apr 21: sharing this strange body
sharing can take the edge off strangeness. a friend bears witness to the strangeness, and can hold it, because out of context, it is not so wobbly and sharp. and you see, oh: this strangeness is holdable. and you think, oh — maybe i can hold it, too.
sometimes you just need that recognition.
he is familiar with my skin prickling up, and with the tightening in my shoulders. he is familiar with the ways i turn and tense when overwhelmed, and all the situations that overwhelm me. he is familiar with my shallow breaths, and with my deep ones. and while he does not understand in full the reactions of this body of mine — well, no one does. certainly i do not.
sometimes this incomprehension would disconcert me. i appreciate this dear body, but i am also confused by her and frustrated with her. she reacts in strange ways: she is often strange to me. and i would find myself upset, that the me who has gone on all these adventures, who has spent so much time present with herself, is so unpredictable and inexplicable to herself. and the thinking turns and it turns and it turns on itself; and there’s such fertile ground for uneasiness and insecurity.
but all that has faded. it’s not so wobbly, not so sharp, any more.
i tell him another piece of the strange. and he nods his head, not because he understands this particular, but because he understands there will be inexplicable particulars. and he holds it, respecting the strangeness, but not concerned by it. it is the posture i have been teaching myself to hold, but to see it practiced helps. the posture solidifies, just a little more; and a little more, i learn to hold, carefully but assuredly, myself.