From Here Category: General   Apr 10th 2018  02:00PM   0

This will likely be my second to last post. After blogging here for close to seven years—from my early-40s through half of my 50th year—I feel I've come full circle...that this particular arc has just about touched down. Plus, I have two other blogs to keep up now: one for my day job, and another chronicling my writing career.

I am spread thin, to say the least, but more than that, I've explored this professional companion journey as much as makes sense for a public diary. With luck, I'll find time to write a book about it soon, with a more focused, detailed storyline to fill in the gaps of this sporadically journaled one. Till then, I'm still juggling three live chainsaws of day job clients, book promotion, and occasional companionship dates. (As far as that goes, I expect to be available through this year and maybe into next...though honestly, I just can't say. Do with that info what you will.) But anyway, things are going well, and if I have a single complaint it's that I'm too busy to enjoy it.

Last night I had a dream that the world was ending. It was happening slowly, city by city, citizen by citizen. It wasn't scary, or not very, but exciting and adventurous. Like an action movie, in which my role was simply to keep up with the smartest, strongest of the bunch, the true survivors, who (though they didn't share it with me) seemed to know where we were heading, with a rough idea of our final destination. They'd repeatedly suss out which direction had the most promise, then band together and race off before the older, slower bunch could catch up and the old landscapes disappeared...blasted to bits by a massive, laser death-ray thing, controlled by the invisible hand of a powerful impartial god. These survivors were all quite confident, capable, and fascinating in their own way. I followed them instinctively, making a conscious decision not to linger or cling to the old ways. I refused to miss or grieve the ones who perished—it was their time, that's all—as the rest of us pushed onward, leaping mountain tops and hopping aboard spaceships...whatever it took to get where we were going. 

This group of survivors was all me. I realized that as soon as I woke. Like individual stem cells, bursting with life, they were fragments of my future self, infused with potential and ready to replace the die-offs—the old ways and decrepit traits I am sloughing off.

My EMDR sessions, of late, have brought all kinds of memories to the surface. Events I've written about in great detail, actually, yet some detachedly, as a string of facts and mental images that are mere memories of memories, disconnected from their original emotional resonance.

For ten or twenty years, I've assumed my (manageable, "nothing to see here" brand of) PTSD was safely tucked away for good. I hadn't realized public exposure would trigger it, nor, in fact, had I ever really expected to be a public figure. Not even for my "fifteen minutes," to be honest, much less with an ongoing writing career. It's all good, though, and I'm better for it...if also broker, by a couple thousand dollars for the EMDR. It's worth every penny though, because without this (painfully) healing experience, I would not be moving forward. I would not be on my way to becoming the sum of this fragmented tribe of brilliant, fascinating, tenacious, adventurers. 

In my dream last night I wasn't scared or alone...well, not exactly alone, I'd say. I was this group of individuals, each with their own specific talent or trait that would help us all get somewhere where we could then come together. My overriding sensation throughout the dream was curiosity. I/we were going somewhere better, and I couldn't wait to see what this future place had in store for me. I brought my best and brightest to it, no dead weight, no sentimentality, superficiality, self-doubt, conceit, pride, or self-pity.

As the old world fell away behind us, I looked back exactly twice. Once to say good-bye, then once again with a nod of thanks. An acknowledgment of those tireless mighty fragments that had held together in the old world—held me together—long enough and strong enough to catapult me forward, from there to here. And to whatever awaits in my future.


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