The Habit of Pain

My temp assignment involves a lot of sitting and using a mouse, which produces significant physical stress and tension over time. To counter this, I've started stretching frequently -- which has led me to start to understand just how much *else* my body is carrying around.

I stretch and stretch, and the office tension eases -- but beneath it I can feel the energy of grief deep in my bones and muscles. On some level I'm profoundly curled in on myself, and I'm becoming aware of a thick shell of energy around me, protecting but isolating me from the energy of not-grief, which has been too painful to touch in anything more than small doses.

I need to un-clench, but the thought of allowing myself to open, to relax, to release, makes me recoil in fear of the pain that I expect to accompany it.

I'm afraid of the pain of releasing my pain. I'm afraid of what will come after. Who will I be without him *and* without the pain of his loss?

I don't want my pain to define me -- but I know that parts of me crossed that line long ago.

I have to let the scabs on my heart and soul fall away, even if I'm afraid that what lies beneath is too fragile to expose and will require me to accept a transformation I never sought.