Since the states, since so many stupid, venom-scented and kissed words have been exchanged, shared, and spat around...things are coming into place. Wounds are being acknowledged and bandages are being prepared. I've come to this place, this ground-point where I can start to see a horizon, maybe foggy and blinding, but I can make it out. Love is still very much alive.
Since my return, where anger and hatred held its hand out to me along with pain and sensitivity, yoga has bumped it aside and wrapped around my fingertips, pulling me into a long-awaited embrace. I've been practicing daily and my parts are all coming to the surface, all of them are speaking and finally...not being ignored. Though I'm discovering (ever still) that ones my parts want to comfort in, aren't prepared for them, and my parts are quite defensive when other's parts simply can't compute what they are really doing or asking. They're a force, vulnerable, and desperately seeking acceptance but the ever-continuing theme that keeps screaming for focus is patience. I need to accept and learn from them first, and am doing so.
This will be of greater focus for this year, not for anyone else but myself. I need to seek and find patience with myself...in nearly all outlets. I must breathe, be easier on myself, cut some slack...but not make laziness and lethargy interchangeable with that patience.
As convoluted and blurry as the setting may be, and essentially overwhelming all these parts asking for acknowledgement may be; I am nothing but thankful and grateful for their determination. Daily yoga, daily meditation, reflection, and the openness with myself to just hear what's going on is refreshing. I'm accepting this path and this balance...as unbalanced as it may be.
Growth, greater understanding, and achieving at least a greater mental and parts understanding will only help me progress...namaste
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