floating.

Spring comes quietly with the many displeasures of transition in a season, and I find myself navigating a familiar yet unfamiliar territory. Perhaps it’s the expectation of something that will never come to pass, or the feeling of familiarity of a space I promised myself I would never unlock again, but I find myself floating within the margins of my existence as if suspended in motion. The emotional fatigue is hitting me hard and faster than I had once realized it to be, and perhaps it’s a lesson and reminder for me to stay grounded in my present.

I get to go back home soon to visit family in Asia, and in another season, perhaps I would be excitable, but my anxious-avoidant state is filling me with an apprehension of when the shoe drops. It is easy to say that this too will pass, or that in time, the anxiety will morph into gratitude, and even though I know it will, it does not negate the fact that the now and ever present of reality becomes that much easier to bear. The story that I am telling myself is that my unconscious is feeling all the feelings that it has not been allowed to feel. The dreams have gotten more vivid, and the sleep lighter. The early mornings are becoming a more ever tangible reality. I am tired all the time not just physically now, but mentally.

I have learnt to be content in allowing myself to sit with the unpredictability of this all, and the dissociation and manifestation of grief in the physical. In another life I would perhaps be overly reactive to my diminishing loss of control, but I recognize that in many ways its the universe’s call to equilibrium; a readjustment, a transition back. How I manage the next few days can only be measured by the grace of God, but I am thankful, that this time I am no longer stumbling as much as I was before in the dark, and that this too will become a story I mark my wrestle in.

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finding space in the margins.

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thirty lessons at thirty.