Even though I have had my ups and downs over the last 11 weeks, I still have not been able to let loose and have a good cry. I woke up this past Monday morning feeling beat up, and all week I have been feeling extremely vulnerable -- exposed, raw, bruised -- as though I've been put in a blender and liquefied. The emotional stuff is right there, I'm almost drowning in it, and I still haven't been able to cry.
Partly, I feel like I'm having to hold it all together, in order to be able to make decisions and move myself forward into whatever new life I am moving into. Although this subconscious strategy may actually be counterproductive: if my energy is going into suppressing painful emotions, fear, despair, etc., that's not likely to contribute much to my decision-making abilities.
I'm also wondering if it will be at the point where I finally have my own home again, alone in my own space, that I'll be able to let go enough to cry. I don't truly feel that I'm in a safe place. In the last 2 months, I have seen many acts of simple kindness from my fellow human beings. I have also experienced first-hand things that have been breathtaking in their lack of kindness. This hurricane has brought a lot of people to the edge, exposed our points of vulnerability, showed where we have difficulty being in this world, where we react by fighting within ourselves and with each other.
I'm not just referring to those of us at ground zero. From talking with other Katrina survivors, it seems that a lot of us are having to deal, not only with our own issues, but also those of the people around us, the people helping us, and the world at large. In some way, right now at the outset, we seem to be carrying these issues for everyone.
On one level, my feeling deeply unsafe may well be a result of witnessing the destruction caused by this hurricane. It's a typical post-traumatic symptom. However, I am aware that the hurricane only exacerbated and made clear what was going on with me already. I don't think I've ever really felt safe being in this body, in this world. Or to put it more strongly, I've always felt downright unsafe.
It occurs to me that this is part of the human condition, one whose time has come to be addressed. What is the prevailing state of consciousness in the U.S. right now? (Since I live in the U.S., that's what I can speak to; my friends in other countries can tell me how it is there.) The fear of terrorism -- or fear of germs, fear of criminals, fear of old age, fear of people who are different -- add your own here -- and all of the mechanisms of control, judgment, and projection that we use to avoid seeing what it's really about.
So naming my blog "For Shelter, the World" was an act of trust for me, as well as a telling of the truth and the setting of my intention.
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