Wound care

by arianne

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{…continued from yesterday’s post}

Strong emotions of any kind seem to spurn from the same place.  Passion.  That passion I felt with “my people”, also brought up my passion for missing Mabel.  I tried to ride those waves as best I could, but at times the waves seemed unbearable.  I worked to be real with myself and allow myself moments of grief.  Grief didn’t go away just because I was at a conference.

But I was warm.  So warm I was encased in this love of a tribe who knew and loved and let me be me. They let me float around and come and go and disappear and reappear and knew I was following what I needed.  They knew I had their warm strumming going on in my heart still, keeping me tethered to the moment.  I so badly wanted to be in the moment with them.

Friday night I found my way to the {in}courage party.  I met Hillary and talked all night.  I got to hug on Holley and Stephanie from {in}courage and look in their eyes and just know.  That we are sisters in the same Body, that they loved me and that we could just be.  I left late that night with goodies in hand and new, unbreakable, heart strings forged.  Warm again, sparks of joy in my deepest soul.

But the next day (Saturday) would be the epitome of those high and low passions converging, the day I felt myself pushed up against an emotional wall and the day that I broke through that wall and came out on the other side ok. Maybe even better than ok.

It was a day of disappointing other people, of hearing one too many sad stories way too close to home, and of laying around in my jammies with pizza and popcorn while letting myself laugh at girlfriends doing karaoke until my sides ached.  It was a day of dancing, of Ivy holding and Olive snuggling and of watching Barbara do cartwheels across the stage.  All of this was topped off with a special night in a circle lovely amazing women all looking into each others’ eyes, knowing and loving and talking about our favorite parts of Blissdom.  And, my personal Yoda even called me “brilliant“.4346574569_fcedaf5264

By the time I had finished out the weekend, I had this symphony of heart strings going so in sync that I finally felt like it was a good thing I had gone on this trip.  I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was being cared for.

Like wounds that need re-dressing, scrubbing — and Lord how that hurts — my own wounds needed a good girlfriend cleaning. I feel raw and scraped and yes I am still hurting, but I know that I’m growing new skin, too. New skin, for this new me.

The aches now feel like braver aches.  The warm strumming is still very much there, my tribe inspired me in so many ways that they really have no idea.  I came home and organized the fridge and pantry for one — a minor miracle right now, trust me.  I feel renewed in homeschooling and in homekeeping and in me-keeping.  I feel fresh.

I went on this trip not knowing why, just that I felt called to be there.  I hoped maybe my story and my presence would help someone. I had no idea I would be the one helped.  The one who’s wounds were cared for.  The one who’d begin to heal.

Thank you again to all the women who cared for my heart.  I love you.

{top photo by Dawn from My Home Sweet Home features @pensieverobin, @amberrunsamuck and @SaraSophia, bottom photo is me by my boo Secret Agent Mama}

{p.s. I have more posts on this topic, including more about that special last night, and about our amazing Writer’s Craft workshop.  There’s more linky love to share, y’all}

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