summer camp confessions

confession: parts of colorado where i was hiking two weeks ago are now on fire. when i see photos of the fires, a small voice inside me cries, “i was just there.” the trees i hiked between no longer are.

confession: i want to move away to avoid dealing with hard stuff i’d have to deal with wherever i moved because i carry it inside me. the notion that i’d leave it behind is a fantasy.

confession: i want a new name, but the names i’ve been given (legally and nicknames bestowed with love) are the names that best suit me. desiring a new name comes from a desire to be a new person, a different person, somebody else. the truth is that i’m stuck with me.

confession: i don’t know what to do next. because i don’t know what to do next, i’m trying to sit still and wait. i’m not good at waiting, but i’m getting better.

confession: i hear myself say “i don’t know what to do.” that’s a lie. i know exactly what to do, but i’m afraid to do it because it hurts.

confession: three times a week i sit in the circle and listen. i don’t speak. in the silent moments between one person sharing and the next, i imagine what i’d say if i were to share. i know exactly what i’d say, but i say nothing.

confession: yesterday i felt like i was dying. last night i felt like i was dying. on my way to an appointment at noon today i felt like i was dying. it has taken me two days to realize that the “i’m dying” feeling is because part of me is dying. i am currently in process of releasing several sick patterns. i’ll be healthier and more alive without the patterns that are dying.

confession: i had an angry dream about him, five and a half years later. for five and a half years, i’ve denied my anger toward him. over and over in the dream i knocked him out, pulled him to his feet, and punched him again. as i woke from the dream, i thought “now i have closure.”

confession: papi is 46 years old and i’m 38, but together, papi and i are childlike playmates. papi braided leather “summer camp” bracelets for us a month ago. we’re wearing them until they fall off, as is customary for friendship bracelets made at summer camp during childhood.

confession: there are a few people who have seen papi and my bracelets, immediately recognized what they were, and felt envious. i love having friends who know about summer camp bracelets and want one of their own.

 

 

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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