9-29

It must be raining. There's a gentle noise coming in through the window, like lightly crumpling paper. The cat is pressing his paws into me, one by one, just slowly enough that it toes the line between comforting and irritating. I'm not overly responsive to his requests for attention at two a.m. and sleepily demand he stop, but he purrs and presses, and I'm just on that line where I decide I don't really care after all so he carries on.

There's a comfortable aura in the room and I don't mind being awake even though it is two a.m., because my body feels lax and warm and I like being up to listen to the rain. It will be gone by morning, the pavement will be dry, but I will know that I communed with nature at two a.m. and things were different for her then.  She was open and vulnerable, cleansing herself to make way for the sun, and she let me hear.

I have made way for the sun in me too. It took too long. I've leaned hard on others and become a burden, but I am ready to stand now. I feel guilt for making them care for me, and I feel love and renewed strength and I am ready to be myself again and care for them. That is who I am, not the leaner. I want to open my wings and protect but I suppress my urges to meddle, to mother, to push push push (unless I think they need to be pushed) and try to stand calm and supportive and learn what is needed from me. That is how I grow. That is how they grow.

That panicked urgency he unleashed in me is fading and I am myself again and I do not need to fight, only protect. I must let them have their battles, but I will stand guard as needed. That is how I grow. That is how they grow.

I am letting go of it. I am letting go of him; no more grasping, no more fear as this fades. No more clinging to memories. What's left? Why do I clutch at it?

He leaves my body and my blood and it makes way for new things and old things. Old strength, new comfort and faith, old freedom and desire to love and trust. I am not a girl who reaches, but when someone reaches for me I am there, I want to always be there. That is who I am. I want to be better every day. I want to be someone who is reached for.

My body feels so calm and I hope it lasts. Fleeting concerns swell into me from time to time. My mood flips and I am That Person again, frantic and selfish and grasping at things that do not serve me, but for now I push my mind inside and appreciate my stillness, my slow heart, my loose muscles. I must be kind to myself, I must be gentle when I err, but it is time to be strong again. I must open my wings to myself as well and protect that fragile woman, because she has been through enough, and I am tired of seeing her hurting.