Weekly Share

SEA THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Will handed this to me.

Maine Sea glass.

He’d been to the beach + back already.

Shortly after, my parents began to stir in the room over.

The day was starting and its movement magnified my resistance to stay put.

On the floor.

In the constructive rest position I’ve been drawn to each morning for months.

Operating on adrenaline is no longer viable.

Neither is letting the space of others define mine.

So I lay until my within says ‘get up’.

Before arriving on this week-long family sojourn, I knew the floor was going to be extra challenging.

I also sensed it critical.

I was coming home so they could witness me, IN ME.

My invisibility had an impending expiration date.

Their presence necessary for the ending.

Taking the sea glass from Wills hand, tears lodged in my throat.

I wanted to share what was happening.

But even I didn’t know quite yet.

So I made my way to the kitchen for breakfast.

Passing a hallway mirror, I stared; startled + mesmerized.

The vividness of my reflection, unmistakable.

Oh my God, I’m coming THROUGH.

It’s happening.

And it hurts like hell.

To recognize how very veiled I’ve been.

But the grief holds something else, something massive.

A rearrangement of my points of connection with the world.

If I don’t need others to define my (in)visibility nor the space I take up (or don’t); what role do others play?

Looking at my parents between bites of eggs-over-medium, I felt awkward + bumbling in how to relate.

I wanted to tell them that I still loved them even though I didn’t need them.

Not in the way I did.

The safety of the space they defined had served its purpose.

But I have forgone my feeling self to maintain it.

And the more my feeling self holds sway, the less I need their definition, any definition.

A natural order is replacing a transient familial one.

Do they feel this grief I wonder?

They must.

Their space is surely changing too.

Ahh frick, my heart.

Gazing at the sea beyond our breakfast table, I recognize her part in all this.

Her truth telling makes the looking glass so clear.

Like the waves in the distance, my rearranging points of connection are still in motion.

But I’m getting flickers into a new way of needing others.

A truer way.

I think it’s for love. I know it’s for love.

And I can’t wait to need them, him, her, you in that way.

XOXO

 

 

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