home.

a song to set the scene // jessica’s theme by bruce rowland

“Are you okay Elan?”

I paused.

Normally, this kind query doesn’t come as a surprise. The amount of times I have been asked this question supersedes them all, but on this particular occasion, I was confused.

“You seem… off. Low. Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah…” I replied, hesitant. “I think so?”

I checked in with myself: was I okay?

Let’s see: nothing bad had happened recently. Aside from the usual stresses of life, nothing felt out of the ordinary.

In fact, if anything, I felt I was having a rather thoughtful week.

And so, despite the fact that nothing was wrong, and all was okay, I thanked her nonetheless for noticing me and caring.

Because damn it feels good to be noticed.

Curious, I then asked myself: what change had she seen within me?

If nothing was wrong, and all was okay, then why the appearance of seeming different than my usual self?

Thinking back to this thoughtful week I was having, I started to wonder if seeming “off” was simply… change.

For the first time, in a long time, I’ve been feeling present and particularly sensitive to life around me. Attuned to the world, I’ve felt really touched by this majesty we get to call living.

I’ve been feeling the raindrops on my face like I had never felt before.

I can smell the lilacs blooming outside my window with such ferocious intensity and vigor, I’ve been putting a vase of them by my bed, drinking in their scent like liquor.

Instead of taking the burden of others and making it my own, I’ve been turning towards those in pain, offering love and support for them, despite the weight.

And recently, my gem has caught me staring longingly at my cats, as I marvel at how much they make my heart blossom with love and adoration.

I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’ve been feeling so alive lately.

For the last many years, I’ve not felt this way.

Feeling disjointed, like pieces of a puzzle not fitting together on the table, it’s as if mind, body, and spirit were three separate people living in the same place.

Struggling to love and accept any and all parts of me, I’ve not been myself in so long.

As of late though, I’ve started to embrace her miracles. It’s as if these puzzle pieces now fit together as one, making one magnificent puzzle that’s simply put: me.

All living under the same roof I get to call home.

I think for awhile, I believed that finding myself meant looking out there.

In reality, finding myself meant embracing that everything I ever needed already existed in here, within me.

And for the first time, maybe ever, I’m finally pausing, slowing down, and embracing all of who I am, just as I am.

I was telling my counselor all of this the other day, after he too asked me if I was okay, and he quoted something I find particularly fitting:

We’re all just walking each other home.

And it’s so true.

We’re all on this journey of finding wholeness within ourselves, of embracing who we are at our core and living our lives upon that foundation.

Our voyages may be wrought with delay and alternate routes, but that’s what makes coming home feel so good.

So I thank this girl for noticing me, because it made me notice me, and this beautiful change I’m going through.

So yes, I am okay, thank you for asking.

Why?

Because finally

i

am

home.

heavy, yet healing.

a song to set the scene // lost time by javi lobe

“How are you feeling?” my brother asked.

Pausing, I checked in with myself.

“I’m doing okie,” I replied honestly. “It’s been a week.”

He nodded, understanding. “I feel like the family needs to disconnect with the world for a week,” he added.

I smiled.

He was so right. I couldn’t have agreed more.

It has truly been just one of those weeks.

And yet I’m here, despite it all.

Our story begins at brunch, on a road trip.

We had just paid our bill when all of a sudden, a man walked around the corner of the bar. White as a sheet, he stopped, staring, before falling like a tree.

WHAM.

He hits the ground.

Within seconds, everyone in the restaurant moved to his side. His wife, hysterical, came rushing over, calling his name.

Unconcious, he laid there.

Did I just witness someone have a heart attack? A seizure? Is this man okay?

As luck would have it, a nurse happened to be one of the few guests in the restaurant. Rushing to his side, she moved him onto his back.

His eyes soon fluttered open.

But his face.

I’ll never forget that face.

A single trail of blood gushed from his eye, and the nurse informed him that he had a pretty significant laceration across his cheek, which I saw.

Stricken, I continued to look at him nonetheless, only to see that his chin had also split.

I had never seen anything like it.

As everyone around me dialed 911, the nurse calmly told him that he had fallen down, but that he was alright.

Looking up at me, he spoke: “Is that why everyone is staring at me?”

Relief flooding through me, I smiled, and let out a sigh of relief. He was going to be okay.

All of a sudden, the frenzied wife looked up at me.

“Are you fu***** laughing? This is not funny. My husband is lying on the floor and you’re fu***** LAUGHING?!”

Mortified, I stammered. “No no, I would never, I… No, I wasn’t…”

“What the he** is wrong with you?” she cried.

Mouth agape, I froze, petrified.

“Everybody processes trauma differently,” the nurse calmly told her.

No. I mean yes, but no. I would never laugh at somebody in pain.

I was now in shock.

Tears started to prick at the corners of my eyes, and I looked to my gem.

“I need to get out of here. Now.”

Trapped, I felt a feeling I had never felt before in my body.

Like someone wringing out my insides like a wet towel, my lips started quivering and my breathing turned rapid.

Get me out of here. Now.

Driving back to where we had stayed the night, I heard attempted words of comfort from those around me, like dull noise.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t directed at you. The wife was traumatized, took it out on you. Wrong place, wrong time.”

All just dull noise.

Because these things I knew. But my body: my panic ridden body, was currently processing trauma. And what I needed was support. Love. Comfort. Touch.

Back at the house, I wept with my gem.

Body heaving, I bawled, feeling this scar forming inside of me.

What had I just seen? What had I just done? I had never felt so misunderstood. I could never laugh at someone in that situation.

So my gem held me as I sobbed into his shoulder.

Feel this. Your gem’s arms around you: supporting, loving, comforting, and touching you.

It was such a healing moment for me.

Unfortunately, my processing wasn’t done in what’s considered a “timely manner.”

To the rest of those around me, I had overstayed the amount of time it takes for someone to get over it or move on.

And now my grief, my own personal traumatic experience, felt… rushed.

Never mind what you just went through. We’ve been delayed, and now it’s because of you.

Sensing the impatience around me, I did what I could to lighten the mood, for the air of the others had shifted onto frustration.

I imagined them thinking: there she goes again, having this big moment, ruining it for the rest of us.

In a previous life (IE less than six months ago), I would’ve handled this very differently. I would’ve taken that judgement, that frustration from others, and amplified it within. Hating, blaming, and deeming myself the biggest dissapointment.

I struggle to articulate how this happened, but instead of doing just that, I turned towards the others instead, who were clearly not ok.

I didn’t know the circumstances of what brought them to feel bitter, but I could tell the weren’t doing ok and whether or not it was because of me, I nonetheless bravely faced them.

Still feeling the enormity of what I had just experienced, there somehow lied within me compassion and caring for how the others were feeling, and so I asked them: Are you ok?

How I was able to sit with the still fresh wound of what had happened at brunch and be there emotionally for others can only be described as growth.

And though heavy, I felt I was healing.

Then two days later, a construction worker cussed out my mom as I sat in the backseat.

Two days after that, I dealt with one of the worst behaved guests at work.

And in the same week, my sister and I were yelled at for riding our bikes on the road.

I listened to a fitting meditation in the midst of this somewhat hellish week. In it is quoted this:

We have little power to choose what happens, but we have complete power over how we respond.

Time has passed since these rather scarring events, and though not much time, I feel this pain within me alleviating.

How do you feel? I now ask myself.

Despite it all, I’m still here.

Heavy, yet healing.