Last night I went to bed with the flu, and woke up with it…because that’s how flu works, apparently. (Motherfucker.) I can’t quite believe how it’s one thing after another, physically….like, really can’t. I flip into thinking that I must have done something wrong, there must be something I’m doing wrong for my body to be so unhappy. But then I also wonder whether it’s the opposite – my body is finally collapsing, and has been for the last five years. My body is in a time of rest and healing, because it finally can…but FUCK, gimme a break.
It’s in these moments I feel like I swing between the old and the new. My mind checks into the Overdrive Lounge and my body checks into Adrenaline Central…I lie there suddenly thinking of ALL the things I want to do with my life, with my day, with my SELF, and so therefore, all the things I ‘cannot’ or ‘won’t ever be able to do…blah blah blah blah.’ I worry about money and how I’m going to support myself. I worry that I’m not going to be okay because I don’t have anyone to support me… I lie there and can’t connect with my body because it feels too awful. My heart feels like it’s breaking, to be ill AGAIN. I can feel it breaking, but I can also feel it pounding with adrenaline to keep my body and mind moving – even if just a little bit in bed. I then lie back and realise this isn’t old news…why I am so surprised and as though this is new? This is normal…this struggle with feeling ill.
This is Old Territory.
New territory is something very different. Something quite beautiful and profound. And something very new. Still as heartbreaking, just in a different way. Kinda heartbreaking with a healing twist. A twist of grief. All the tears and all the pain I feel in these new moments, is grief and sorrow and a feeling of loss and injustice – all feelings I am totally legit to feel. And by feeling so – really feeling – it heals. Old territory, feelings festered. New, they release. New there’s a gentleness, a fragility that is welcomed…a compassion and warmth towards myself. There’s an ability to sit right here in the moment and give myself what I need, and NOT be tortured with future tripping. With stories of how it’s all going to be shit forever, or looking back on the past and realising just how awful this road of health has been. Instead I am able to sit with myself, with the young and wounded parts of myself and really parent them. Nurture them. My therapist used the term ‘my Inner Healer’ and I love it. In this new territory, it is like she is there with me. Sometimes it feels like she takes a fag break or a mini vacation, but the majority of the time at the moment, she is there nestled in my heart, offering warmth and compassion.
It doesn’t stop it FUCKING SUCKING though. It just makes it a little less festery…less heartbreakingly isolating, because rather than needing someone here with me to understand what’s happening and have compassion for me, I can sit there with myself. I can give the compassion I’m needing, to myself. It strangely makes this all more painful, but rather than tortured isolating pain, it is a healthy, healing and allowing-for, pain. It makes for the moments to be more beautiful and more gentle.
That’s all pretty beautiful.