My body remembers all that’s happened to me. Anniversaries are felt deep within, in my bones, in my bowels, and in my skin. In my heart, I feel twinges of pain, echoes of ache, over physical and emotional injuries and over loves lost long ago. My mind is slow to recognize why. When melancholy strikes seemingly out of the blue, my mind doesn’t understand. But my body does. The body remembers what the mind fails to see. And it doesn’t take long for the mind to recognize that the body’s still grieving. Going through all the stages of grief. Year after year. Grieve, rejoice, repeat.
I wrote that the other day. And the synchronicity was eerie. It wasn't just I who was having bodily memories. I found out that same day that a client had returned to the hospital with some complications from a surgery that was a year ago.
The body remembers. How to help it forget? Or not to forget, but to let go, forgive, move on, and grow? Perhaps all that remembering, painful or not, conscious or not, is part of the process. No getting around it. No rushing it. No ignoring it. The only way out is through.
© 2009
Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
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ReplyDeleteMaybe it is our invitation to attend a celebration, a birthday party of sorts. Not necessarily with grieving but with respect. Respect for life who has given us much and respect for us, who have accepted it - one way or another.
ReplyDeleteI am deeply familiar with these "body remembrances" and when I am able to, when I am clear enough to, I feel grateful for the reminder to stop for a bit and celebrate. Because it is so much better than to just zoom past.
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed. Thank you for the reminder.