Tenderness Like a Knife at a Dying Deer’s Throat

Last  night I was scrolling through old journal entries, and the dream from the last post came up.  It was not familiar to me.  I didn’t remember dreaming it or writing it until I’d read it three times.  Then it came back to me.  How emotional it was, and how I really had sobbed when I woke up and felt like I’d lost someone that I truly loved to the unfocused dream world.  Rediscovering it, it was immediately clear to me what the dream was really about.  I was me, and my father (authority, judgment), and the center (society, normalcy),and the men who dragged her away to be fixed, saved, shocked, tamed (the empowered demons of my fear).  And most importantly I am her.  She is my wild desperate vulnerable self.  The dream was about me being ashamed of her, hiding from her, trying over and over to send her away, while secretly, drunkenly, surrendering to the bright unsuppressed life that she represented, and her always returning, hopeful and desperate to be seen and allowed.  In the end when I finally admitted to myself that I loved her, it was once again too late.  I’d already sent her away to be rehabilitated.  But we both knew it would be different this time.

I understand that I’ve been looking for her, for that part of myself, since I lost her, who knows when… When I quickly and shockingly swallowed my own bright self the first time I swallowed my voice in the face of a man’s anger and entitlement.  When I started to realize that the world around me would eat me alive, that I would be forever unloved, unless I shifted and warped my own natural growth to accommodate everyone else around me.  I’ve been looking for her in every lover, in every drink, every smoke, every drug, every new town, every desperate all night prayer.  That I did not damage myself and my loved ones far worse in my search for her can be contributed to nothing but grace, and by grace, the survival of an indestructible core revealing a final stone boundary that I only knew existed once I had already sold and traded every other part of myself.  And from that foundation I would rise, over and over, until I was just bright enough to go back out into world, only to once again crumble against whatever I thought would finally give me love.

The biggest thing that happened to me in 2016 was not moving to Hawaii, not breaking my ankle, not quitting drinking, not selling my house, not falling in love again.  The biggest thing that happened to me was that I lost my desperate, entitled need for someone to love me.  I quit looking for her in the outside world,and seeing her reflection in that journal entry, that forgotten dream, coupled with the knowledge that she can’t be found or expressed in any of the dark alleys I know so well, reveals her to me.  Sitting curled up in a corner, with just a little light illuminating her shape.  Waiting for me.  Knowing that I love her and that I will come and take her by the hand soon.

(Apologies and thanks to the brilliant Gala Mukomolova, who gifts us with monthly magic at Galactic Rabbit, from whom I stole the title of this entry.  I read the phrase in an Aries scope she wrote not quite a year ago, which I forwarded to a lover, whose heart broke open when he read it.)


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