Put to Rest

This is a follow up from yesterday. Basically continuing in the same stream. We're going to get into some childhood wounding, I think. And more processing. Good to air all this out.

I woke up this morning at 5 am as if for work, and did my usual habit of pressing "snooze" on my alarm at least 6 times. You'd wonder why I even have an alarm if I insist on ignoring it for a solid hour. Maybe it's some kind of ritualistic resistance to time and schedules. Every tap of the snooze button says, "Take that clock! And that!"

Anyway, I'm making light of what's actually very heavy. I do that a lot, I realize. I make light of things that actually are emotionally crushing just so nobody sees me on my back flailing for purchase like a flipped over turtle. Fact is, I generally don't trust anyone to find me flipped over on my back and do the kind thing of flipping me back over. I expect others to come over and kick me so I spin around and get confused. Then laugh as I continue to flail about. I expect that, because many people have done just that. Or they've just ignored my flailing and left me to my own devices. Which is fair of strangers. Not fair at all when it's family growing up.

Specifically, I trust 'Yanna and Seraphel to be kind. They would flip me over and help me keep going. They'd even stop their car, get out, pick me up off the road, and put me on the opposite side just so I'm safe from danger I can't even perceive. Because they're just amazing people like that. Which is funny, because they would probably say, "We are all like this here." And likely feel astonished that my automatic, and quite wounded, assumption is that the world is full of people who don't care.

Well, my childhood was full of people who didn't care. So, that's where that comes from.

Sometimes, when I'm working on healing myself, I take on way too much responsibility. I have to remind myself when it comes to inner child healing that many of these negative and traumatic experiences as a child happened as a child. I am not supposed to take responsibility at that age. What happened to me is not at all my fault and the fault of the grown ups around me, who liked to make it my fault, because they're a bunch of weak adults. They loved to say how wise I was for my age. How like a little adult I was. Because that meant they could dump responsibility on me.

I was a child. I don't care if I'm some magical being that is a nexus point and can access so much at will. My incarnated self was a child and deserved to be cared for and perceived as such. But it wasn't. And that caused a great deal of damage. I say this all as a warning to you out there reading this, who know of beings that are overly wise beyond their years yet are bodily children. They are still children. End of story. Do not make the error of assuming they are adults.

Right, back to our story for today. Though this is all pertinent.

I got up, turned on the work computer, hung around long enough for the morning staff meeting, and then told them what happened and what I needed to do. Breakfast was handled by the bakery connected to the building, as I just didn't feel like bothering with cooking. Then I got everything ready to go.

The box barely fit in the dry bag. I had to take a backpack to carry the trowel, surgical gloves, and utility knife (to break down the box afterward). I got everything into the Jeep and headed to the lake. There's a spot I discovered back in May, on my birthday, that is out of the way of all trails and a place so secluded I could be naked if I wanted. That's how out of view. It was there that I headed first.

It took me longer than usual to get there due to all the freshly fallen leaves obscuring the deer trails carved into the hillside. They make walking a tad easier, though they are quite narrow. So, I found myself stepping in holes filled with leaves, and that made getting out there difficult. But I made it, and as I approached the destination point, I noticed a deep hole created by a fallen tree. I thought that would be handy to use.

"Go to the spot first. Then turn back," says my soul to me.

So, I go to where I once hung my hammock and find one of the trees has fallen. I suppose I won't be coming back here, then. I turn around, trying to find that same hole and instead find a mound of grass that looks a little inexplicably placed. There's a hole that's filled with leaves going into the side of the mound.

"Here."

I take out the trowel and start clearing away the leaves. It's an old groundhog burrow. There's nobody inside it and no sign of anything having used it in a very long time. The roots of whatever tree used to be there create a frame for the burrow. It is exactly the size of a cat as well. When I go to excavate it a little more to make it flatter on the bottom, the soil comes up soft and clumpy. Black with a little clay in it. Which is what I kept seeing in my head, though I didn't see the hole.

It is, in other words, easy to shape and work with. Most of the work is already done. It's better than I hoped for.

When the site is ready, I take my surgical gloves out, put them on, and use the utility knife to slice through the tape on the box. Tilly looks like she's sleeping, but she is unquestionably gone. She hardly weighs anything as I pick her up and gently lay her inside the burrow. I toss in the two crystal pieces, and cover the grave with soil and leaves, packing everything around her body nice and tightly.

"Goodbye, Tilly. This is a nice place. I know you don't like outside much, but you'd like this place if you did. I may not come back here. I'm sorry."

I feel Tilly's spirit is nearby. She says, "Oh, it doesn't matter. It's only my body. Don't worry about it. Thank you for bringing it here."

Then, I take the gloves off and put them in a plastic grocery bag I brought with me. I put the towel I wrapped her in with the bag as well. I break down the box, fold it as flat as I can, and all of this goes into the backpack. Along with the trowel in a separate bag to keep dirt contained. The dry bag I close as best I can so I can carry it.

I stand there for a while, looking at the burial site and the lake behind it. There's a breeze playing about. It's cloudy and the lake looks like a deep blue-green this time of year. Finally, after a few minutes I turn to make my way back.

This whole time I do this, I don't really feel like crying. I just feel hollow. I tell 'Yanna this when she asks how I'm doing as I'm leaving. She's very good at checking in on me. I like this about her. I like that she asks me questions about anything and everything, too. Therefore, I feel I should be honest with her as best as I can be. Even when it scares me a little to tell her exactly what I'm thinking or feeling. Because she's the type of person who would turn me over when I'm flailing around helpless instead of kicking me and laughing.

These are simple things I did not get much this life. Sometimes it was because I pushed people away when they'd want to check in. Other times it was because no one around me felt like they needed to check in. Because they think I can handle it.

Well, I can, but does that mean I want to do everything alone all the time? Just because I can handle something by myself doesn't mean I want to do it by myself.

The path is easier back to the Jeep. Somehow, facing the opposite direction, I can see the old deer trails again and I make it back to the regular trail much faster. As I'm leaving the park and driving away, something falls behind me. In my head, I see like a fat, large, silver coin being lobbed at my noggin. I tell whomever it is that threw that that I'm driving and I can't look at what it was. But I don't think that's the point. The point is, "HEY! We're right here!"

Meaning, I'm pushing people away again without meaning to. I don't know how I'll stop doing this.

Anyway, by the time I get somewhere to stop and look, I see it's a bolt and a washer from the frame of the Jeep on the passenger side. A bolt that was not loose. Someone (Yazhi) sat there and slowly unscrewed that thing just to lob it at the back of my seat. Well, thank you for not hitting my head!

So if anyone was wondering where the munchkin is, she's here sometimes. Where else, I do not know.

The tears finally came a couple of paragraphs back as I was writing them. I feel very wretched right now. I would very much like to never go to my day job again. That just crossed my mind just now.

I guess to close this out. Tilly represented the doubts and insecurities I had--those that came to a boil on the Solstice. With her passes those doubts and insecurities--at least energetically. It may take a moment or two to catch everything up mentally. She also represented the previous chapter. The last bit of the previous chapter. I am now reset back to where I was before the "marriage that shouldn't have happened".

Let's see what happens next. As for today, I think I'll maybe cry a little more off and on and do nothing strenuous.

I love you. I thank you for your time. Adiamas.

--Kyriel