Glow

Around this time, for the past two years, I've experienced trauma. August and September, in many ways, have become months when the worst unexpected came true, bearing open my most vulnerable parts, and demanding courage and resilience that I didn't think was within me.

Trauma, like all things-that-happen, occur some Place--a physical location attached to the feelings.

I was very conscience of this Place, where last year's event happened. Often times, when I'm near this Place, I held my breath while I passed. Other times, I avoided it altogether. No matter what I choose, I am aware of this Place, reminded by the anxiety swimming in my stomach. I remember.

Tonight, as I sometimes do, I decided to pass this Place on my way home. I felt my feet slow from a city gait, to a southern slug, and then, they stopped. I stood in the exact spot that it all happened. Before, I didn't recognize the particular house it was near, or the split in the pavement--I just felt where it was in my heart, as if it was tied to an anchor and suddenly dropped into the center of the earth. I understood that it was here, where I was changed.

I stayed for a moment. I let the tidal wave of feelings wash over me: betrayal, anger, disbelief. The feelings was so palpable that I could taste them, and yet, the experience wasn't overwhelming. A breeze brushed my face. And almost as suddenly as I relived last year, I felt myself in the present. I smiled and I was OK.

While I still held feelings from before,  they were vague shadows of what they once were. I recognized that I had survived it. I thought, "could I be sure that this was the same place?" However, what I was really asking was "whether I was the same person who stood here before?"

And I am. I gave myself permission to recede into my surroundings, and reflect on exactly what allowed me to arrive at this moment feeling so strong. I understood that it was the tremendous quality of love in my life that beat back the haze of deep hurt from the past. Love saved me.

Love allowed me to ask and receive support from close friends for which I never believed brave enough to ask, or even rightfully deserved. Friends who generously offer their cars so that I can visit my parents; friends who run a distance races with me to support my personal goals, and then hike with me to re-visit my sacred, self-retreat spot; friends who apologize for being distant upon realizing that their resentful reaction to your happiness is wrong, and that it was on them to make amends.

Love allowed my family to show up during my hardest moments in surprising and unselfish ways; family who listened to private things of the kind I have never shared or believed that I didn't have the capacity to feel; family members who challenged their own confidence of their abilities to hold more and be more responsible for themselves, in light of witnessing my complete depletion. Family who reminds me that they love me everyday, and always have.

Love that returned me to the queer politics of love. A belief that inspiration and imagination are the only tools in our war arsenal; people who celebrate struggle, honor ancestors, and realize that lost campaigns can't take away laughter; communities who value the Beloved, practice integrity, and reject fear as reflex in which to live.

The promise of Love that inspired me to build the most loving romantic relationship that I've ever had with a partner who genuinely accepts all parts of me; a partner who asks to create trust with me everyday; a partner who possesses the kindest heart, held together by gentle bones, and holds me as carefully; a partner who is committed to transformation, dedicated to learning whether unconditional love exists and what it means, and who treasures working toward the hard parts of love, as much as the easy parts, because the reward of each other is so valuable.

The memory of Love let me surrender to the Ultimate Love. A deep, inevitable Love that gave me insight when I could barely open my eyes; trust when I didn't believe; and instill hope when I was drowning in my own morass. I followed goodness when doing so felt almost foolish.

A year later, there's no doubt that I've arrived and stayed in that Place because of Love. Thank you to all who made that Place more like any other, and a Place of my own power.