I am emerging. I think. In some moments, it feels like that, but I don't know in the next moment if that's actually true. It seems sometimes that whatever I write here isn't true in the next moment. Or perhaps it is still true, like the sky is still true when it is hidden behind storm clouds.
My son and his girlfriend have been here since last Friday, exploring the city together, picnicking in Central Park, or cuddling on the couch watching Olympic trials and Prison Break on Netflix. My son is in such good spirits, it makes me happy to be around.
I had my follow up with the rehab doctor yesterday, who prescribed 4 to 6 weeks of physical therapy to address my lingering snapping hip syndrome. Who knew there was such a thing? I adore my new doctors. I am going to be a good little schoolgirl and follow all instructions.
Yesterday I also went upstairs to that therapy place in the building where I work. I made an intake appointment. It's in August, and even though I thought I needed therapy pretty immediately, I made the appointment anyway, because I'll probably still need a place to figure things out in August. A place to not be reactive and self-destructive. A place to process the firestorm inside so that I don't send scorching lightening bolts into my world. I don't want to wound people with my words any more. Even if I feel wounded.
I want to stop hurting. I want to be so wise about life that I no longer hurt, because I understand everything. I want to be like my daughter, whose very presence is healing.
Thank you all for being here, for clicking the link and climbing inside. Mary Moon, are you here? Did it work? I hope so. I think the reason I didn't stop blogging this week is that I would miss you all too much. And that will still be true tomorrow.
