wide open

by willeya

i just deleted one of my longest, wittiest, most detailed posts to date.  on purpose.  i started writing to clear my head. i had thoughts – too many – and i wanted to think them instead of just feel them.  so i wrote. and wrote. and wrote.

And then when i got to the last point i deleted all the others.  because, really, they all seemed silly standing next to this one.  it would have been quite the whiplash to read:  i want a cleaning lady and -oh- i might have found my birth mother…

this woman who calls herself my birth mother. the subject came up big again this week.  i can feel the time is approaching for me to look this giant in the face. to open myself to the fury of emotion, so powerful and mixed that i don’t feel anything.  i have put this off for a long time now.

it’s funny what this subject does to me.  it turns me into jelly. i usually like intensity; dare emotions – mine or others – to daunt me; wave my long bony pointer finger in paradox/tension’s face.  but with this one i want to run for the hills. except i can’t because i lost all strength when my legs turned to jelly [funny, maybe. true, yes. my limbs really do go limp when this subject approaches].

i think of jean in the xmen series (so good).  her power lies in her mind – telepathy for those really tracking. she’s so strong that she constantly has to control her abilities lest they consume herself and others.  then – in one scene – she decides to try it out and not hold back. she is standing on a rock over water. as she relaxes her guards and lets all that is true come in, her eyes turn red, her veins stick out and right before she is about to implode the water consumes her, and she dies.

yea, that kind of sums it up. i’m afraid of consumption.  not from my own power, but from the power of this potential truth and the process of getting to it.  if i open myself up to it – to her – what will come?  a new relationship? pressure from within and without? new wounds? old wounds newly discovered? a sea of unplummeted, raw, paradoxical emotions?  nothing. and then a guilty, forced something?  or just jelly jelly jelly.

i know what i need to do but i am struggling to do it.  i am filled with word pictures, similes, and metaphors for my “work” in this area, but none are as good as sara’s.  i’m not surprised that she explains the tension within me perfectly…

this is exactly where i am at and where i have been for almost two years now. fighting to stay open, but curling in around this ache [unfinished mourning. guilty nothingness. overwhelmed expectations.  fear of new places]. whether or not this knot releases, it’s time to uncurl.

to lay snow angel style {but preferably in a field of daisies}                                                  with my eyes open, arms wide, and feet spread…

receiving the truth and all it brings like a lake reflects the sky.