Whispers of the Starfish

my heart opend today. A wee crack gasped for air and let out the pressure of years and years of build up. A dusty dry cough hanging in the air, the sputter of an engine that has sat idle for far too long, my heart opened up today. I think we like to romanticize the heart as an embodiment of all things flowery, ecstatic and caped in blankets of joy, when we forget the value in listening to it's stories of hardwon heartache still unlearned, it's sorrow of seasons past, its fear of becoming a flower once again rather then stay rooted as hard as a strong oak tree. My heart opened today. It began as a cool gentle breeze before quickly spiralling into a sea of terror, powerlessness and grief. My insignifcant place in the universe overwhelmed me and there in the middle of all of it sat my relationship with myself. I remembered that afternoon meeting in the school counselors office, fourth year of undergrad. My marriage was out of control, dark and wrought with violence. I was exhausted by contending these forces, carrying a full plus courseload and raising a baby. I was also in the middle of planning a wedding. The counselor asked if i thought there was a relationship with my thoughts on how things ought to be and the conflict with how they had been and my feelings of worth. My heart opened up then too and inside that identification, a well spring of sadness...she had seen it. My life had happened the way it had, because I simply wasn't deserving enough to experience the wondrousness of pretty white weddings and shared child-birthing. The TCM that was working with me in ontario contacted me two weeks ago to talk about the current state of my skin. "Your skin is angry Erica?...noo, you are angry!". I racked my brain tirelessly, checking in with the different sensations in my body, I really didnt feel anger. "nor could i identify anything that truly still sat as residual anger in my body. "I don't feeee-eeeel angry" I responded innocently..."yeah" he sighed :thats because your disassociated from your body". On my hands and knees scrubbing Madison's post operative puke from the floor, I remembered the child rearing deal Ken and I made when she was a baby - he would do puke, i would do poop. As i puckered up my nose at the tangy sour scent of vomit i've never been able to handle, i couldnt help but remind myself as comes it's reminders many days, i am not just the half of this operation, i am the whole of it. Most days, i manage to hide this anger from myself and plaster my walls with positive affirmations about how all of this independance has served me. Resilience they call it. You know.... what doesnt kill you makes you stronger. I don't deny the truth in these adages yet i will not attest that they make the walk any easier. But it remains interesting on how though the obstacles are great and the pain is fluid with the promise of gleaming treasure, i continue to attach my worth to it and make it about my unworthiness. My heart opened today. A whirlwind of beauty, joy and intensity among a streaking tornado backdrop. Although it's voice was rusty and it's tune was sad, my heart opened today and sang a song left unsung.