We went to meeting.
I am a fidgetty person, mentally and physically. I’m the one biting my nails, and making lists if you force me to wait without a book or my knitting.
Relaxing enough to just sit and be took conscious effort to begin.
I use activity to try to still my thoughts: I walk, swim, sing, play the clarinet (badly!)
Breathe deeply. Feel your rhythm.
I was distracted by what I could see- in the room, and out through the windows. Closing my eyes in a roomful of strangers felt too vulnerable.
Trust. You are safe.
My mind didn’t empty, but the whirling slowed. There were patterns, connections.
(Sitting still in the car was hard; I drew diagrams on the back of my knitting pattern. I think there’s a creative piece in that scribble, but I don’t yet know what medium.)
I don’t know where the rest of that hour went. Resurfacing was every bit as hard as the centring down had been in the first place. I needed that hug from Dawn.
Reach out. You are not alone.
A thought entered my mind, and hasn’t quite left:
It’s easy enough to hold the abused in the light, but maybe the real test is whether you can hold the abuser there too?