This week has been as hard as any in those first days, only without the anesthetic of shock. The air cooled and the sun came out and I found myself thinking, "I could just lay down on the driveway in the sun and not get up." I didn't, but I kept it as my mantra for a day or two. I could, if I needed to, choose that option. I won't pretend: I looked at that driveway for a long time, several times.
I also found myself tilting on the edge of my old anorexia. I was thinking I was fat (which I'm not) and that I would just stop eating. Directly on the heels of that thought came another. "Ah, I must be really stressed." Life feels like it is spinning out of control but, by God, I can control this...what I eat, if I eat. I have not heard that old anorexic voice in years and years. I made some lunch. And later sat down and made some choices about small steps I could take to try to bring some order into what felt so uncontrollable.
It has got me to thinking about what I leave behind. I am a leaver, it's easy for me to walk away, it's very difficult to stay. I have lived here longer than I ever lived anywhere as an adult. My relationship with David lasted longer than any I had ever been in. I have been in relationship with the farm family longer than I have almost any other friends. It's an uncomfortable place for a leaver to be and a small voice says, "see, see how hard this is? Let's just move on."
I used to think of this leaving as a positive thing. Deal with the issues, the addictions, the disorders, the pain, and move on. But we never really move on. They are a part of me. I feel myself circling back around to learn to embrace them and integrate them into the present me.
If nothing else my hope is that doing so will keep me from falling back into the hole that those things once were. If all things are touched by grace, perhaps doing so will enrich my life, who I am and what I have to offer others. I'm gonna work with the assumption of grace.