simmering thoughts

I am home.
My sleep patterns are still foreign, but I am moving closer to EST.

I downloaded over 1200 photos tonight.  Looking back at them, it was like watching a recap of a favorite movie.  The buildings, the food, the wearing of a new scarf, the steps, the train, the goddess sculptures, the landscapes, and the changing me.

I can see the softness come over my expressions over the first 2 weeks.  I see the smile pop up late in week 3.  I see the confidence and playful smirks in week 4.

It is after 2am and I am sitting on the couch wondering how I did it.  Did I really travel to Italy for a month?  I did.

I am tickled with what I have accomplished.  I have come home with more than a ton of photos and pretty Italian towels.  I came home full; Full of life,  full of beauty, full of respect for myself.

I do not know where the courage to take this trip came from. I spent months not letting myself think about it.  One statement echoed through my mind all the time, "I'm going to Italy".

I cry thinking about what I did.  I left my 2 sons, I left my home, I left all I knew because I had to break free.

I went far away to be able to get close to myself again, close to the tides of life, close to my heart which I couldn't hear anymore.

I had no agenda set for this trip, other than to show up.  There were times when I crashed and anxiety washed over me, there were times I didn't know what the hell I was doing there.  But I stayed, I showed up, I took one tiny step at a time, I took a breath, and walked over the known edge.  I fell, but there was no crash landing.  Instead I moved down, deeper into an abyss of sorts.  It was where I needed to go.  The landing was a soft one, but it was dark and I had to trust my instincts as my senses were of no use.

I wandered.  I told myself I could breath.  I reminded myself that in the moment, I was fine.

People talk about finding themselves, I don't know what most people do, but for me being in a strange land where hardly anyone spoke my language, living from my center, I heard myself.  I experienced myself.  I heard things that aren't true or things that I no longer believe.  I let them go.

I got lighter and lighter.  I cast them off as you would pull off a sweater or a pair of itchy socks.

Soon I was out of the tunnel and there was light.  My senses were of use again.

I walked up and down and I looked, just looked.  I beheld the beauty of life, even in its ugliness.

I have felt led from the beginning.  Maybe not led, but embraced.  I learned to be still and then go with the wind-like gentle energy without thinking it over.  I moved with it.  It felt comfortable, cozy and real.

I am heading back into this world tomorrow.  I am meeting a friend for lunch.  The changes and experiences I had go with me.  I am not going to announce all that happened, nor am I going to act like my old self.  I will be me, I stay open so I can feel the breezes, which move me.

It still feels surreal to me, even sitting here tonight does.

Am I back?  Yes and no.  I am here, but I left many things in Italy, across the ocean.  Things that no longer serve me or any healthy purpose.  I left my strict, cruel judge who was always telling me how fat and ugly I was.  I left behind the need to appreciated and liked by other people.  I left behind the sense of not belonging, of being a misfit.

When I left for Italy, I was a mother, first and foremost.  Now I am a human being, first and foremost.
I have been deeply moved by the hundreds of statues of women I saw, angels, goddesses, cherubs, etc.
I am part of a powerful and honored gender and I will no longer apologize for being a woman.  I also refuse to accept any blame for sin or for what men do.

What I found that was so special in me, I know exists in everyone.  I need to remind myself of that, especially when I am impatient.

We are all capable of incredible growth. Some of us get to do it and write about it.

I am home.  I am in known territory.  This is the beginning of something wonderful, something new, and I am prepared for the journey.