It snowed a little. The snow brings back body memories and feelings just below the surface. Memories no one can quite see or know, yet we can feel them and taste them.
The bingers want to eat them away. The purgers want to purge them out. The restricters stand ready. The rest of us sigh and get ready to stand strong and patient as we remember that recovery isnt linear, isn’t easy, and is a dance. A dance with time. A dance with memories. A dance with each other.
Dance with us. Dance the dance of memories. Spin in circles with us as we find that balance of beautiful surrender and careful control. Hold our hands as we whirl with the chaos and pray the boundaries that have been set in place hold. Dance the dance of recovery with us, and watch as we test and trust that the world we know won’t crash down around us.
The memories overwhelming. The boundaries will hold. The safety will hold. We trust it. We are all in big trouble if they don’t.
Dance with us. Spin with us. Whirl with us. The chaos is beautiful. The recovery is enticing. Grab on and together we won’t let go.”
Last night before bed, like 10 minutes before I was heading to bed, we started to talk. Well, Layna did. She talked to Mom about our ideas and how we latch on to an idea and it becomes almost an obsession. The ideas almost aren’t even ideas but compulsions. Like the absolute greatest thing to ever come to mind. And we take those ideas and run with them. They start to take on a being of their own, almost. They become a storm of emotion, ideas, and purpose. We start to feed off of the energy of the whirlwind and we feel good, happy, productive, and alive. We feel real and good about ourselves. We feel useful and strong. Healthy, and hopeful about our future. The energy spins and becomes a dance of complete chaos.
Until we stop. Until the switch flips and the dance is over. Until the chaos lets go and the sails deflate and the momentum is over. We drop to the floor like marionette dolls with their strings cut, feeling defeated. Failures. We didn’t complete the dance, we didn’t solve the problem, finish the project, heal the people, save the world. We’ve just exhausted ourselves and whirled in circles.
It’s a cycle that doesn’t ever stop. It’s very predictable. The system roles rarely change and we always find that food control is a large part of how we manage it. The ideas change and we always tell each other that we won’t let it happen the same way. That we will recognize it, and slow down. We never do, though. We’re always afraid of missing the big idea for our life. That ONE idea that will lead us where we need to be, want to be, HAVE to be right now. That path that will make us productive, worthy of life, or something. Who knows. It’s almost like on some level we need that drive. That chaos. It gives us a purpose, even if it’s a short-lived purpose.
At this very moment, I’m completely focused on the fact that this is a very comma heavy post and we really don’t feel well. That’s not where I want my focus and it’s making me sad. The dance has slowed down inside. The thoughts aren’t quite so chaotic, but I still can’t catch them. I know what we want to do, mostly. I know what we need to do. And yet very little of it actually makes any sense today. The dance of chaos is winding down again. I feel listless and useless. I’m disappointed in myself for riding the waves of chaos and yet I miss it.
I miss the dance of chaos and find myself waiting for the next cycle.