contemplating aloneness

still trying to find my way here. would it be any different if i were back in the states? i'd still be trying to find my way. but, i'd feel more secure, more safe. everything is different here. but, strangely enough, not entirely foreign to me. some stuff for sure. but, fuck. i don't know.

that's just it.

i don't know.
i don't know.
i don't know.
i don't know.
i don't know.

what don't i know? well, what's gonna happen.

what do i know? lots of things.

like what?

that i can do this. i can do what is being asked of me. even though i don't know EXACTLY what it is, blow by painstaking blow.

that i struggle with self-doubt. less and less, then more and more, then less and more, then more and less. (rinse. lather. repeat, in an upward spiral motion-path.)

that i have support. myself, included.

that i am scared. and i'm embracing that part of me, too. especially, that part, actually.
"i get it. i really do. who wouldn't be scared doing what we are doing? but, you know. this is the work. thank you for showing up. thank you for your courage to show yourself and speak your needs and not throw a tantrum. i know that you had to do that in the past so that i would pay attention, see you. see how far we've come? we're learning together. i'm sorry this is so hard for us. but, i will never leave you. we're in this together. come here and let's take turns consoling each other. you sit on my lap for a bit. i'll sit on yours for a bit. i'll squeeze you tight. and pat your hair. and kiss your tears. and pretend to be surprised how much they taste like my own. i'll sing you love songs and lullabies. we can even sit side by side or back to back, like forrest and bubba, and just lean."

that i am hard on myself. there is no blueprint for your way, Muki. you are creating it. exhale. breathe. breathe. if you don't breathe, nothing else matters.

that i know how to do this. i wish i didn't get in my own way so much. ego, is that you? there's a place for you here, but not like this. not like this. quit taking over the wheel. ah, i give it over to you? i see. yes, i give it over. i give it over. i no longer wish to do this. it is no longer useful. it's harmful, in that it holds me back from doing what is being asked of me. i will do my best to remember this. and, no, ego, i don't expect you to remind me. thanks for volunteering though. forgive me, but i don't entirely trust your motives. you are a wily one though. impressively so.

that i'm doing my best. and so are others. can i accept my best? can i accept others' best? may i quell my arrogance to make this so.

that there is this tightness in my throat as i write this. and a heaviness in my chest. and tears blurring my sight. my lip trembles as i look away and feel the tears fall down my face, as i feel my own frailty. as i wipe these tears away, i remember my strength...and the strength in my frailty...and the strength in this recognition. and, how utterly grateful i am that there is breath in my lungs and that i am able to feel all of this heartache, while finding joy...as i contemplate this wonderfully terrible, terribly wonderful aloneness.