It Running Through Me

Dear WEb,
Last night was the second night of the class I am facilitating. It went well for the women, and I felt like I stayed mostly outside myself. I think I am doing this disconnect thing with myself because tonight we met in the same meeting place we met with last year's class. The last time I'd been in that space was soon after Phoenix was killed. I was in shock tonight that it hardly registered at the time and I totally ignored and didn't acknowledge the obvious fact that we were in a different meeting place than last week, totally unfamiliar to these women. I just proceeded like nothing had changed. Strange when I think back.

Later in bed, I had a difficult time falling asleep even though I was tired, my eyes feeling the strain from 'holding' the container. That's usually where I end up feeling it. Finally, I let go into sleep only to reawaken around 3:30 with the same mental replaying. "What do you need/want? How can I support you?" is how I finally respond after a good long time of letting the mental train go freely over and over again the same tracks. This time the response to my questions took awhile. And I came to know my disconnection again, from myself. Eventually the tears came and my grieving heaved through. I felt out of control, with the worrisome questions of "What's happening to me?" as my body began to involuntarily shake. I felt scared, alone, out of control.

I began to recall just several days ago when I experienced serious constipation. (As I begin to allow myself to 'tell' this I am noticing the concern about eyes reading it--too personal, too 'taboo', will gross you out, etc etc). Breathe. I want to tell the WEb, record it here. It is that important for me to remember the experience's place in the family of things.

So, I experienced uncharacteristic constipation this week. I was uncomfortable with it for much of a day at work, though was able to function alright. I did everything I knew to try to get things moving again--eating lots of fruit, drinking water, not eating animal protein etc. And all I experienced in response were cramps like things were moving, just not able to move out. Then that night, when I got home I tried a suppository. Again, cramps, more intense and still nothing. It felt like a still birth. A pregnancy that would not complete itself and I was in pain! And very very scared having not encountered this kind of stuckness before. I called a sister who told me I needed an enema, but there was no way I could walk across the room let alone get in the car to the store. Plus, I was scared to try anything else because it might not work either. And it feels so invasive...I might hurt myself, it might stimulate hard memories etc et. And yet...what was there to do?

So, I waited. Paced beside the toilet. Massaged my back and belly. Let out gutteral sounds. Paced some more so my legs wouldn't fall asleep sitting on the toilet. I did everything but cry, I realize now. When my partner came home from work, there I was in all my misery. She knew what to get at the store, took less than a half an hour to go, get the enema and return--record time. And at that point, all my reservations were gone, gone! It's got to work...I'm willing to risk it not working. Something has to give. I cannot do this on my own. I've tried to 'let go', relax on my own, coach myself through....and I cannot.

After the enema, I experienced the most visceral letting go I ever have. I immediately felt nauseous and thought i would throw up as I sat on the toilet waiting for something to work. I was so scared that the 'stuckness' was so bad that the enema would only be able to elicit vomiting. That's how it felt. I was scared. So scared and there was nothing I could do. Then the release came following a heave in my gut that was so out of my control. I'd been pushing, massaging, moving all day trying to get things in my gut to move out. And this release came from a heave that was Me, but not me. And...it worked. I really felt like the vomiting did happen...my intestines vomited. When I went to bed that night, my body quivered all night long. I think I wimpered and cried from the emotional aftershocks throughout the night. It was an intense experience and a differently intense aftermath.

This morning around 4 am when the grief began to flow, I began to involutarily shake again. As I let the disconnect with myself move into connection, .the words came to me, "You're just going through it, Love". My right hand had gently found her way to a soft part of the back of my neck. I felt myself with myself, finally. Even if just for a moment. I let myself continue to go through it while staring at Phoenix. Missing him so much. And then outside a wolf howled. It was so distinct. Quiet before and quiet afterwards. I know it was him missing me. "What are we do to about this missing one another?" I begged. So, moments followed moments for several hours.

Somewhere during those moments after moments, the notion of 'going through it' (ie the grief, my process etc) shifted to an awareness of 'it going through me'. And I began to think about this month of January--having that bronchitis for several weeks before it got so bad that I had to stay in bed for a week. The gallons and gallons of mucous that moved through me during that. The antibiotics. All the herbal remedies, cough expecterant etc etc. And now this week with the intense back up in my intestines. This month "IT" is definitely going through me. It is true that since Phoenix was killed, my body has been in the picture: I've had back issues, leg issues, neck issues, banged my head etc etc. And that was also, I believe, 'IT" going through me. I just didn't realize it quite like this because I was able to respond to all those conditions and 'do something' to help things along. I guess I did eventually here in this instance too with an enema. However, this visceral experience of letting go was as poignant as it gets. I get it in my gut now--"IT" is moving through me, Love.

I record all of this on the WEb, affirming I am safe and protected from judgement and harm. This is my Life. And this is how I am choosing to Live. A Life must be born, over and over and over again in moments. Moments of a soft hand against the back of a neck, moments on the toilet in great despair and fear, moments of a wolf howling outside a window on a cold dark winter early morning....moments of nothing, then something...running through me.

Love,
Melissa