A break from sorting

As I sort through the papers and journals in the boxes in the garage, I see the beauty of the artwork I created – collages, painting, mixed media pieces – and the strength of the words I wrote.  I see the time and effort I put into assignments, journaling, and healing.

I spent time on Thursday and Friday dismantling old journals.  I have gathered pieces I may want to keep, remember, and share.  I’m recycling the rest.  And now, I’m taking a break from sorting for awhile – at least until I come back from visiting my fiancé.  So that gives me about a week and a half break, and I can reevaluate when I return.

Through this process, I’ve been feeling the weight of my experiences again.  As I went through one journal, I saw a page where I describe and list things that triggered me, and at least 2/3 of them are sensory-related, including florescent lights, loud noises, and crowds.  I wrote about feeling at times like things were “too much.”  What was really happening is right there on paper.

I went through another journal where my handwriting, which is usually loose and casual, goes into an illegible scrawl as I broke down and headed towards crisis.  As I remembered the pain, it was almost as though I was there again.

I’ve had to turn my mind and bring myself back here, to present day.  I am:  An aspiring Nia teacher.  Artist. Fiancée. Daughter.  Friend.  Living in a house in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  I have choice, passion, stability, and determination.

Releasing some of these old writings and items has been a relief.  I am sure it will be healing in the long run.  I will be glad to have more boxes emptied, fewer things to take with me when I move.  I do need to pace myself – this process is exposing, and I need to make sure that it isn’t too exposing. At the moment, I can feel I did too much.  I can feel more of how exhaustion, fear, and grief can take over my perspective of life at moments.

And so I take a break.  I take some deep breaths.  I breathe.  I move. I use skills.  I create more space for myself to feel and be.


One response to this post.

  1. I love you Jennie.


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