These words are mine made of me.
They owe no one. They have heartbeats.
Yours do too. Listen. They have cells.
Paragraphs are body parts.
Words Live
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On Kindness
As I work to battle my way out of this isolation one thing I am sure of is this; the human experience, your experience, deserves kindness, and safety.
Some hear or read the words, be kind, and feel as if being kind would be, in some way, weakness. Here’s the reality that pulverizes this honestly felt but misguided experience. If being kind is an act of weakness, then why is it so hard for so many to do? That’s a fair question. Answer? Because being kind is not an act of weakness is exactly why it takes strength.
My Isolation
I have been living pretty much in isolation for almost five years now. It’s grueling. Agoraphobia is no-nonsense and predatory. When it’s fueled by trauma and a brain injury – neither one being a static reality – it can be disabling. Being held up and shot in the head in 1984 is the primary antecedent to all this.
There is no poor-me in any of this. I accept that. If knowledge can be tattooed into one’s being, I know acceptance is the one step that must be taken if there is to be any real, healthy healing.
Acceptance is not total surrender. You surrender to the reality you are in. You don’t surrender your ability – and right – to be the honest manager of your own life.
However – if I don’t accept the full reality of the challenge I’m facing, my ability to manage it in a healthy way is non-existent. There is nothing unique about me in this; not even a little.
The role the agoraphobia (I call it, fear) plays now is more expansive than it’s been for more than 30 years. I leave the house only to take my dog out and, as infrequently as I can manage, go to the supermarket.
And then, there is this.
– Answering the phone is usually impossible.
– Opening and or sending an email can be a steep climb.
– Listening to a message can take days, if ever.
– If there is a knock on my front door, I freeze and can’t answer.
– Some close friends from over the years have reached out. More often than not, I can’t get myself to respond.
The to do things for me include this, simply setting down my current reality, put it in the open. Tell on myself. I hope to meet with my doctor tomorrow morning. It is in-person and I will have to leave here. I’ll write more about this, perhaps.
Fiction Nugget: Marty’s Mood
Marty was in a mood again. Sitting behind the wheel of his 2006 Corolla, he waited on the red light at Murphy and Main that morning. Out loud, he professed his current moment to no one in particular.
“What do I see before me now in the hazy haze of morning light, or, could it be late in the day? Does it truly matter, I ask you?”
Here, Marty inhaled deeply and loudly, held his breath, cheeks puffed out. After a couple of seconds, he let his breath out in a whoosh as the light turned green:
“I am a slug as much as I am the quick-witted, silver-tongued boy, raised in Satin, New York — where everyone is smooth and easy. Where the ladies like their silk and the men like their leather.and everyone likes to say, smooooth!”
An Intimacy Sanctuary
If I ever find myself in love and in a relationship with a woman again, a rarely talked about form of intimacy must live there too.
Being able to be yourself safely with another human is one of intimacy’s greatest sanctuaries. In this sanctuary the most wondrous and healthiest forms of physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and creative intimacy thrive.
Knowing you are universally safe with the other person must be a reality shared by both. Two salient principles must be present. Be open to the possibility of intimacy, and never surrender who you are.
Peter S. Kahrmann - Est. 1953 