grow into yr body happily
I mentioned offhand that the scarf I am knitting has 60 stitches and a few days later I was knitting while we were watching movies and I stopped to double-check, counting every single stitch, and when I got to the end he asked, “Do you still have 60?” and I was actually struck speechless for a moment as I remembered what it felt like to have attention paid, to have seemingly inconsequential details remembered.
I keep saying it’s like that one time I received a real professional massage and when it was over I thought, “oh, is this what my body is supposed to feel like?” I didn’t realize I was carrying around so much pain and strain and tension until it was all lifted away…
But I am sure to maintain a constant awareness, remembering how I was so used to remembering things for a person with no memory, how I got used to excusing it, how I settled for it and internalized it into a fault of my own: I am not interesting, I am not worthy of taking up space in his thoughts, that’s all.
Because really, while I am head-over-heels impressed by the ability to remember and listen, by the capacity for kindness and consideration, and by the comfort of easy conversations as well as silences — I think that my attention to these details signifies the extent of my previous trauma far more than it speaks to a man’s “goodness.” After all, he is not going over and above any expectations; he’s just doing what a friend would do. I just got things like “friend” and “love” tangled up with fear and anxiety… to the point where I spit, I don’t believe in love, but actually I think I just don’t know what love means anymore.
I told my Mom I was going back to work and I was worried I’d forget all my job-related skills since I’ve been away for two months. She said probably typing shorthand is like riding a bike, no pun intended, she said. She said it’s probably like when she sits down at the piano and everything comes back to her; it’s muscle memory, it’s like music, it’s like learning to walk again, and learning to be a person, and maybe I’m stretching the metaphor too far but maybe it’s like learning to accept love. Tentatively, tenderly, tendons…
![You guys, I just had the most Athens day of my entire life. First I traded one of my photographs to the amazing Liz for a haircut. Then I got four new dresses at a boutique because the shop owner is my neighbor and gave me some store credit since she accidentally adopted one of my runaway kittens. Then I saw Ken (BAMF) Freeman who offered to give me a boatload of cat food in exchange for some posters and printing paper. I (finally) visited Avid bookstore to (finally) buy “Beauty Tips for the Bitter Girl” but they were sold out (due to awesome) and also the clerk said I could bring some of my own zines in for them to carry. Then C. & I stopped at the Co-Op and got a delicious ~organic/vegan~ lunch thanks to his food stamps; also Adam was there which was nice because I haven’t seen him in months. Then I came home to the most unconditionally loving, affectionate kitten in the history of time ever [photo by C.]. Okay, I think I still like living here, sometimes.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/b9a1632fc5c7714c888039b456401654/tumblr_meqktmakx81qac9ivo1_500.jpg)
