The Beginning of Everything

...a man rolled down his window and said, Hey, I'll give you $100 to get in my car! And I just kicked off my shoes and started running...

Her words echoed through my being as we rode down the street running over a pair of black shoes, the right first and then the left, second later. I chuckled to myself and choked back the words "Baby, were those yours?" Deciding ultimately that the joke was too soon and the wounds were too raw. 

To everyone who had asked, I told them I had not yet processed the emotional ramifications of the past two weeks. Hell, I had not processed the emotional tsunami that drowned our nation in widespread panic and pain since November 9th. I was not any different than anyone else, in that regard. I was surviving; and right now the best way for me to survive was to go numb to the bullshit and just get through it. However, unlike most, I did not fear the crash of the water against my being. I was not naive and knew that the traumas were surely titanic in comparison to me. No, I was ready to surrender to it. I welcomed it. Not in a self sacrificing way but why should I fear the ocean when I am I wave?

When I held her tiny feet in my hand, I let myself feel their journey. I slowly turned on the spigot and I cried for every stick and stone that pierced her body as she ran. I sobbed because I saw the face of God in her that night.  Her affect was manic, but her conviction was pure and her allegations? All true. She had slipped into that beautiful and unbound place where the history of everything was ready and available to her, and her body couldn’t handle it. 

It’s that kind of paradox that makes her like the sun. Nothing more vital to life and creation, and yet the pure brilliance makes her unable to be held. That night, my love was the sun and I could not touch her because I would have been destroyed; she was creation and she was also destruction. 

Have you ever been unable to just hold the one you love? Do you know the feeling when you finally get to them after periods of absence? When I looked into her eyes and they stared back at me in beautiful, blank infiniteness I feared I would never hold her again. The pain of the loss of something living and breathing right in front of you, wounds you in an indescribable way. Come back to me, just come back just come back. 

I remembered MyLynn praying over Shelby in Steel Magnolias. Open your eyes Shelby! My love had never seen the original movie and nights before she ran, we watched the movie. Experienced laughter through tears and the resilience of Southern women. I begged her to remember the movie. Remember the moment with Shelby and to just open her eyes, come back.  But she couldn’t. 

“You know when something is so heavy you don’t even try to pick it up?“ I explained to a friend, “It’s all kind of like that. I know it’s not mine to carry so I don’t even try and I think that’s been a huge blessing.” This god damn PTSD; beautiful rose with deadly thorns. I sat cross legged in a circle of sand wrapped in white and prayers from my mother and her mother. It was there in my place of safety that I knew this love and this commitment was not beyond my current capacity. 

“You taught me how to love fiercely. Let me.” I told my mother. She understood. I give and I give and I give and sometimes I get hurt. But I give again. I have given to those far less deserving than she, it was never a question to stay or to go. I was here. I could be the stillness. I could be the consistency. I could weather the storm because the storm and I were made of the same things. I knew hell. I was not afraid of it and really, that’s half it’s power. 

So I loved her because I always had. I accept myself as a work in progress. I am willing to make mistakes and lose my temper. I commit to the time to reflect. I commit to apologize for my part. I accept us not as imperfect or broken but as whole and exactly who we are called to be. Messy. Differently Abled. Misunderstood and even crazy. 

Struggling with anxiety, depression, disordered eating, PTSD, panic disorder…well it is not a struggle. It simple is. All of those things are part of who I am, and they are now part of who she and I are. They intersect with who we were before. Black. Queer. Non-gender conforming. Fat. Christian. And all of it blends beautifully. 

I always thought there was freedom in mental disorders. Your mind working a little bit differently gave you character. Gave me perspective. Gave all the colors in the rainbow and all the stars in the sky too. What we see and what we feel and experience is our contribution. It is our frequency, it is our symphony and our note at the same time because we are all in relationship with one another. 

So no, baby, you are not a burden.  You are not too heavy. You are not broken or out of tune, you are beautiful and now that our song has changed keys, things have only begun to get interesting. In me you will always have a friend and with me you will always have refuge. 

All my love, all ways, always.