Integration is not always what we expect. I had this perception that I would have a couple of days to reintegrate before getting into the fray of life.
And the fray can find us, quite easily.
Before even having a full day at home, Barton had an accident and we spend integration day at the orthopedics having x-rays. Yes, I spent my last vacation day waiting in a doctor’s office. Isn’t it ironic?
I was off!
Stepping back into the fray.
Ahhh, the joys of life.
For a long time, it felt like a dream. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I had this amazing experience, and then it was gone.
Did it even happen? Did I really go to Durango and have this profound experience? Why? Why did it happen now, in the middle of the fray? What did it all mean? And what was being born, out of this experience?
I came home with questions.
Lots of questions.
Still, Barton told that it was like I found a core piece of myself that he has not seen since we met. He saw it, even in the middle of the fray.
And that means an amazing transformation took place.
Transformation can take place under the surface, in ways we are not even aware of. We may not see it for a long time. It may be covered up by a busy day. Or our own expectations. And, it is still present. Waiting for us to discover how much we have learned, grown, and evolved.
And here is the question that I held most deeply: how do we integrate these experiences, not to compartmentalize our lives, but to create one, whole life?
I had never fit into one group, always the outsider. When I was young, I bounced between parent’s houses and the kid that was made fun of, when I was in college, the one to travel off to Australia for a semester, as an adult, a woman to marry a man in a wheelchair.
The adventurer came out to play in Durango, and it is a part of my essence that often stays hidden, but is very much alive when I give it space to play and let go of all the worries trying to hold me back into the box.
Enthralled with the beauty of life!
Arms stretched out wide. There is beauty in every single day, even when it is a hard one, even when it feels like the fight of life overwhelms us.
Life is speckled with profound amazing experiences and learning that comes from it. We just don’t always see it in that light.
Processing takes time. Sometimes we may never fully understanding. Knowing can be instantaneous or it can come in dreams, memories, writings, or an underlying knowing or feeling that something has changed.
I spent a great deal of time protecting myself and the experience of trauma.
The word hysterectomy is taboo in and of itself. Coupled with not having children, it’s been tough to navigate this world feeling so alone and out of place. I had been taught that women were supposed to have children. I dreamed of having children with Barton. And how on earth could I possibly explain the complication without conjuring up even more negative judgments?
I spent a great deal of energy trying to protect myself from view. But is that realistic? Replace hysterectomy with house fire, car accident, cancer, chronic illness, family death, lost job, broken marriage. We all have these experiences which expose what is underneath our tough, decorated, manicured skin.
Still a work in progress, I’m learning to share more of my experiences with others.
How do we get through the fray of life?
By pulling the vibrant colored threads of these profound experiences and overlaying them into a vibrant rug. One that is flexible and sturdy, pliable, stand on it, shake it out, magic carpet to soar the skies rug.
And then we ride it as far and as long as we can.
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