Firestarter

I can certainly believe that my last post was in January and it was a dedication to my late grandmother, Frieda.

I will tell you that she’d never live through this pandemic. I’m thankful that she went peacefully in 2019.

I cry every day about so many different things.

I have worked very hard in the years since my divorce to establish boundaries while finding myself. Not all boundaries are firm, some need to ebb and flow like the waters of the ocean I so wish I could touch. (seriously contemplates a drive to the beach and back)

I’m having serious trouble establishing boundaries during this crisis. Work has bled into my home life - not just the actual working from home, but I am working SO MUCH MORE and there’s no break in sight. This past weekend was a little bit of light…well, I should say that a solid block of hours on Saturday was a little bit of light.

***

^^I wrote that two days ago.

Today is like decades away from Monday (it’s Wednesday, right)? I don’t want to think about the future, but I can’t help recycling the past into my present. I said that work has bled into my home life. But I realized today that this is becoming okay. Here’s why:

For the past five-ish years, I have been compartmentalizing my life like a shitty 80’s microwave dinner on a divided plate. My food didn’t touch except for that weird dessert circle that sat in the middle. I guess you could say that was the epitome of a life in venn. That canned cherry blob, with the margarine crumble topping, oozed a bit over the boundaries; I think that was my heart. I tried to give my all to all, a multitasking of sorts that just fell flat. I starved myself and couldn’t enjoy the dessert. Or whatever sounds better.

Deep down I wanted the boundaries to bleed away, I needed to become whole again. I refused to take the first step. I became a master of separation, isolation, protection, self-preservation.

I wanted 2020 to be the year of vulnerability. The year that I took a bigger step forward. Well, here I am, forced into isolation, forced into separation, forced into protection. But I feel so free. I see the forest; I’m sniffing the tips of the evergreens. I breathe through my eyes, and feel with my mind. I am blessed and I am cursed.

I have stepped forward into a light of sorts, high above the trees. I’m taking this all in, feeling it all - the pain, the beauty - and I am finally blending all the compartments. My skin is itchy, but it’s not nerves, it’s not anxiety. It’s the fire that has always burned. I’m just now sharing it with you.

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