…no more Bible, I will travel…

Today, is melancholy. Today, I am Coltrane – Kind of Blue, Blue Train, Blue Note. I’m wondering who they are, and how they do? And as the clouds roll in and winds howl & it feels like rain…I think about other things. Things best left untouched.

My month’s supply of meds (one of them) is $692. Hormone Replacement Therapy. I am 30, post-hysterectomy. unemployed, still on restriction, and waiting for Cobra to kick in. My savings are dwindling, I cannot work.

I am more terrified than I have ever been – even after the diagnoses. Either time.

Once again, I am absorbed in David Whyte. I am not interested if there is one god or many gods. I don’t know if I belong or feel abandoned. I keep examining these themes, because this time is the time.

Can I know despair or see it in others? Am I prepared to live in this world with its harsh need to change me?

Can I look back with firm eyes saying This is where I stand? Do I know how to melt in the fierce heat of living, falling towards the center of my longing? Am I prepared to live day by day with the consequence of love? With the bitter, unwanted passion of my sure defeat?

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even the gods speak of god.

This is my time – to make friends with the unknown. To remember everything that my psychic and my spiritual advisors and teachers have told me. To heal, even if the healing feels as if it is what is going to kill me (and that intuition is almost correct).

And yet, I find myself recoiling from it. From what I had learned, what I had known. The lessons that came through physical suffering and hardship, which caused transition periods that, opened me up to learning. I was ready for something different because nothing else worked. I was desperate, and in that desperation, I found my healing place. I don’t want to let go of that because I am in despair.

My psychic told me that it would take me longer to heal. That it would seem that I was healing well but that I would really take much longer. That I needed to learn patience. A reliance on the universe.

Most of what I know but am scared to admit is that I *don’t know* how to melt in the fierce heat of living, falling towards the center of my longing. That I am not yet prepared to live day by day with the bitter, unwanted passion of my sure defeat.

I know that I am okay now, with the world building me a home bigger than any that I can ever build myself. I am a nomad. A traveler. But it seems that the journey that I am struggling with is the spiritual one.

Like David again, I am thinking of faith now. And the testament of loneliness. And what I think I am worthy of in this world. Sometimes it takes darkness, and the sweet confinement of my aloneness, to learn that anything and anyone that does not bring me alive is too small for me.

I want to get back to where I was…spiritually. And physically, before disease and multiple surgeries and years of treatments and chemicals and medications. I want to find peace within my struggle. I want to find a place of comfort, where I am prepared to live in this world, despite its harsh need to change me, despite disease and castration and HRT and a future that includes monthly visits to my pain management team where yours has Menstruation.

I want to know …This is Where I Stand. If I belong or feel abandoned. I want to know me. I haven’t known me for a very long time. But, I am prepared to embark upon the journey to find me, through the layers of hormones and drugs and diseases and struggles that I have been buried beneath. And, I am ready to embark upon journeys of another kind again as well…

I am Angie. I am 30, and right now, I am in Los(t) Angeles…

…no more Bible, I will travel.

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