I am sorry I didn’t know how to feel my feelings.
I am sorry that I waited for you to step up and tested you in ways that weren’t fair. I am sorry that I set you up. I didn’t know. I didn’t know any better and I didn’t know how to feel the pain. So I ignored it, I didn’t even know it was there. I know now. But I didn’t know then. I couldn’t. It showed up in small ways, the pain. In the way I yelled at you and gave voice to it through anger. Anger was the safest feeling. Anger was powerful and anger kept me distanced so that I could make the choices that I did without thinking. I was vulnerable then. When I was offered an alternative to the pain and anger, I took it. I felt that fully. I let that sink in, and I still feel the pleasure of the memories, the excitement, the thrill. But I couldn’t feel the pain. Pain doesn’t relent. Pain resurfaces and pain can’t stay quiet. Anger is pain dressed for battle. Anger is the protector. So I made the choices. I, or rather the subconscious, made choices that were sure to bring that pain up. I lost everything. Everything. I blew up my life before I even knew what happening. I hid behind alternative feelings. I am sorry that I did that, I didn’t know.
Then, I faced that pain. I faced that pain and all the pain since within the boundaries of a yoga mat. I twisted and turned myself inside out to find freedom from pain. I tried to avoid it. I tried to take care of myself. Trying isn’t the way. The way is through surrender. There is no other way. There. is. no. other. way. I had to surrender to the pain if I was going to heal it. I tattooed the word surrender in sanskrit to my forearm as a reminder. And then came more pain. Worse pain. Pain more heartrending. Do you know this kind of pain. You probably do. You’ve been through more than one war. But, like me, you survived. We survived. We all survived.