Wednesday, January 30, 2013

1,2,3,4,5,6,7...

and I am up.  I get knocked down but I always get up.

The medical saga got me down but I'm back and being proactive.

I am making some changes with food again hoping my immune system will calm down.
I asked for a 2nd opinion and will see a knee specialist in 3 weeks.  I am not laying down and waiting for the world to make everything better.  I am doing what I can to take good care of myself.

I taught my class today (on the pedagogical & psychological aspects of mythological symbols) and it felt good to be alive.  I don't have illness when I am standing in front of the room.  I lecture, answer questions, pace the floor.  Ah to being fully alive.  This is bliss.

I was glad to get home, grateful to have a warm home.  No drama here.  I look at my cat (one of three) Bellaluna and I am overwhelmed with contentment.  She is a cat I adopted from my vet's office 2 years ago on the winter solstice.  I went there to buy cat food, took one look at her and we were connected.  She was nothing special to look at just a short haired grey cat.  Our connection is beyond words, my heart opens when I look at her.  She brings me joy just by being herself.

Those are the kind of relationships I want to have, people being themselves and other people responding in a loving way.  I don't ask for much, do I?  ha!

I still don't miss my friends.  I actually thought to myself "Whew, no more crazies".  I never realized how much energy it was taking out of my life trying to keep up with their latest crisis.  I still love them, but I am glad that I untied myself from their lives.

I am still in search of someone like me. (That reeks of egotism, but its not)  Last week an acquaintance posed a question about identifying our wounds.  I didn't say much about it although several people in the group talked about what that meant for them.

On the drive home I asked myself the question and in the silence came "I've never been loved for who I am" and it hurt, because it was true.

I didn't feel pity for myself.  I wasn't angry.  I have not experienced a mature love.  I don't know if I will get an opportunity in this life but sure hope so.  I know that sometimes things don't go the way we hope, maybe love isn't in the cards for me.  Maybe Bellaluna is as good as it gets.

The more I risk, the more I live, the more I know myself.  I long for someone to share those deep parts of myself with.  I share some of it when I teach, although not in a vulnerable manner.  I share that part of myself when I dance and when I write.

I am not doing all this work so I will be appealing to some guy.  I am doing all this work in order to live, to fully embrace life and who I am and what is real.  I like me more and more.  Even alone, I can be a friend to myself.  I've been a good friend this week.  I picked myself up, looked at what I could do to help, and I am doing it.

Maybe some of us don't get a chance at mature love with another person.

I'm grateful for the cat version.  Love is love afterall.  


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