I’ve been obsessing over Taylor Swift these days, in fact I’m probably a little more invested in her relationship with the guy on the football team than I really should be, but I guess it’s a needed distraction for all the other works in progress in my life at the moment. I started listening to her last album Midnights because Anti-Hero was all over the radio and I thought it was catchy so I tried the album out . After listening to it a few times i found myself fully immersed in all things Swifty. I started really digging into her discography and found myself surprised at her brilliant lyrics and songwriting. Now is Taylor swift my normal genre…hell no. Im more of a classic bohemian rock girl. I mean I have my more modern obsessions like blue October and Prince, but on any given day your gonna find me grooving to Fleetwood Mac and The Doors. Im an old soul. So what is it about this girls music that drew me in, in one word, storytelling, she has a way of placing you in the scene of her words. I came across her song invisible string and nearly fell apart at the seams. To find yourself sobbing in your car on your way to work over a love song seems a little crazy. It made me think about how lucky I am in the vastness of the universe to have landed in the arms of my husband. The man who has Infinite patience as I dive into the world of trying to heal my soul.. “ Time mystical time, cutting me open then healing me fine were there clues I didn’t see?” Sing it girl…sing it.
I got a therapist and have been working these past few weeks to really find some sort of completion. For years I’ve been moving the trauma boxes around in the vast closet of my past. I’ve dug thru the boxes of my psyche trying to find the lessons that give me purpose and help shape who I am, but with the stresses of living thru a pandemic and doing it while in healthcare, I’ve found myself unable to keep the traumas neat and organized in a fashion that keeps me functioning. My body has been wracked with pain as I try to find a way to deal with all of the bullshit that keeps popping up from years ago, things I thought I packed up for the last time are now once again visible in the rear view. They seem to creep up on me at the most inopportune moments. Frankly I’m tired of being caught off guard.So in an effort to fall into what good things await me in 2024, and by gods there will be good things, I decided to try some sort of professional support for a change and see how things go.
After each session I try to keep some notes about what themes keep popping up, I’ve found it cathartic even after a session that might have traumatizing content but its stuff that I don’t fall apart over. It got me to thinking though, about how all of these moments are invisible strings that sew the seams of who I am, all my little quirks and how I operate in life. I’ve tried over the years to replace these threads with different things. Maybe this is why I’m obsessed with fiber arts. Knitting and crocheting, spinning and weaving all center around rearranging the natural fibers of our lives and making them into something beautiful. There is a chaos in it that appeals to me. Taking something raw and unordered and turning it into something beautiful and useful brings me comfort.The sliding of the yarn thru my fingers is meditative. Ongoing renewal seems to be a central theme.
It has been often difficult to accept those strings for what they are. I fell stuck in time at certain junctures, unable to replace those formative strings out of some warped sense of duty to preserve my truth. They are like a wound I can keep putting my finger in just to make sure I can still feel something. They are the memories that keep me bound to this version of myself and sometimes, I’m scared to let her go. Your dysfunction becomes comfortable. There comes a point when there is no mask that can hide what’s brewing beneath the surface. There is no person who can comfort you or ritual that can help you find your center. There is no art that can make pretty the gaping wound and you have to find a way to use that string to sew it up and allow nature to do what it does best. Callouses are still reminders, but they are not objects of disassociation, they are the evidence of the work.
When I trace the invisible strings back to the formative moments I find many things that are tied to my lack of self worth. Even the way I purchased my house. Those moments in my young life taught me that I could never stand up to the severe evaluation that buying a house brings. I’ve never even tried to get a traditional home loan. Buying a car freaks me out. Careful introspection leaves me in shambles. The imposter syndrome is sometimes crippling. It’s time to stop all of that because following the strings not only tells me why I’ve got these issues, its also evidence that I’ve lived thru some really terrible shit. I’ve also survived all of it and learned to thrive in ways most folks dealt my cards never will. It’s time to stop punishing myself for others not teaching me my worth and learn to live in the now and truly see all the blessing in life I have before me. Reinvention means nothing if you keep that old version there waiting for a re-install whenever things get hard. I can no longer afford to be stuck in this cycle of self loathing.
My kids are growing and I’m so proud of them, If they choose to have children I want to be to them the grandmother that I had. Strong, humble and able to address my errors with grace. They are all lovely and beautiful creatures and I often wonder how on earth I did that. I tried so hard to be the mother to them that I didn’t have. I’ve often felt that I fell short. I worry that they will leave the house and never want to see me again because at times that’s the way I felt about my parents. I obsess over wether I’m enough to them, or if I’m just something they have to tolerate. Im a little off kilter, I like strange things, I can make you a list right now of all the reasons that they might site to their own therapists. Crazy isn’t it, how I can turn something beautiful into this faulty self evaluation. I’ve often wondered if my mother also sat in silence and thought about these things, and I wonder more than I should if she had talked to me about it that maybe our course in life together could have been a little less rocky. It always saddens me a little when I say stuff about our relationship and people tell me how much she loved me. I don’t doubt that she did, she just wasn’t able to love me in the way that I needed and I think a lot about that as a mother, how each of these little people you made all need something different from you and how difficult it can be to meet those needs.
I need to be restrung, like that old racket in the back of the closet. After years of trying to make up my own coping mechanisms I find myself unable to visualize being whole. Here I sit in the very lap of my dream and I’m finding that even here I still find myself unable to surrender to contentment. The old ghosts keep finding a way in, even though I built a fortress to keep them at bay. You can’t run from something that is sewn into your being. There are no protection spells or enough iron in the corners to keep you safe from your self.
I find myself falling back into Taylors music, “Is it enough if i can never give you peace?” What a powerful sentiment. I’ve discovered however that I can give peace, as long as I can find a pathway to peace within myself. I can’t give it to you if I can’t hold it. The 9 of swords has been haunting my most recent tarot draws. It’s fitting because it is a card about how constant self evaluation leads to being frozen by your nightmares. So in 2024 I’m going to work on me. I don't have a thousand ideas of things I want to accomplish, the main thing is that I need to learn to value myself, just being and not focusing on the things I can do for others to fill the space. Maybe then I can see the next project on the house, the next phase of healing my heart and the next mountain top view. That’s what life is I’ve learned, a collection of invisible strings tangled and woven into the tapestry of our life. This year Ill be following that invisible string back to love. Love of self, acceptance of my being and tying a bow around the love in front of me.
I spent New Year’s Day doing something for myself, making a comfy cardigan and crocheting comfort and peace into existence. It is my hope that learning to untie the knots and free the memories trapped inside I can be the best version of myself, and a better version of myself to the people who need me most. I need to stop wishing time would just move me past it and slow things down so that I can savor and enjoy the journey.
I hope this new year brings all my friends to the summit. Thanks Taylor for your little prophecies and inspirations, maybe you are the witch they say you are.. takes one to know one :)
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