This morning after my yoga practice and meditation I cried. and cried. and cried. I don’t know why I was crying, exactly. I guess I’m just sad today. And perhaps the why is none of my business, the why is a box full of puzzles, at least thirty of them, the pieces all mixed up, several of them missing…
I find myself wanting to cure myself of this hysteria. The woman inside of me who is still crying…..she is screaming. To move away from her, I wander around the house dusting shelves, watering plants….then I peek in..I watch her coming undone….I turn up Mozart to turn down her insane rantings and unravelings.
I wonder if I’m having liver chi stagnation, I think about going in for an emergency accupuncture session. Do they do that? Is it PMS? It’s possible, I look at my pack of birth control pills to confirm my suspicions…a whole 1.5 weeks out. It’s possible that….. my heart chakra is imbalanced….I am in the process of forgiving my bad dad….I’m past due for emotional spring cleaning….I’ve been reading too much Anne Lamott…
I remember that last Easter weekend we were hiking in Virginia, pausing to pet wild ponies, and to drink cheap Australian Merlot right out of the bottle. We stopped to rest on the Appalachian Trail and eat the sandwiches I had made that morning. His had salami, mine did not. ..there was a fight…we were fighting about something….. unlike me, he’s not much of a fighter, even though he fires guns at live things..and then we weren’t fighting…. then he was teaching his dog to shake, and I was feeling warm and fuzzy from the wine, and concerned about the climb down while feeling warm, fuzzy, and full of avocado and cheese.
Maybe she’s tearing off her skin because she is missing him and the dog who wears a red bandanna around his neck, the dog she taught to roll over using a piece of bacon as bribery. I go inside of myself to remind her of the insanity and the pages of reasons we had to say goodbye….for now.
I haven’t had a good cry in weeks. I love me a good cry. I’ve noticed lately though, I don’t feel like crying, I don’t feel especially sad about anything, nor have I felt especially excited about anything.
This made me feel suspicious. The middle is so unusual. and flat. and just……fine.
But today I am full of broken glass, and I am finally going to sit in the shards and let them slice me, puncture me, and rearrange my innards, cause it’s what is being called for on this Saturday morning. The hysteric has won my attention.