Chernobyl

I feel like my head has been wrapped in plastic these past few days. My roommate has been out of town, so the time and space alone to BE has been deafening. Things rising from the ether. Lessons, and voices and messages I can’t ignore are shining their flashlights into the recesses of my mind and knocking very, very loudly at the door.

Vibration higher, muddle and clutter unsettled.

He’s back now, and I realize the reason this living situation hasn't worked out is because he is a mirror for all the failures in my life since I moved here. I rode in on a triumphant wave of righteous and false prosperity, not believing I deserved it and then proving myself right. Losing it all.

Now I am defeated, too many risks resulting in too many failures, all proving what I must believe to be true about myself at a subconscious level. And just being so sick of the patterns!

I’m missing the point, I know.

For me it’s about first acknowledging what must be true in order to then clear the pattern.

It’s like Chernobyl around here.

That plastic bag feeling is actually fallout. Fallout from nuclear disaster.

Like I was put through the meat grinder and now I’m trying to reassemble the pieces back together to form a whole me.

Ground Karen chuck.

I’m trying to take the ground minced parts of my triumphant and glorious past and make myself whole again.

You always see those pictures of the atomic bomb that they show on the History channel. Black and white, slow motion, deafening silence. And complete annihilation.

That black and white, slow motion, deafening silence? That’s what my life feels like right now.

How do I rebuild? In the wake of such destruction, self-imposed, well-intentioned? Where do I start?

I’m feeling uprooted, directionless, and my overriding feeling: stunned.

I am stunned to be here.

Yet. again.