Still Water

Traversing childhood traumatic experiences leaves my soul wandering sometimes. It is as if it took all the stillness out of my being.

Relearning? Relearn what?

I was never taught anything about stillness. Sure, I had to sit still. I had to be calm for my father, but stillness – internally, you know the thing that peace is made from – yeah, I had none of that.

It takes a lifetime to unlearn the packages that were left with me from my upbringing. Oh, I ain’t mad at nobody but my gosh, the wreckage that was left in me has been tremendous.

Not only was I severely abused, I was then abandoned. Left to rot.

I find the challenges of overcoming these issues one of the hardest. My soul doesn’t long for stillness because I don’t know what that means.

I like going all the time. I like doing something – keep on keeping on, as the saying goes.

And, then, I crash or overdrink or over workout or – fill in the blank, but it isn’t still rest that I seek.

I rest when I’m forced to peg myself to the couch because I’ve ran myself silly.

Darn that!

I need to learn to want to be still.

As I look back over the course of my life, I see that the deepest times of healing were when I began to rock steady, still my boat and chill.

No wonder I ran! Look at all the shit I’ve discovered by slowing down. I didn’t think that would happen, but now my legs are a bit more peaceful, my mind a bit more calm and my heart much more open.

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