Relaxation and rest. It has to be the ultimate lesson. Because I see that there is a great deal of energetic redistribution and realignment which has defined my life and the process I have been through in the last few years. That is the point, essentially. From the first moment that David’s departure caused my sense of loss to deplete and deprive me of energy for my lifetime then there was an imbalance established which has had to be resolved.
This battle has been fought on many playing fields: the battleground of my body, the layers of my emotions, the world of my mind and the spiritual world of larger archetypal familial energies. My body’s completely overwhelming needs created by the zinc deficiency were for so long masked by the quelling of the noises that made by actually eating my way through it. That skewed me so much, everything was overcompensation, overwhelm, over perform. And I suppose I inherited from that experience, from watching Mum deal with her heartache, from watching Alex and from witnessing my own behaviour, a sense of an inability to show effect. I absorbed a lack of capacity to display weakness and that lesson is still within me, hurting me.
Mountains have moved as I have learnt to redefine where I receive energetic input and output from. Christ I have absorbed so many wisdoms about the intake and expelling of food (through playing with my insides), emotions (through hard-fought emotional battles dictated by dopamine chemical instability) and mind (through hard-fought mental machinations created by Central Nervous System incapacity and hormonal/chemical issues etc). My entire relationship to energy has been reconfigured and instead of taking it from everywhere with no discrimination and choice, no identity of my own which actually established what I personally required as opposed to taking in absolutely everything without selectivity and harming myself so much in that way.
Jesus I am seeing how fucking amazingly I have done. Rather than drown I have kept my head and learnt through continually being dunked under the water how to rise up and catch my breath, taking in the right amount of fluid (liquid feed…?!) and not absorbing more junk than I really needed so I would sink to the bottom and stay there. I haven’t had a choice. Survival dictated that I had to learn, and fast, how to bring my head back above the water.
What I’ve never learnt, never had to know until now, was that I have lungs and a capacity to hold my breath. There are times when I can let myself stay beneath the water and not tread it so passionately to stay afloat, instead relax and let it take me where it wants. In practical terms I have not allowed myself to feel and confess weakness, to be openly and easily recouperating. I haven’t allowed myself yet to kick back and let the natural buoyancy of the water keep my adrift and abreast of every wave – not sinking, not swimming, but floating aimlessly and drifting with the tides and the currents, the swell and the sway, at peace in the wash because there is a profound inability for me to keep fighting for breath any longer.
There are many reasons I have kept fighting and they mostly revolve around Mum – my angel, my goddess, my beautiful one who I would willingly give my life for, willingly sacrifice everything for her strength and her happiness. If I could change the world (and I can) I would make it hers (and I will). In my Universe every flower blooms for her, every sun ray beams on her and lights up the ground where she walks, she is the most beautiful woman I have known or ever will know. It is a privilege to share a second of time with her, an iota of space with her and a window of opportunity alongside her aura. It is my pleasure to be lying in a hospital bed crying because I’m overwhelmed by the emotion I feel for her, in a hospital bed thinking of and loving unquestionably her.
And I have not only kept fighting for her – that’s not what I mean. I mean I have been fighting because of her – because I have learnt by example, followed her lead and am being her disciple. And I think I now know we both have to relax and admit weakness. It is not enough to know it, we have to actually confess that we are knackered and honour it. She has started – I love it when she tells me she had lunch listening to Ra by the river. I love it when she says she’s tired. She can admit it, but her body doesn’t allow her to rest without assistance. For me, its polarised…my body is forcing me to rest and yet I’m having a hard job in recognising the why’s behind it all. Not logically, not the needs, not the requirement from my body’s thin state but the feeling. I struggle to identify the physical feeling, Mum’s physicality struggles to adhere to what it does feel. We live as one, twinned together in our processes – and we will have success in the development of our lives from now on as we grow within this life we share.
But I need to allow my body to feel its own weakness and incapacity. My body needs to let the chemistries I have now found to convey the right messages at the right time to the right places to allow the right responses. And its all coming, all growing, all building. And I’m starting to feel it – and interpret it accurately and respond accordingly…there is a weakness that supercedes my stupid illogical ‘but I slept last night’ and ‘but I’ve just had 1800 calories and two biscuits’. I wanted a bit more water biscuit tonight and so did. And I’ll probably have a sweetie in a minute too…I’m not tied to the whole restricted sums and calculations of bodily feelings any longer (which I had to be without accurate feeling capacity which came with the lack of zinc). More than that I am responding outside the boxes created by that deficiency and beyond the boxes designated by life experience and the length of my history spent struggling and having to fight the demons of insufficiency and pain.
And I hope I’ve said something that will be true and have legs and stay strong and become real. I hope it isn’t any longer just a mental knowledge but a true identification with my own physical feelings and an adherence to them that comes from a place of self-love and self-nurturance which can now emerge from my own inner capacities to feel myself. And I’m pissed off because my feed has been put off whilst they change bags and check things. Its ridiculous, stressful, annoying and pointless. When all you want is to fly, why are you so often tied to the ground? I have to be allowed wings soon. Real ones. Where eating is not a means to an end which is done against a grain but a free-flowing process of energetic balance and peace, rest and tension in perfect harmony and symmetrical relationship at last. Its started, I can feel it. But this fucking tube still needs replacing and every day I get a tomorrow promise instead of a progression today. I’m desperate now…and desperation is vile and totally against my beliefs of everything in its right timing. And yet tonight I deserve to be just a little desperate, just a little desirous and just a little wanting of my future (in attitude, body mass, consumption and feeling) to be now.
Oh God there's a bitch of a night staff nurse on...keeping self to self seems like the only way forward tonight...I deserve easyness and I deserve it now. If it only takes such heartache for me to cry and admit I'm weak then they can have their tears and their tiredness, they can have my heart and my hope because I'm upset and I'm crying again and I'm tired, tired, tired. Physically tired out and emotionally exhausted, mentally crucified and I'm not hard, I'm not strong and I'm not the world's best person...but I've survived and I'd just like to eat and be well now, please.
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