.

I love with reckless abandon and passion.

And.

Well, fuck, that makes me proud.

I’m alive and I wasn’t afraid to be sorry, I don’t have regrets.

Not a fucking one.

Rather.

I am grateful for all these experiences.

I have been given so much love.

The fact that I was hit so very hard with my circumstances shows to me the amount of love I have.

It is enormous.

It boggles my mind.

I used to pine for a love like this and then I got it.

And I was amazed.

I am amazed, at what I have gotten to experience.

And though I don’t believe that I am done grieving yet, I don’t feel like it’s a loss any longer.

Ok, that’s not true, it does still feel like a loss, but I know that it’s becoming more than that.

It is an opportunity to love more, to allow myself to step out into the light and shine forward and be strong and generous and kind and compassionate.

With myself.

With others.

I don’t know what my love path looks like, but I do not have any doubt that I won’t get to travel further along it.

Darling, reach out, and take my hand.

I will walk this path with my hand open, waiting for you to take it into yours.

I have faith.

Love.

I have so much faith.

And I know how strong I am.

For having walked as far as I have already.

I will be able to do this.

Grateful and alight for the experience of love that I have gotten.

In complete faith, utter and complete faith, that this love is not done.

It is infinite.

It is grand.

It is eternal.

All encompassing.

A shining beacon.

A brightly lit heart.

Just like the inspiration for my new tattoo.

fullsizeoutput_1099

 

 

Advertisements

What The Fuck Was That?

February 12, 2015

I just had the most intense flight or fight response I have had in quite sometime.

I got a lot of news about some people I care for in short period of time.

Including a friend who has been trying to use like a gentleman and not having a good go of it, someone I love and care about and had to tell, hey, I love you, but I can’t talk to you when your intoxicated.

Then not being able to get a hold of someone who I was worried about and had a brief monstrous flash of what could be wrong.

Fortunately I was incorrect, but it was an intense moment, standing in the door way of my studio pacing back and forth trying to get a hold of someone on the phone while receiving texts about my friend using drugs at the same time.

Ack.

Then, well, I go where I need to go and on Wednesdays that’s changed since the break up with my ex.

I used to see him on Wednesdays on the regular before we were dating at this one spot in the Inner Sunset.

Then my job changed and I stopped going there, and when we broke up, it was completely off the table to show up there.

We agreed to the 90 days no contact and I have honored that.

So.

You know, surprised, might be an understatement, to see him walk into the Beach Burrito not ten feet away from where I am standing at 8:25 p.m. this evening.

Fuck me.

I went tharn.

That would be, like a rabbit caught in the headlights as it’s about to be mowed down by a car, made up word stolen from one of my favorite works of fiction.

Watership Down, Richard Adams.

I was knocked over by the feeling.

Ow.

My heart.

Really?

Right then.

Relapsing friend.

Another friend missing in action.

Catching my breath, trying to breathe, then my ex walks into the fucking burrito shop ten feet away from me.

He waved.

I don’t know that I did, I don’t think I waved, that is.

I don’t know what I did.

I did of course.

Tear up.

Wallop!

Smash!

Run!

My heart beat, my eyes watered, I was shell-shocked.

It shouldn’t hurt like that.

Like what?

I mean, I don’t know.

I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a while.

Despite it being short, it was sober and real and intense and lots of emotions were stirred up and it was a deep learning experience.

I feel things.

I am a sensitive bunny.

That’s why I like the jackalope, it’s got some horns.  One doesn’t fuck with a jackalope, one might get pronged.

Ah.

My heart on a pair of horns.

But my God has me, takes care of me, makes sure that I can handle exactly everything that I have been handed.

My best friend calls thirty seconds after I see the ex go into the burrito joint with another woman.

I am standing looking into a room while I am on the phone with her, the room, full of smiling faces, warmth, laughter, friends, all I have to do is take a breath, pray, and walk over that threshold.

Sit down and be enveloped in my fellowship.

Thank you God for this experience.

I have not been painted into a corner, I was just made vulnerable, soft, washed out with salt and tears and hollowed out to hold the light that was there, Christmas lights, white on the floor, glowing in the dark, softly blurred from the tears running down my face.

I am grateful for this.

I am grateful for these feelings.

It means I am alive.

And I can hold more than one emotion at a time.

There’s room for them all.

Even for humor.

I mean, it’s funny, the details are more convoluted and ridiculous the more that I looked at them, how human, how connected the people in my life are and how the picture continues to change and grow.

“Look at all your hair,” he, a friend I was surprised to see in my neck of the woods, said to me afterward, when the lights came up, the candlelight done for the week, to return next Wednesday, same time, same channel, hopefully less an  ex boyfriend eating Mexican next door.

I hugged him.

God he felt good.

“What are you doing over here, didn’t you move to Berkeley?”  I asked.

“Ayup, class today,” he said and sparkled at me.

Damn.

You look good.

But you’re not on the list.

I asked you out once before.

You said no, let’s be friends.

And friends we are, but you know.

When you bury your face in my neck and smell me, I wonder, you know.

We caught up.

I told him about what had happened, in a bit more detail than here.

There are things I can write about are through my own lens and there are things that I can’t.  I don’t want to write about people I know and love except in the vaguest way–anything that is unkind or breaking a confidence, I just cannot put here.

Other people and their lives are not my business to write about, how I feel, what I do, how I live my life, my experiences, those are the things I can write about.

I’m tiptoeing a fine line is what I’m saying, but I could tell my friend that I saw tonight in a bit more detail, namely because he didn’t know any of the people I was talking about.

Then we talked about money.

Student loans specifically.

“I figure I just take the next action and if I get in, God will put the money there, it will happen,” I said.  “I mean, it’s only $50,000 a year, for three years.”  I think I may have blanched saying that, but since my friend’s in nursing school he knows, his tuition at a private university is about the same.

Just a little thing called faith.

“Hey let’s bounce,” my friend’s ride came over.

He hugged me again, I mean hugged me.

It was snuggly.

Boy howdy I needed that.

Then it slipped out, “are you sure we shouldn’t get together and snuggle,” I whispered in his ear.

“I mean, I know you don’t want to date me, we’ve already covered that ground before,” I teased him.

“Well, I think, maybe, I should rethink that, we should go out and have dinner,” he said.

“Yes we should.”  I said and hugged him back.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I don’t know that it could have happened at a better time.

And though he wasn’t on the list, since, I had asked him out over a year ago, he would have been on the top of it at a certain point in our acquaintanceship.

Everything works out.

I don’t have to know the how and the why of it.

I just need to know that it will.

Fall into place.

 

Everything falls into place.

It falls right into place.

Because you’ve got a big heart, baby.

Oh, you’ve got a big heart, it’s true.


%d bloggers like this: