Credit: Pexels @Cottonbro

The Art of Healing Part II: Hydrate

PUBLISHED November 4, 2016

There is a cheapness that clings to your cells once you’ve been disposed of. Chosen not. Left in the dust of a memory.

You feel yourself being part of the past. A part of you is no longer alive. No longer alive in the life of a someone.

I thought I was stronger than this. I’m confused as to where this is coming from? There’s a sickness inside of me and it is sucking the luxe.

It’s not you – it’s the hurt that lingers in your wake. You are gone and so why can’t you take this part with you?

And I’ll say it again, it’s not you. Because that may have gotten misconstrued.

It’s not you – it’s the hurt that lingers in your wake. It’s this rattling in my chest; broken pieces of a used-to-be functioning organ. Pumping, pumping, pumping warm blood through pink arteries. Now splintered, now unwhole.

And the red and white blood cells can’t seem to find their way to necessary extremities.

Making me totally numb.

There is a chill that clings to your cells once you’ve been released.

You look behind you at vast, vast stretching plains. Fog teasing wet grass blades, dewy. Toes dripping into dirt. Where…am I?

And why am I alone?

And why am I afraid?

I thought I was stronger than this, but my steel armor is no match for the chemical warfare.

The first few moments felt like liberation. I had wanted this. I had known from the seat of my True Purpose that I had to be on my own. And I could feel it coming from across the country. You were tucked in the hills of California but I felt your chill. A sudden change of the wind. A woman always knows.

And a surge of pink light coursed from the core of the earth up, up, up brightening every chakra, shooting through third eyes, the moment is here and I know it is part of Your plan and I welcome the ebb and flow, no, the roar and rumbling of the Universe. Spill onto my path. Drench me.

Pack, pack, pack my life into boxes.

It’s amazing how our bodies can get us to safety. How adrenaline pushes us through pain. And only when you stop to catch your breath do you start to feel the gaping hole, and look down to see your insides spilling.

Miracles of nature.

(Blood is oozing from the sides of the band-aid. Why do I feel like the worst is yet to come?)

Bodies And Brains In Love: 

Nothing compares to a first love and here is why: When you first fall in love it is a foreign entity in your flesh, like a new virus. You have nothing to compare the feeling to, nothing in your biology to fight it off. And it is so strong and so unknown and so overwhelming that finally you submit to the sickness. Because you are no match for its strength of conviction. Like an addiction, it tugs at your veins, convincing you you need it.

And you will never love like that ever again in your life.

No, you won’t ever love like that again because now your body can detect love coming. Now your antibodies are armed. Now you have a point of reference.

(I am learning as I’m typing.) 

Now you are weary of Love’s presence. You can sniff it out, see it coming from around the corner. Or across the bar. Bloodhound like skill at catching whiffs of its stench clinging to buttoned collars and sprigs of facial hair. Is this the beginnings of it, here in these brown eyes? 

And as you feel it coming, as your hairs first vibrate as they raise to stand on end, suddenly your chest tightens, and your heart hardens. Because your body knows:

With love comes pain.

It has learned from being burned that hot surfaces scald. Brain stem kicks in. Ancient fear response built over millions of years of evolution: Protect yourself from the things that may cause harm.

And now the worst has happened. You have been forever altered. You have been changed. And this is what I mean when I say it is not “you.”

The more stress and fatigue applied to a muscle the stronger it gets over time. The heart has calloused. Dancers feet. Days and days of spinning around on one foot. It is tough and chewy. Your eyes a little dull. Splendor unimpressive.

And dear Future New Love, it’s not what will you do to me but what will you take from me? What part of myself must I sacrifice next? Which limb must I lose to Love’s insatiable appetite?

I have nothing to offer you. My well has been dried and depleted and I’m only just filling it back to sprinkle water down parched lungs to bring a little song back.

Because the beast can have everything,

Take everything,

But I’ll be damned, damned, damned if I let it drag down my voice.

P.S. There’s More

Content text