Trauma fills your bones. It pangs when you drive past places you used to know. The sinews cling to your skin and endlessly stretch their fibrous tendrils to create waypoints back to the source. Shitty little strings you can fray but never fully remove.
2023 ended in hidden pain. 2024 began the task of untangling and attempting to remove the density of trauma’s proteins so that I could move and live freely. Fully.
I’ve danced through bluebells. Swam achey lengths. Dipped in cool waters. Basked under the stars. Expressed my love. Said goodbye.
In the moments where robust, velvety rouge has passed my lips, I’ve shared parts of myself I haven’t in a long time. I’m developing new conceptions of love. New ways of attachment. Developed deep affection for the unlikeliest of people and scenarios. Each intentional moment works to untangle those sinews. And bit by bit they begin to fray.
But some knots are persistent. Matted, scabby and old. They’re buried deep. I approach the end of the year in a hole of my own self-indulgent depression, understanding that undoing some of this pain is going to take a lifetime of work. For the past few days, I’ve been stuck in doom loops wholly confused by the love others have extended towards me during my messiest, undignified moments.
I am exasperated by myself. Exhausted by my contradictions and non-linear healing. Simultaneously grateful for every encounter and experience this year, and aching from deep wounds caused by my incessant gouging to find the rational arguments. To understand the logic. To know why I’m suddenly enveloped by deep affection and unconditional love throughout multiple, seperate strands in my life.
As I write this, it’s only just occurring to me that everything I’ve done this year has led to this point. Which sounds rather obvious. I’ve gone through substantial shifts in my career, education, lifestyle… and shifts in my way of thinking and way of being.
I’m unnerved by these fresh webs. Disconcerted by the realisation of these slow and steady, but wholesome and pure developments. Scared, but bravely feeling my way through it.
There’s no need to draw a line under this year. Nothing to move on from. I’m tired, but I’m carrying on with new fibres. I hope to find comfort in them soon.