During dreaming last night my mind quietly observed that dark icky corner that has for some time been jabbing, burning, and boiling chaotically over a 'situation' that has long plagued me. Conclusions were made, a course of action set, and while unconscious, my subconscious performed the final sorting and cleaning of that dank, oozing space.
Long plagued have I been. Since my teen years, through young adulthood, and beyond. Why be bothered to the point of anguish in my determination to be rid of this blockade? Because when it flares up I weaken, lose motivation for things that are important to me, crabbiness and lethargy ensue. More dastardly is that everything and everyone I love becomes diminished when the sticky, stinky, toxic goo of my infection leaks out, contaminating the treasures of my heart. To be the cause of yet another form of grief inflicted into this life, a form that I am certain can be eradicated, pains me all the more. This enormous, menacing abscess must be lanced, entirely exposed to air, sanitized, dried, and allowed time to heal! For all our sake.
Recently the wound has festered. This morning as I mulled over the content of my dreams, read a little Merton and mulled some more, I discovered that, due to a very recent, bloody battle with this 'thorn in my flesh', something has shifted. My perspective. Headway was made, ground recovered, weapons dropped, heaving sighs and fatigue allowed.
What once was a torturously painful, swollen, infected, raging wound has become a point of surgery, a removal, an incision cut and neatly stitched by a Physician who knew what he was about.
The years of doubling over in distressing anguish were important. They caused me to search for help, to express my lack, my struggle, my abuse. They forced me to notice that something was terribly terribly wrong.
For decades the pain has been with me in varying degrees of misery. I have been agonized but not killed. Thrashed, but not broken. Abused, but not demoralized. Lost only to be found.
To be found. To be picked up, placed in the hands of those who would love me back to health however long and nasty the restoration process. To be nurtured with wisdom, encouraged with insights from sources unbelievably varied. To be given the space to strain and groan, to flail and spit, to whimper and weep during the withdrawal of something that was sucking the life right out of me.
And then this morning, to awaken from surgery, blink, focus, and discover restraint-busting lucidity.
The ache felt now is a diminishing ache. The gentle burn of the incision, the tug of the stitches, the warmth of cells madly working to restore the order of new flesh, new skin, new life.
May this be the end..........and the beginning.
It's been a long time coming.
"I've heard your anguish, I've heard your hearts cry out. We are tired, we are weary, but we aren't worn out. Set down your chains 'til only faith remains. Set down your chains. And lend your voices only to sounds of freedom. No longer lend your strength to that which you wish to be free from. Fill your lives with love and bravery, and you shall lead.....a life uncommon."