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Smashing Little Boxes

March 7, 2011

So I have this confession to make…

I am a compartmentalizer….or at least I was.

I have always wanted, maybe even needed to have all the parts of my life clearly delineated, marked off and separated from one another.  I loathe(d) multiple-role relationships and have been so strict about stating what role I was acting from at any given moment and making very strong statements about when I was switching roles.  I have been extremely uncomfortable anytime those lines have gotten blurry.  In our home, we call these my little boxes.  As in, “I need to know which little box to look in to know what I’m supposed to do now” or “EEEKKKKKK….my boxes are crashing into one another and that feels really scary to me right now'”.  Sound a bit crazy? Perhaps…. I have been reassured by most of the shrinks that I’ve had that this is a very normal way of relating to the world for people with a history of trauma, though we certainly aren’t the only ones who have been known to relate that way.

And then I started really running down this crazy Path I’m on with my spirituality.  Slowly but surely, the little box that had “Spirituality” in it started oozing its way into every other little box.  I found that every piece of my life became filtered through that new lens of Goddess Awakening?Enlivening?Becoming?  Before I even knew what happened, the only people in my life were the ones that could tolerate this “out there” spirituality of mine.  My perceptions on nearly everything shifted and suddenly things made more sense to me.  I was ZINGED!!!!  WIDE AWAKE!!!!  GOING FULL BORE!!!

I remember laughing once, wondering out loud if there was anyplace left that I could go where I wasn’t just focused on my spirituality.  I went to my favorite little redneck cowboy diner for lunch.  I was sitting with my Beloved and it was so focused on her, on us…our time face to face then was so scarce that I wanted to do nothing but relish that time.  Anyway, we were just sitting and chatting, not about anything really crucial and an absolute stranger plopped down by our table and started asking for spiritual advice and some counsel about spellworkings.   Joke was surely on me but I certainly got the message..my spirituality was everywhere, and in a sense, everything. 

That’s about the time I started this blog.  I was certain that this could be my SPIRITUAL PLACE.  hmmm….had I already forgotten that EVERYWHERE is my spiritual place?  Anyway, I did my best to keep my posts relatively on topic, certain I suppose, that the blog police would ticket me if my SPIRITUAL PLACE was sullied by anything that wasn’t, well, SPIRITUAL.

So then my life got a lot more complicated.  I got fired by my teacher, fired a student, and turned my unhappy longterm dyadic marriage into a fairly happy, well functioning polyamorous relationship.  Then the time came to try out cohabitating, first in little visits, then visits of longer, then THE BIG MOVE.  My little family of 4(us Florida folks) plus -one (my across-state-lines Beloved) finally became a family of 5.   Job stuff, money stuff, sex stuff, relationship stuff..it seemed that the stuff was far outweighing the Spirit.  So I felt like I had nothing to say here.  Or maybe I felt like we were charting such a scary course that I couldn’t afford to hear any criticisms that might have come had I tried to keep speaking here.   However it happened, it seemed that the little box that this blog was in just wasn’t big enough to hold all that was happening.

I know, I know….I MADE the blog AND I made that box I was trying to cram it in so why didn’t I just smash it?  I’d like to find a handy little excuse.  Maybe on some level, so many boxes were being smashed all over the place that I just didn’t have the gumption to smash one more.  And maybe I forgot that sometimes the thing that I create for myself and call a little box is really just another cage.

In any case, when I found myself recently drowning and adrift, feeling that same old feeling of having surrendered the idea that I even HAVE a voice, much less stretching myself to use it, when I experienced myself as living nearly like an agoraphobe, experiencing myself as BEING trauma rather than someone who can thrive in spite of trauma, when I felt something sacred in me starting to die off, this was the place that I thought to come.  I spend days revisiting some of my old favorite blogs and hating that I was too….something…to even comment on those.  I wrestled with the idea that all my words were spent, no wisdom was left in me, that I had nothing to offer.  And then I decided to say all of that nothing anyway. 

But then I got trapped again in that same damn little box that snared me last time.  What if….what if nothing going on for me right now seems spiritual enough?  What if, when I allow my poly box to ooze into this little SPIRITUAL PLACE, I am perceived as being more concerned with my sex life than I am my spiritual life? (For the record, poly isn’t about the sex, but that’s a whole different post!) What if the people who have been able to relate to me as Goddess seeker can’t also relate to this piece of me?  What if I turn into one more person on a rant about sex and love and relationships?  And what about this whole new family dynamic?  Sure it’s okay to put that here when I’m all spiritual and grateful but what about days when I crave the quiet that is anathema to a teenage boy and I wonder if I really can do this mothering-of-a-grown-but-lost-boy?  And really, who the hell do I think I am anyway to be putting my voice out there??

That last one is the one that got me.  See, some days it feels like I’ve spent my life screaming to be heard only to find that I’d worn out my voice what with all the screaming.  And sometimes still I know that the “normal people” would just like to put a gag order on my whole love story.  And that is when I found the tears that led to the river that ran the woods where this a cottage that I live in.  My Self is there.  And she wants to be heard.  And I got it….my Truth is in the Love story.  Blissful, angry, screaming, terrified, yelling, laughing Love of Her….that Divine that is Momma to me.  And the amazing Love story with Her Beloved, my Papa.  That Love story IS my voice, my song, my dance, my cry.  I live it when I am so scared to death to even move from my bed.  I live it when I look at scars on my body, scars put there by the ones I should have been able to trust and I take a moment to forgive…myself.  I live it when I am cowering at my son’s angry voice that sounds so much like the Boogeyman and I live it when he rests next to me and finally sleeps.  I live it when I see my daughter cutting and KNOW that I can walk her through that experience, all the way out to the other side.  I live it when I have blissful moment, sandwiched between the two people in the world that know me best and I remember that they love me still, even now, even when I’m a mess.

So…this won’t be some scary poly blog, a rant on why my lovestyle should be accepted/honored/legalized.  It won’t be post after post about kids or families or sex.  It will be a chapter by chapter telling of the Love story that is my life.

And I have DAYS worth of posts just waiting to smash all the little boxes that make me less than all that I am.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. March 7, 2011 10:27 pm

    One of my favorite religious stories comes from Buddhism. A seeker asked the Buddha if he were the Messiah. “No,” the buddha said. “Then are you a prophet?” “No.” “Then what are you?” “Awake.”

    Awake is what I strive to be. I doubt I’ll ever be FULLY awake, but I like to think I’m just in that light zoned-out state, rather than asleep to the world, to myself, like I was before starting my path.

    You are going through several stages of awakening. It’s startling sometimes, but don’t let that cause you to drift back to sleep.

    • signmom permalink*
      March 7, 2011 11:18 pm

      I love you. I really do. Fabulousness!!

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