Right now I’m feeling like I’m worth it. It’s an unusual feeling for me. Do you?
The word pruning comes to mind. Like every element of my life from nostril hair to unneeded stress needs to go…so I can breathe.
I just keep taking away. Loss is natural, loss is lightening, loss is good pain. Exposing myself to loss: consciously, carefully, judiciously is my new MO.
So I set distance depending on my gut or my reaction. This, I want to come closer, this I need to move away.
This is dying, decrepid; this hurts and refuses to stop despite my repetitive protestations.
This seems to bring out puss, I didn’t even know I had, I feel smaller and stupider than ever before.
This remembers me when I forget: cares, embraces when I didn’t know I needed it. Sees the good in me that no one told me about.
I study myself like an intrepid anthropologist.
Pruning, re soiling are just what I do so I can flourish throughout the torment.