Trust, Wandering, and Friends, Mar 11

Dear Diary,

So yesterday, we discussed how I am learning to trust [Click here if ya missed it].

Trust, not newly found but newly recognized, gifts me immense confidence in navigating my life trajectory.

On telling one of my good friends I recognized the belief and trusted the feels, they said "f****** finally" then congratulated me on my hard work.

I have not known this particular friend for very long, but the moment we met, I knew I wanted to be in their atmosphere.

I couldn't articulate my experience, but something inside me sensed their wisdom, their love, and their presence. And I certainly did not understand their presence and my attraction to their atmosphere.

Though I was oblivious, it was pure magic. I can’t say I will ever understand the magic. Though, I recognize it in me.

What do I understand Diary? I felt comfort.

I never felt comfort before, Dairy.

I've felt secure, safe, warm, and accepted in various places at different times, but never experienced the sensation of comfort.

It's a dope sensation, Diary, like a numbing tingle of intense light that is flighty and grounded, heavy and light.

From the first weeks we began sharing space and time, I learned about magic and realized possibilities. Suddenly, my world, path, and life took on an entirely new direction.

Not that I ever really had direction, Diary.

I've always been pretty lost—wandering around until life became so unbearable that I tried to lose myself further and escape. Lacking direction, I have always been aware when new possibilities arise. I just did not entertain them as real options. Looking back at the last six months, even though I had chosen to start down a new path, it ran parallel to my old route, at least for a bit. So it really did not change a lot of things. It did not necessarily feel real.

The change that was present I totally fought unable to let myself go wandering my new path. I could not trust any of it.

Sometimes, I felt tortured to know where and how the divergent path ended. But all the while, I kept peering through the trees, trying to see if I could return to the path I had left.

Sometimes, I just sat down and gave up being overburdened by misery, sorrow, confusion, and grief.

My friend watched me struggle, and they waited with amazing patience and grace. They knew what I needed and neglected, but they allowed me to resist on the path until I recognized and trusted my light and capability.

They did never abandoned me. They comforted me at my worst, so many times they were there. And I made an impact on their life, too. They have their own path to tread, and there were times where our paths diverged.

Diary, those moments were the hardest. But the moments of feeling left behind were the most important, too. I realized I believed I could not continue moving along this new path in absence of my new friend.

It was unfair to them and to me.

So around the New year, I took account of myself. I went inside to reconnect with my emotional and physical systems through a lot of meditation and reading, my work supported by professional guidance from my therapist.

I re-engaged with my anxiety.

Thanked my fear.

Soothed my Hopes.

Appreciated my impulse.

I made space for my loneliness.

And tears flowed.

Then exhaustion came, and more tears came. The fatigue still weighs heavy. My eyes don’t well-up…as much.

Throughout this time, my trauma spiraled. It flung me into the past and future while I sat crying in the present.

I experienced future trips where the best and worst things collided in hazy fever dreams.

I felt confused. The confusion remains today. But my trust and the rest of myself are there to meander through the chaos and the depth of sorrow.

Even as I find my place in life, I will always wander, Dairy. I think it is my calling. Impulse and flexibility define my wandering abilities. For example, I totally meant to write something about the narratives we tell and the paths we take. I guess I did, but not in the way I had planned. It is all about the meander.

But wandering is different than being lost. Wandering is moving without a plan but equipped with an intention. Wondering is a commitment to presence. If I am too worried about ten steps behind or in front, I will stumble on the next step right in under me.

Wandering depends on my ability to observe, listen, and notice.

The foundation of wandering is trust.

Trust is about trusting trust.

Trust is the weirdest word ever.

It is also pretty cool, as is life.

More to come, promise