The Tale #29 - The First Day of Christmas
This was going to be scary. Christmas. I so didn’t want to have my family know about my condition, and I was terrified my “stuff’ would come up on Christmas eve and all of a sudden there would be a 6th child sitting at the Christmas Eve dinner table - BABY KEN. Yes, I can make light of all this now, but I was so damned scared, and I didn’t really know what it was deep inside me scaring me so badly. ….but he/she/it was one nasty mother-F-er.
I felt like a leper. I was diseased somehow. I was having this “energy imbalance” or “nervous breakdown” whatever you would like to call it, but it was odd, strange, weird, and if I talked about it, no one would understand…so it became THE TIGHT HIP again. That is what I would tell my family and friends if I was buckled over in pain and starting to shake. I would say that I have a tight hip.
I didn’t Christmas shop for I had no “significant other” and the only one I had to buy for was my mother and every year I gave her a hundred dollar Macy’s Gift Card so I was done, plus, wandering around crowded stores wasn’t good for my condition. It made me real paranoid.
Now paranoid is not me. That is not who I believed I was, but it was what I was experiencing at times, in restaurants or crowded places. All of a sudden, these places weren’t safe. I knew it was just old “stuff” coming out of my hips, but I honored it if I could. I wasn’t about to do anything to cause this “stuff” to come up. I’ve been there, done that and got the Yoga mat to prove it.
The Christmas season was suddenly cold, dark, lonely… and…
NO. I vowed to myself I would not go there. No matter what I would feel this holiday I would not believe the feelings. They were old and I knew they were old. And they weren’t real. And I was going to find some way to get through this, and once through, I would help other people get through.
And Oprah would help me do it.
That was my thinking. That was how I kept upbeat. This was my story, the unbelievable story of a lifetime, and I was in the middle of it, hoping to somehow get to the last page where everything is A O K and hunky-dory again.
Little did I know I was writing WAR AND PEACE.
But the task before me was Christmas. Thanksgiving had brought my “STUFF” back after I “Yogacized” it out of me with BABY KEN. Christmas could push me into the Abyss.
That place of no return.
Where the Dark Man wins,
…and the little lost child never stops crying.
“God rest ye, Merry Gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…”