This is now. This is the moment. And it is my moment to own. And I own it for what it is.
I've been sitting still since I got home. Well...I wrote a couple of blog posts, but I have really been sitting in awe of everything.
Historically, and 100% of the time, people kick me when I fall. They take advantage of me before the fall, then I fall, then they make sure I stay there for awhile. They point fingers at me, tell their friends about me (in front of me), and remind me of all of the shit I have been through, what I did, and how bad I am as a result.
Why, then, in this situation, did I fall, and yet instead of getting kicked and reminded of how bad I am, I was given the equivalent of being helped up by someone I hurt, then dusted off, and reminded of my capabilities?
I prepared for what I am used to: I was thinking about all of the applications I've filled out, which ones I'd check on, whether or not I would beat myself up for it, and how I would do it -- physically, by drinking more alcohol, or anything else self-destructive. Or if all of my effort the past 17 months was really a set up to prove how little value I have or am...and whether or not it would be time to simply end it and accept whatever happens after we die.
Instead, I'm silenced by this incredible and unexpected act of kindness and generosity. I don't understand. I really don't. All of those negative plans are replaced with an overwhelming sense of calm. Of peace. Of quiet. Of, being still. Instead of repeating a long list of reasons why I am such a worthless pile of humanness over and over in my head, I have nothing. The last few days at work, I've been working. Hard, like always, but today, I had to stop working several times because I couldn't stop crying. And I wasn't crying because I was sad, I was crying because I really don't understand at all.
And because I am humbled and grateful and in awe of this unexpected gesture.
I don't feel my negatives. I don't feel my defects of character. I don't feel my badness. I don't feel my damaged self. I don't feel my setbacks. I don't feel self-hatred or self-pity. I don't have anything to compare my present self to. I just have my self. And my now. And my short list of things on my to do list.
And I can't feel scared, just really unsure. I can't feel sad, just really quiet. I can't feel guilty, just accepting...of my now. And in some sense, it's as if I'm not sure how or where to walk at the moment. To be honest, it's like anhedonia without the paralyzing depression part. I don't want to do anything. I just want to keep sitting here and accept the present moment as it is. No daydreaming of possibilities. No grandiose thoughts. Nothing.
I don't think I have ever been still, before. It's as if all of my bad stuff was before that tremendous act of kindness. And now I am here.
This is now.
This is the moment.
And it is my moment to own.
And I own it for what it is.
I don't understand. And in some ways, I feel as if I am not supposed to understand. There is nothing to understand or make sense of. Only something to accept for what it is. It is something that is transforming my core into a vessel of peace. Of calm. Of acceptance.
I don't understand. But I am so grateful for it. I don't feel I deserve it, but the longer I sit on this side of everything, the more I feel my old self falling off as if it were an old robe. And this new self is raw, unrefined, unused, slightly matured, slightly smarter, slightly stronger, and slightly more capable. Perhaps a little bit fragile, due to its newness, but stronger, nonetheless.
All I know, right now, is that I am.
I am so many things.
I am strong.
I am intelligent.
I am capable.
I am thankful.
I am humble.
I am blessed.
I am calm.
I am at peace.
I am still.