Back from the Pond

On a whim, I traveled to the pond yesterday to spend some time with Anya.  Well, not exactly.  I drove to Kentucky to see Anya for a bit until she left for dinner … in Cincinnati while I sat in the formal dining room and wrote a really emotionally charged portion of this novel I’ve been working.  I know, I know.  I said I was finished with it last week, and had my personal dance party.  Turns out, I wasn’t finished with it.  So Anya and Kevie left for the Nati, I sat with my machine, Woodstock and Charlie Brown (Anya’s dogs) some super delicious noshing-style foods and a bottle of wine.

I sat down at the table, stretched, and took a deep breath.  Time to write.

Nope.

I got up. 

Walked around.

Played with the dogs.

Took some pics.  Scrolled Facebook and Instagram.  Reddit. 

Fuck, I didn’t want to write the scene.

A big swig of wine.  Changed the tunes from Freddie Gibbs to Nine Inch Nails.

Okay, I can do this.

Sat back down.

Another big swig.  Deep breath.

In the eight years since it happened, I finally mustered the courage to write a fictionalized scene of my rape.  It was so fucked.  Midway through the real parts, tears slowly started falling.  I had to reposition myself in my chair so that I didn’t damage my laptop.

What began as a slow trickle turned into a full on emo-fest.  And instead of denying it, I let it happen.  Let the pain of the event come through – not just in my tears, but in my words as well.

Four thousand words later, I was spent.  Emotionally so fucking raw that the only thing I could think to do was go to bed.  Not even nine, and I was ready to crawl into sheets in my room at Anya’s house.  Anya and Kevie weren’t even back from dinner!

Headed upstairs, accompanied by the dogs and nestled in.  And holy shit.  I slept.  So fucking well.  Dreamed of horses, running, recaulking my bathtub. 

Woke this morning, shared my words with Anya.  The story STILL isn’t finished, but it’s almost there.  After a good long sweat at the gym, I returned to my space and added these lovely pieces to one of my sacred spaces.  A rock from Clay Run, Tibetan prayer flags that will soon grace my back stoop, and a Reiki-charged candle. 

Deep breath.

Time to write the end.

Time to nourish my soul.