Healing is like a spell slowly breaking
Healing is like a spell slowly breaking. One day you just wake up and realize that whatever it was, it has no power over you anymore.
Last year I was with a friend, talking about being sick; about how much I hated it, and how sad I was to have to hold back on life because so many things were too hard on me. She was comforting me and said, “One day you’ll just wake up and realize you haven’t thought about it in longer than you can remember.”
I couldn’t imagine that day, but I imagined that I’d feel really excited when it came. I was tired of knowing not to go to the fireworks/light show, not to go to the gathering, being afraid to go see the band who was maybe gonna yell about how they were from Olympia over a loud PA. Even then I was tired of leaving the parade, leaving the conference, leaving the show, leaving the city.
I was tired of living in fear of life, and – much worse – of having those fears confirmed when I did try to do things and got overwhelmed and felt myself shut down or re-fracture or hallucinate or break down.
But she was right.
One day I just woke up and realized – holy shit, I’m ok now.
It’s not just that I haven’t thought about it in longer than I can remember, it’s that in the fewer and fewer times when I do think about it, I’m less and less bothered. I don’t break down. I don’t hallucinate. I don’t lose my ability to talk. I have normal feelings.
It happened and it feels like a spell broke. Like I can not be contained by the past any longer, like 30 years of memories that supernova-ed out have compressed back and are just a dying star.
I survived and get to just be the new person I am now. It’s time to pass the ring on.
Healing is like a spell slowly breaking. One day you just wake up and realize that whatever it was, it has no power over you anymore.
Last year I was with a friend, talking about being sick; about how much I hated it, and how sad I was to have to hold back on life because so many things were too hard on me. She was comforting me and said, “One day you’ll just wake up and realize you haven’t thought about it in longer than you can remember.”
I couldn’t imagine that day, but I imagined that I’d feel really excited when it came. I was tired of knowing not to go to the fireworks/light show, not to go to the gathering, being afraid to go see the band who was maybe gonna yell about how they were from Olympia over a loud PA. Even then I was tired of leaving the parade, leaving the conference, leaving the show, leaving the city.
I was tired of living in fear of life, and – much worse – of having those fears confirmed when I did try to do things and got overwhelmed and felt myself shut down or re-fracture or hallucinate or break down.
But she was right.
One day I just woke up and realized – holy shit, I’m ok now.
It’s not just that I haven’t thought about it in longer than I can remember, it’s that in the fewer and fewer times when I do think about it, I’m less and less bothered. I don’t break down. I don’t hallucinate. I don’t lose my ability to talk. I have normal feelings.
It happened and it feels like a spell broke. Like I can not be contained by the past any longer, like 30 years of memories that supernova-ed out have compressed back and are just a dying star.
I survived and get to just be the new person I am now. It’s time to pass the ring on.