there is something that unravels in your chest when you are in the right spot. shoulders let down, breath slows.. its a piece of you that you don’t even always recognize as being wound. (this one is tricky. not a wound. but wound, the tightly wound spool of thread…)
I think, even in a good marriage, you forget to take those moments of unravel. but I don’t know, surely, as I only had a good marriage for a short while.
it is akin to surrender, this unraveling, as a vulnerability in and of relief, a certainty that you are in a safe spot.
seems so simple.
but hello. it isn’t.
all the tiny steps you take to get there. to unlearn and relearn and step out and step back… those tiny steps to move away from a gigantic broken, blistered heart? ‘tiny’ being a euphemism for ‘each and every one is a gigantic, monolithic mass of granite that you can’t see the top of when you first approach. we’re talking rock climbing every step of the way, with our out-of-shape, middle-aged everythings. I’m talking bloody fingers every reaching hand, every single one. and then the release. that spot.
just so you know. sigh. i’m climbing.