confession: there is a gap in my life where a significant love relationship used to take up space. in that wide open space, there is stillness. i’m searching to detect movement, but there is only stillness.
confession: in the summer i think i have too many blankets. in the winter, i am grateful for every blanket.
confession: i have many opportunities before me. too many. the too many are too many because i can’t and don’t want to choose. i stay home and sit on my couch.
confession: even if i wanted to get off the couch, my kidney only lets me do one significant two-hour thing each day. i choose that one thing wisely. i choose my friends. i choose therapy. my finite energy doesn’t allow for anything else.
confession: i’ve been too sick to go dancing for weeks. surprisingly, i haven’t missed dancing at all. i dance in my living room in little snips in the middle of the night–modern dance not partner dance. i spin. i lift my leg high and turn. i balance. i choreograph my soul in forty seconds and for those forty seconds i feel beautiful.
confession: i took myself off the pain meds (mostly), not because the pain has significantly decreased, but because i can’t feel what is happening in my body when i’m high on hydrocodone, and i want to know what is happening, i want the feedback of pain to discern where i am on the healing spectrum.
confession: i went for a walk today and i saw five deer and three adorable dogs walking their people and the pink sunset and my kidney hurt and i was grateful to be outside in the soft light.
confession: i’m still in the hard place, in the difficult years, and i’m wondering when or if my life will ever feel easier.