Re-creation Preservation

When we moved to BC,
one of the things I loved the most was the thing most people would have hated the most.

I didn't know anyone.  Not a soul.

It was the most freeing, light feeling in the world.
No one was watching, or waiting, or expecting.
No one was looking for me to be what or who they wanted or needed.
I could just be.

The space allowed me the ability to do something I'd never really had the chance to do.
It was like I could lay myself down on a big fluffy bed and just watch as I rested awhile.
(Kind of like looking at myself from a bit of a distance.)

After the rest, I watched myself get up and re-create myself.
It was slow and there were baby steps because I wasn't in a hurry.
I didn't even know that a re-creation process was underway.
Opinions, feelings, plans, goals, intentions, beliefs, faith, relationships, style, dreams, preferences, passions, favorites, dislikes, hopes.... the list goes on and on.

Soon there were people in my life that surrounded me.
They ended up in my corner because of who I was and who they were.
They only knew the re-created me, so I didn't have to explain myself or justify who I was.
Sometimes they poked and prodded but it was OK - they only wanted to know more.
As I looked around at the great cloud of witnesses to my re-creation, I liked what I saw.
I liked who I saw.
Differences and extremes and craziness and strength.
Fighters and healers who didn't even know what box I came out of.

I wanted so desperately to hold on and preserve the re-created one -
Inked my wrist to remind me that change and growth happened in all the parts of who I am.
A wake-up call to say, "It happened.  It was real.  You are who you are now because of it."

I don't see me laying myself down on a fluffy bed anymore.
I see myself on tiptoes, holding myself far above my head as water pours in and threatens to drown the newness and the change.
The water is up to my neck and my arms are up as high as they can go in an effort to preserve the life that is left.
I am stretching and straining to hold myself higher, hoping the water stops where it is.
How much higher am I capable of stretching?
I don't know.
But if I stretch high enough, the air is clean and it gives me hope.

There are people here who knew me who are piling up the old boxes I used to fit in -
making a place for me to stand to get higher.
I may not fit into them anymore, but those old boxes are good for something after all.