RIPPLES

…things are actually starting to get better. looks like it is still a long road to go, but i’m learning to accept the pace of “healing” — and to keep what gifts of hope the ones i love offer. i wish i could write that i take comfort, but this doesn’t come easily for me. i’m used to being the one who gives, tho i hope i’ve never stopped giving all that i can.

we put in an application and deposit for a lovely apartment in san francisco. i think we will get it and we should be moving back to the city within the next two to three weeks. moving back to the city and away from the trains and general horrors we have witnessed here. however, this move presents a new sort of struggle for me.

…and, i don’t mean the struggle of having to scale down on possessions to move from 1800 square feet to 600. that is no big deal to me. the things i really value are often quite small in size but unmeasurable in worth. we can fit in 600 square feet without worry. but, the thought of actually trying to pack and move is scary. sometimes just trying to fall asleep is more challenging than swimming across an ocean. just getting from ‘point a’ to ‘point b’ is not always something i can do right now.
but, one takes in a deep bowl of air and simply tries the best one can. and, that is enough. …to just keep trying and pushing forward.

it is almost 2am.

b and bagel are fast asleep. i sit alone trying to sort through my scramble mess of thought and calm down enough to face the bed. i suddenly realize that my ‘gut’ has gotten smaller and that the ‘man tits’ are turning back to ‘man chest’ again.

i feel a great sigh of relief to notice that my body is returning to form. …a way to go, but it is coming back.

i sip my tea and a sigh of fear tries to envelop me.

as the layer of fat starts to finally evaporate i realize i am more exposed.

how odd that the feeling of healing in itself can illicit fear.

vulnerable and almost naked — i push forward back to life.
m