PonderEthereal

After all of the anger and hostility from the ‘other side’ of the high school drama, today, someone emailed to say she understood and apologized. She emailed everyone in the class to say that someone had explained to her what they had been through in high school and that she understood - so much so that it almost made her cry because it was just so heartbreaking to see it. I cried when I read her email. Not just a tear or two. I cried from deep down inside from a place that was so relieved to see the light of day. I wandered into my altar space and fell down in front of Spirit and sobbed until I couldn’t anymore. And then I Willed as much blessing and healing upon that woman as she could stand in one day. Heal her for having lived through the experience of knowing the tiny portion that she knows. Bless her for having the courage to say it all out loud.

I sorted some photos out yesterday and this morning. I am so glad that I have as many photos as I have of certain periods of my life. ‘Cherish’ is an emotional attachment that I’m still learning - but I cherish those photos. I flipped through photos of friends and family and of periods of my life that I barely remember - or only just recently have begun to remember again. I picked a few and scanned them and added some photos to my family album that were hanging out in the box. And then I sat back and realized that I get it now. I get all of it. It’s all a part of me. I didn’t go flipping through the albums scrambling desperately to retrieve these pieces of me that I didn’t feel I understood like I have for so many years on end. I just flipped through to enjoy the memories. And when I put them away, I felt very complete. I felt ok putting them away. I wasn’t putting away the only piece of those parts of me that I retained. I was just putting away snapshots of things from my life. My whole life.

One of those photos was of Ryan. It’s a snapshot out of a group of pictures that he sent me when he was stationed in Cali and I was still in Memphis. He sent them just before we broke up for the last time before the 3 year break that we didn’t speak - er… almost 8 years ago now, I guess. One of them is him standing in the sun with a hat on, looking directly at the camera. In that picture, is everything I love about him. I had it framed for a while when we were together and after we broke up, I would look at it every now and then and it never failed to bring him rushing back to me. His smell, his voice, his laugh, his attitude. I packed it away while I was married the first time so that I would not have to see it… him. But I kept it. And when I pulled these albums out yesterday, it was there. And for a moment, it took my breath away. There is the man I love. I love this man more than I could possibly explain in words - in parts of me that I barely understand myself. I’ve loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him and despite things in life that changed and grew and moved around and between us or how impossible it might have seemed in some moments or how much I might have doubted sometimes, I have never once not known that this is the man I want to be with.

He’s been out of town for a few days. I talked to him on his layover a little while ago and before he hung up, he said he would see me when he got home. Those words are so simple and so mundane - but they made me feel like the luckiest girl on the planet. He is coming home… and his home is my home. How lucky am I? To be honored to have such an amazing creature call my home his home? To have such a wonderful human to want to come home to me out of all the girls in the world? To have a man that I love as deeply as I do who loves me back with as much abandon? That is damned lucky. How damned wonderful this marriage thing is when you get right down to it. I mean… to live with someone you love as deeply as I love him… forever. That… is amazing stuff.

And as if all of this were not enough for one day - because… you know… I don’t need down time or anything, as I was shaving my legs, I noticed that I had a scratch and a bruise on my calf. At first, it almost shocked me. And then it struck me WHY it shocked me. I rarely, if ever, injure myself from activity anymore because I am simply not active. And that I have this bruised scratch on my leg means that I got active enough to allow something to touch me roughly. I’ve been in this shell of protection of my own devise for 7 years or so now. This shell that keeps me from doing anything that could in any way remotely cause me stress. I’ve been aware of this shell for a few years now. I don’t travel, I don’t do outdoorsy stuff, I strive for perfection in everything, I wear long pants and long sleeves all the time, I’m OCRyan about some things… all in an effort to keep myself undamaged because for so long, I just could not handle it. And tonight, I realized that I’m finally moving outside of this shell. I’m finally ready to. Maybe slowly, maybe tentatively… but I’m ready to. I wore skirts to work the last couple of weeks. I’m making plans to travel. I even bruised and scratched myself doing one of many projects that are blooming under my hand.

I shaved delicately around it and rubbed it for luck.