Heavy on my chest

Was is Coleridge who compared grief (or guilt?) to a dead albatross hanging around his neck? 

In the past couple weeks at my new place I’ve been experiencing renewed asthma symptoms probably triggered by allergens (NOTE: I had never had asthma in my life until after getting sick with COVID in 2020 — I was left with asthma from COVID, which was extremely upsetting in itself, but fortunately the symptoms had subsided in the past year, until recently…) 

There definitely is a real physiological component which is asthma, as proved by the faint wheezing. Today, however, I realized that some of the other symptoms, especially the shallow/difficult breathing and chest  tightness, are also partly emotional. It’s waves of grief coming at me again. It’s sadness and loss weighing around my neck. 

There can be so much pain together with liberation, with the creation of ourselves, with living authentically the life we want as the persons we want to be. 

I love Colorado very much but I also miss California — or, at least, some things of California, for example the gorgeous “Indian summer” they get there around this time of year, and some people who are very dear to me. 

I love Colorado and overall I’m happy here — maybe the happiest I’ve been since grad school or, at least, in a decade. 

But my move to Colorado is also rooted in pain. 

When I visited this part of the world for the first time over three years ago, with a friend in the summer of 2019, I (we both) were doing a trip to try and forget, to get over heartbreaks. It was a wonderful, fun trip with one of my dearest friends, but the motivation of the trip, what had motivated me (us both) was pain, basically. I came here that summer to try and forget, to try and get over a certain person. 

When I came here on vacation in the summer of 2021, I was also healing and recovering from long COVID and burnout from over a year of sadness and fear and isolation and stress. 

When I finally moved here this past winter, I also did it to get away from an unbearable situation in California, including pain. I moved without knowing exactly what I’d do next, after the summer, but then my love for Colorado quickly took over everything and I decided to do everything I could to stay. So, in fact, it was my own conscious, convinced decision to move here (leaving California & so much behind). 

Conscious, convinced decisions, though, are not always pain-free, and mine definitely was not. And I’m feeling all that pain again intensely now. 

Last week was momentous for me: my request for legal name change was officially approved, thus effectively (and unexpectedly early) redefining me to the world and adding a significant step in the “creation of myself”; I went for my second tattoo consultation and got confirmation that I will get another of my drawing tattooed on my upper body in a few weeks, which to me feels like another step in the “creation of myself”; I sent a very important email to a person who’s meant so much to me and whom I’ve loved intensely, to set extremely clear boundaries, effectively closing a door and leaving something big behind me, in the past; I improved in some very concrete and relevant ways climbing, which felt wonderfully empowering and satisfying but also brought back the painful memories and wishes that never came true with two special persons in California; I opened some of my boxes of belongings, which also blasted me with memories, most of which I wasn’t really prepared for or willing to face, yet. 

That’s a lot. It would be a lot even if it happened over a month, or several months: all in one week is almost more than a heart can bear. And it rests heavy on my chest. 

So much of what I left (and am still gradually leaving) behind I truly love(d).