Change Is In The Air

by Kristin Morrison

in issue four
Scintillations
Purple Bikini
Saraswati
Change In Air
Sarah's Gift
Fairy Chimes
Real Dreams
Xena
Writer?
Younger Self
Fledgling Artiste
Goddess Poetry
No McD's In Cuba
AF Photographers
Goddess On Phone
Moody Girl
Met The Goddess
To My Mother
Life Changing Books
Girl Crushes
Universe Spoke
Visualize This!
Contributors

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future issues
Issue Five: Bravery
Issue Six: Friendship

previous issues
Issue One: Change
Issue Two: Balance
Issue Three: Spring

Change is in the air.  My fiancé has become withdrawn.  Trust has been broken, harsh words are uttered.  What once seemed so strong now crumbles in the wind.  The hardest part for me is that he has stopped calling me by my name.  Whenever he needs to get my attention or when he writes me a note before he leaves for work in the morning he now refers to me as "Hey you." This is the most upsetting part.  I am nameless in my own house.

I look around at the home that we have shared for so many years.  I can feel that love is no longer there.  It is as if a vacuum has lifted it up and away.  Where did it go?

Change is in the air.  And in my eyes.  My nose.  Most of all, my throat and lungs.  I am admitted to the emergency room.  I can barely breathe.  It is the beginning stages of bronchitis.  Never before have I felt this raw, this vulnerable.  Never again do I want to.  I've read that problems with the lungs indicate grief.  Uh, yeah, I would agree with that.

It is dawn a few days later.  I am unable to sleep.  Even though I can barely breathe, I drive to an ocean bluff not far from my house.  The drive is a blur but I feel this need, this intense desire to be near water that is alive.  Pounding surf and monstrous swells are what I need.  Perhaps it is because inside I feel so dead?  I do not see the beauty, only the raw life force that pounds against the rocks below me.  I smack my fists, hard, against the steering wheel and yell at the top of my lungs, "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!!!!!!!"  I truly expect a response after my tirade and I am shocked that I do not get one.  All is silent except for the water crashing against the rocks.  I am disappointed in God, in the Universe, for not answering me in my time of need.  I drive home.

Change is in the air.  I cry.  I cry out to God, to anyone that will listen to me.  Weekly, sometimes daily, I embarrass myself in front of others with my pain and my tears.  Because it hurts so much I do not care about my embarrassment.  I am able to rise above it.  How is it possible to feel so alone with my pain?

My therapist has me lie down on a yoga mat and tells me to breathe into my pain.  I do not want to do this.  I resist.  By making conversation with her, by chewing on my lip, by "going away" to exotic places where I would much rather be.  I realize I would much rather be laying on a beach at a remote Thai island than laying on a yoga mat breathing into my pain.  Haven't I suffered enough?  I consider canceling the session with Clare, my therapist, and scheduling a relaxing massage instead but my intuition tells me to stay. Damn!

Clare brings me gently back to the present moment.  Again she tells me to breathe into the pain.  I do and it is not comfortable.  She asks me what I feel underneath the pain and I tell her that I feel a deep sense of loneliness.  I feel the sense that I am alone with my pain and no one can help me.

"What is underneath the loneliness?" she asks after I have felt the loneliness for a few minutes.

"Sadness,"  I reply.  Ouch.  It hurts to feel this much sadness.  A sense of dread is underneath that.  Then fear.  Oh, God, I am afraid I cannot go on.  How much deeper do I have to go?  Again she pushes me further.

"And now what do you feel?" Clare asks.

I furrow my brow in puzzlement.  "Joy," I say.  Can this be true?

"Joy?" she asks.

"Yes," I say, amazed.  "I feel that underneath all of this crap that I am going through there is an intense joy for life.  A joy for myself, for all that I am, all that I will be, all that I encompass."

What a powerful feeling this joy is.  I can feel it cascading into every cell of my body.

Tears drift softly down my cheeks and collect in my ears.  It tickles.  I start to chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" Clare asks.

"The tears are making me laugh," I say.

Change is in the air.  Now I can feel the wind caressing all of my deepest fears as I lie on my back at the beach.  The sun is hot on my body and my forehead glistens with sweat.  I feel my heartbeat.  I am alone and I am alive.  I have a name.  My name is Kristin.