I failed to appreciate the initial onslaught of feelings. I spent much time trying to capture them, lock them away, or in some other way submarine them. This only had the effect of retarding my recovery. I had to reframe my thinking. I had to start with simple calisthenics, embrace and celebrate. As my emotional health began to take shape, I started the foundations for tiny shrines, each with its own theme. Happiness had a party going on until all hours. With grief, there seemed to be a constant internment in progress, body or no. Fear showed an IMAX film of the realities of life on earth, and curiosity had an endless library plus a DSL line. Making myself a willing and frequent visitor to these contrasting places created in me wholeness and peace. Never again do I have to trudge the two dimensional desert of my monochromatic former life.
Write love letters with your favorite pen.
The Key You See
The key you see is letting you accept me.
Oh, how I hide from that, run from that, flee from that.
I must be in control of what you think of me.
I curtain off the view of me
I don’t wish to share with you.
Add to that the unusual choices of what I hide.
I will strip down with all the lights blazing
long before I would let you see me drop the ball,
be confused, misunderstand.
What I truly fail to realize is that in the process
of trying to hide my faux pas and fumbles;
what I show you is my controlling ass.
Backside bare I moon you with my freak show
trying to hide my humanity.
Your compassion and tolerant waiting for me to calm down
and open my eyes is the key I fail to see about you.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault