leaning unhinged.

If I’m honest, this transition back has been hard and my body and mind fights the wrestle to find itself still. This city is both my seatbelt and straight jacket holding me tighter to the point of suffocation. I find myself pouring half heartedly and boundary clad with the people around me, as if afraid to get hurt by the things I carry. 

I find myself bruised and worse for wear by something that I did not expect, from someone I did not imagine would trigger such feelings and emotions. The body keeps the score, and perhaps this person, a personification of the things that hurt me, has reminded my body of the bruises it once held, like tattoo marks on skin brought to light, shone through in an absoluteness of grief, shame, and frustration at the “how did we end up here again?”. 

I am trying to distract myself, but I find myself running to and with people that mirror such feelings. I’ve done the work, but it feels like I haven’t had. Relationships with people have been my Pandora’s box, and should I have been surprised that in my months of leaning into them that the scars of the past continue to hurt me as they do? 

I have much to debrief in therapy this week, and who knows how this goes, but perhaps this is the next chapter of my healing. Of wrestling with the scars of abandonment, being left, alone and afraid in a loud and indifferent world.