The Day After Christmas

Ok, the day after Christmas always promises to be a bit bleak. Like the come-down after a sugar rush. Like the sleep-induced depression after a long night out somewhere. Like the desire to curl up and sit and warm thyself after a long romp in the snow. Although I forget what snow feels like and don't wish to feel it anytime soon, I feel the after-effects of Christmas strongly, and feel like a huge shift is finally coming to a head.

It feels enormous and scary, sort of like how I think most mothers must feel as they near the date of the baby being released into the world. I don't know how they do that. This in and of itself is terrifying enough and feels so out of control, which is a good thing. I can see the health of a move like this, through the fear and oddly colored spots that form as if I have been hit on the head with a Truth blow. I see purple and stars of red and blue, and the fear takes on a yellow tone that makes me crave a hole to escape into.

It has been a long time coming though. I am 24, and it is Christmas (the day after), and I have yet to experience a relationship, a party of people I love, an anything really, without having to leave/not embrace it fully/retreat, because I do not handle it very well. I dislike this, and I want to change. I am being drawn to change rather than pulled and pushed to it. Change that precedes good things. Like the changes of snow melting. My heart melts the icicles that have kept it safe in this frozen desert tundra.

I am a polar ice cap, a polar bear haunt, and I am letting my cubs run a bit in the snow. They're a bit wary, having only tasted the cave and my milk for so long, but as they warm up to the fun of the earth, they will become grounded in what it has to offer, the good and the bad.

I just want to frame it myself. I want to see it in a positive way, and not be swayed into putting it into an "eating disorder" frame, or an "illness" frame, or any other type of frame. I don't want "malabsorption" to be the title of my intestines. I want "learning," "journeying," "suffering for Truth's sake," and "the power of family" to be my roots and my titles. I want each pore in my intestines to be named "Princess of the One True King," and for each step I take internally to be seen by my God, honored by my God, and not forsaken by Him.

He has promised me He will not forsake me, no matter the mistakes I make, and I fear I have made too many, and I try to make too many, to test Him and see if He is true. I don't want to test Him anymore. I want Him to gather me to Him and romance me mind, body, and spirit in His ways. This is what I desire above all.

Flow. Flow in the form of life and death and tears and laughter. Flow in the form of anger and acceptance, embracing and sleeping in the safety of His love. I am not sure what is coming. The deluge of life that may sweep over me, but I know I want to take more steps to being fully and preposterously present with the people Around me, not the voices in my head. They have been constant companions, ones that have proven themselves to be fleeting. My family is not fleeting and I do not feel like letting them suffer my absence any longer. I am capable, loving, hopeful, sweet, angry sometimes, jealous too, and selfish. And that is ok.