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Drums, Pa, United States
My heart is on my sleeve and my soul is on paper. Please be kind to those around you, we are all glass.

The richness of sybolism

The richness of sybolism
Telling my story with no words

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Little Scuttlebutts

My sister in law stayed with Chris and I for a few days seemingly to care for him after knee surgery so I could go back to work. As it turned out she took care of me in a way I had no idea I needed.
Kimberly being at the house has allowed me to exhale, let go, checkout. I'm being mothered and finding how healing it is to let someone take care of me, to tuck me in with a kiss, to make meals for me and say it is ok to cry and lay in bed at 4pm. How surprisingly easy it is and how much I needed it, wow did I need it.

There is a situation in my life that's akin to being a rock climber who fell a great distance and got wedged in a small tight crack. At first being stuck suddenly is startling, then scary, then hurts like hell. Your struggle to get out only results in settling further into the crack. Unable to move either way the weight around you starts to feel secure and safe. You find comfort and solace in this close position that takes all the responsibility from you.
You know staying there will result in death but the contact, the tactile stimulation of the great surface area of nerves is reassuring and impossible not to want.
Without notice, when you are no longer fighting, almost learning to love the captivity, you feel the pain of being taken out by a force not your own. Now, the ache of what broke while you were stuck starts to produce agony once your free from it. How bittersweet.

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