The Little Prince and the Fox

“Stay grounded, baby, stay grounded”. 

I repeat this sentence to myself often lately. 

There are days I feel as grounded as an old, wise oak tree — so grounded I’m amazed at myself. 

And then there are days when I feel like the tiniest, lightest twig carried all over the place by the scary powerful current of a rushing river spilling over a broken dam. On these days I often feel like I might literally fall apart, like I can hardly hold myself, my pieces, together. 

These are the days when I need to repeat to myself to “stay grounded”: to just breathe in and breathe out; take one step at a time; to just do the next thing that really, practically needs to be done — work for the next day, wash the dishes, wash myself, prepare my meal, take care of my pet snake. 

It’s grief. A grief so old and deep that it feels like a black hole that might swallow me whole. Something has finally given, broken open, like a dam, a door, a portal, inside my soul, and grief is gushing out like a powerful, often out-of-control river. In the past few weeks, there have been moments when I’ve been totally overwhelmed and tears, sometimes sobs, have poured out of me — painful but also incredibly relieving and somehow sweet. 

Boy, there’s something so old coming out, it’s almost unfathomable… how did I even keep it in there for so long?!? 

But then I need to come back to my “here & now”, to live and function in the present moment. That’s when my “to-do” lists are coming in handy. I’m often writing them in the morning, instead of journaling, and then going through them, checking off items as I get them done during the day. That helps me stay grounded, especially when the storm of emotions threatens to erupt any moment. 

– “Prep lesson for Wednesday”: check; 

– “Post on Craigslist”: check; 

– “Call cleaners”: check; 

– “Feed pet snake”: check. 

So grounding…  

Breathe in, breathe out: “Stay grounded, baby, stay grounded”.

One of the aspects I like the most about the yoga class I often attend on Wednesday evening is the teacher’s style: her dry humor, her attention to details, the fact that she gently helps or corrects us in our poses while never losing the capacity to make us smile or laugh even in the toughest series of movements. I like the way she brings us gently into the atmosphere of the yoga practice and helps us (or, at least, me) reconnect to the persons and world around us with some simple but wise words. 

One thing she has said more than once, thanking us for showing up to practice, is “Your presence matters: here in this yoga practice and in the world”.

I like how she reminds us to be gentle with ourselves; how she reminds us, or acknowledges, that with all the crazy and concerning, and sometimes downright horrible, things going on in the world, it can be hard even to show up to yoga practice. 

These words are often a good reminder, if not a soothing balm, to me. 

So for whoever might need to hear it today: “Your presence matters”! 

… And this weekend, there’s a particular “thank you” that I’d like to say to my artist&swimmer friend. 

Thank you for the lovely Saturday afternoon we spent together; for the books you gave me; for listening to me and sharing your own feelings and experiences with me. 

And thank you also for naming “it”: PTSD. Thank you for saying that it seems like it’s PTSD that is being triggered in/for me, because I finally felt that I was being truly heard and validated, I finally felt a true, profound affirmation. 

Recently, I already started writing that some specific situations (and maybe one person in particular) have been triggering old trauma for me or rubbing against old wounds of mine. I’ve also started pondering the idea of doing some therapy or working with a counselor again. But I wasn’t really sure in what direction to seek and I also had a bit of the “impostor syndrome” as I felt that maybe “I wasn’t truly traumatized” or “I wasn’t traumatized enough” — whatever that may mean! So I was sort of stuck: feeling that, despite the huge and often wonderful strides forward and growth in me over the past five or six years, I’m still struggling with some issues that I cannot solve on my own or that I take forever to get over (at least, in other persons’ perspectives); feeling the need for some type of specific guidance or professional support, but not knowing what type to seek, or not feeling “traumatized enough” to actually start working with someone specialized in trauma.

But now I feel unstuck. 

I’ve known for a decade that I have abandonment issues. I’ve known for years that this has been interfering with many of my close relationships. And I haven’t really hidden it from the persons who are close to me. But it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve started having the courage (here’s the courage theme, once again!) to actually use the word “trauma” — and that’s been a positive and important step forward already. But to have someone else, a good friend and wise, well-balanced person that I trust, say it and reflect it back to me — for me that was the ultimate affirmation that I needed. It gave me a wonderful moment of healing yesterday afternoon; and it’s also given me the final kick, or clarity, that I needed to seek support in moving forward, for my “next right step”. Now I know what support to seek, now I know what to do, I see the path. I somehow see the solution, because for me being able to name the “monster”, having words or a name for the issue, is already half of the solution. So yeah, let’s name it! This is PTSD that I’m dealing with.

To feel heard and to see the solution — boy, that’s a wonderful combination! And it all came on a sunny Saturday afternoon with some outdoor swimming and ice-cream with a friend: that’s hard to beat!!! 

There’s this song by Bruce Springsteen, “The Wrestler”, with a refrain that often comes into my mind 

“… 

I always leave with less than I had before 

…”

But it comes to my mind by contrast, i.e. it comes to my mind when I actually feel the opposite, that “I leave with more than I had before”.

One of the main themes of this blog is friendship: when I started writing this blog this past spring, I felt mainly compelled to do so because I felt the need and desire to share my thoughts and experiences regarding friendship, which for me is the “highest” or “best” or “most wonderful” of relationships, but also intended by me in a very broad sense (which sometimes can make things complicated for other people). Over the course of these months, I’ve already written several times about many of my close friends, to put into words the lovely moments I’ve had with them, to treasure and celebrate our friendship, and to thank them. 

Today, I’m going to do so again, and even more explicitly. I really want to say how much it means to me that these persons — some of them maybe reading these words now — are in my life. How much it means to me that we spend time together, talk, listen to each other, have a laugh (or a cry, or both) together, go for a walk and ice-cream, share books, connect. 

It is with you, my friends, that I feel that “I leave with more than I had before”: when I walk or drive or ride home from an afternoon or evening or weekend spent with you, my friends — that’s when that refrain comes to my mind and I feel a full heart and literally like I have more than before that meeting. That “more” has been a hand-made mug or cup by a friend who does pottery, or particular food (knowing my weird tastes and nutritional constraints), or books, a shared meal, an extra plate for me at the dinner table — but truly it’s the thoughtfulness and affection and love going into those objects/actions, the time spent together, the hospitality: that is that invaluable “more”. And for that I wish I could do more than just say “thank you” — and maybe these words here are part of what I can give in return.

Rebuilding. That’s how it feels to me at the moment. Almost from scratch but with a heap of gained experience — or rather, it’s up to me to choose what I want to keep and what I want to shed for this rebuilding process. 

Scary. But also full of opportunities.

OMG, it just dawned on me why that clarifying conversation with the boulderer two weeks ago brought me such a mix of relief and grief (and maybe more grief that I had been expecting)! It’s because the closure with that specific person actually for me was the letting go and leaving behind of so much more, of other people and relationships of my past of which that particular situation reminded me.

So basically, I have been letting go of, and grieving, some very old stuff, almost “losing” some of it for the second time. It’s old grief resurfacing in some ways. And thus more intense grief but also more intense relief. More intense relief because only by letting fully go of those past situations, only by getting true, final closure, only by shedding all that baggage from years ago, from an altogether different phase of my life, only then can I truly be open to what life is presenting to me now. Only this way can I open up my arms and heart to these new experiences and persons and feelings, welcoming and embracing them fully. Scary as it may be. 

Sometimes one same situation can bring me such different emotions, depending on the moment, on how I’m processing it or what phase I’m in. 

In the past two weeks I’ve often been feeling that relief and sadness can be the two sides of the same coin for me. 

Two weeks ago, all I was feeling was a wonderful relief, made even shinier by some joy, pride, sense of liberation and empowerment. I felt that I had made yet another step forward in a very strong and positive way. 

Since then, in the past ten days or so, my feelings have acquired layers and tones and shades — and shadows. I still do believe (& feel) that with that clarifying and liberating conversation I made an important step forward for my own good, my own growth (as well as for the situation with that particular person). I still do believe (& feel) that I put something behind me, at last, that needed to be shed. But taking a step forward and leaving something behind also entails loss, and thus sadness. 

Grief comes in waves, I know. And this grief is not too hard, I know — I’ve experienced much bigger, deeper losses. But this particular grief is also more complex, in some ways, as it has to do with a situation that mixed so many different levels and aspects of my life. 

I think the biggest source of pain for me in this situation is within myself: giving up, and leaving behind me forever, a dream. 

I tend to be an optimist and a dreamer, and sometimes this makes things worse, I guess. I have a hard time letting go of my dreams. 

This is where staying in the “here & now”, plunging myself into the present moment, really helps me: this is why work and intense exercise and being in the company of the right people is so helpful and important for me. Almost a lifeline to keep me connected to reality. A little tricky when “doing my own things in my moment” leads me to involuntarily run into or be reminded of the specific situation l’m leaving behind, but such is life, I guess… After all, there’s two sides to every coin! 

I’ve met someone I like in a way that is very different from anyone I’ve ever liked before (or like at the moment). 

We met within one of the groups of climbing buddies and have climbed together three times in the past few weeks, twice with other persons from the same climbing group and once just the two of us. 

They’re non-binary, in sort of a similar way to me, i.e. they’re generally assumed to be female and people tend to use “she” pronouns for them until they’re told to do otherwise — as for me. But there’s something very gender-neutral or androgynous about this person I like — at least in my opinion — in a way that I like very much and resonate with. 

I feel drawn to this person in a sweet and delicate, yet powerful, way that I’ve never experienced before and that feels quite scary. Because I’m afraid of somehow “scaring them away”.

I’d like to get to know them better, to get closer, but I don’t know how to go about it… I know I can be very forward: I have actually been told by several men that I am “bold” or “brave” and that I “can come on pretty strong”. But those were all situations in which, for one reason or another, I wasn’t afraid of “scaring the other person away”. Now I am: I’m afraid of possibly ruining something sweet and delicate and lovely. I really don’t know what to do and it feels so strange and new to me… 

Yesterday I was able to rediscover — or rather, once again express and give resonance to — an important part of myself: the more extrovert, playful part of me who wants (and even needs) to just share simple fun.

I’m neither fully an introvert nor really an extrovert, I’m somewhere in between, needing a lot of time/space to myself but also together with other persons. And while in general I tend to seek one-on-one interactions that often allow me to connect more deeply to someone, I also truly enjoy spending time with small groups of people (if they’re people with whom I feel comfortable — I can be so “socially awkward”!). Despite my quirkiness, there is a part of me that really is — or can be — the “heart of the party” or the “cheer-leader”: given the right circumstances, I truly love organizing gatherings/activities/meetings with a group of friends or buddies. I’ve done it throughout my life for my birthday and other occasions such as housewarmings or any random excuse to celebrate or have relaxed fun. 

In the past couple years, I had done much less of this; partly, like most of us, because of COVID, but partly also because of some of my own emotional and professional roller-coasters. 

But yesterday all of the stars seemed to align again, at last: it was a gorgeous, warm beach day in my neighborhood and I was able to find a few good friends who were available to drive over, impromptu, to have a “beach dinner party”. And it was truly lovely: to be able to be outdoors in good weather surrounded by people who sincerely like and value me as I am, to just relax and chat and have a beer and be my unfiltered self in such comfortable, safe and fun company — what a wonderful gift! I hadn’t had something like this in so much time that I had almost forgotten that it’s possible: I had almost forgotten that I can be truly relaxed, melting into the sand, sharing the sunset, letting myself be hugged by the starry sky and lulled by the ocean waves. And that I can do it together with other people, with persons who truly care and enjoy and value doing this with me. 

I can be fun! 

Yes, I can be “difficult”; but I can also be fun: truly, simply, playfully fun! 

“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” [Victor Hugo]

Last week I was having a conversation with a person to whom I’ve grown close in some weird ways and hadn’t seen since before my amazing trip this summer, so we were catching up and he was asking me how I’m doing. And to explain the extent to which I felt well — healed, liberated, empowered — after my wonderful summer experiences, I said, “Basically, I came into myself and out to the world, and found an accepting, loving, welcoming, warm response from the people around me”. 

Now I’m realizing how that combination of ingredients was so important and good for me this summer: thanks to specific, nurturing or encouraging circumstances and persons, I was finally able to come fully into myself, as a sort of culmination of year-long processes, and found the courage to come out to the world as wholly myself; but this wasn’t sufficient, or the only aspect of my well-being: the fact of feeling accepted and welcomed and loved by those around me, just as I am, just as I was manifesting myself to them — that’s what truly gave me the ultimate joy. 

And that’s what I feel I’m lacking here now. 

I’m not saying I’m not loved or accepted here. I do have some very close, good friends who love me and on whom I can count here, too. But there’s something of the environment here that seems to lack the warmth or open-arms-welcome I had felt over the summer. And while I’m probably in one of the best places in the world to express my non-binary identity fully, I somehow feel that many parts of me (of how I am or how I behave) are unacceptable or unwelcome or considered “inappropriate” here — or maybe most people are just less interested in close, warm connections here as their goals lie more in the direction of professional/financial success? In which case, I would be a misfit here anyway…