FULL CIRCLE

When was the last time you felt that instinctual pull towards joy?

Or, the last time you followed your heart instead of what was safe and controlled?

I haven't slept more than an average of 1-4 hours over the past 5 weeks.

The medication that was supposed to help level blood sugar spikes and reduce inflammation and joint pain (thanks menopause) worked in the sense that the water weight came off, reduced carb cravings and the dull ache in my fingers and shoulders were virtually gone.

Oh, but the heart palpitations that could wake the dead, acid reflux forming ulcers in my throat and anxiety that made a feral rabbit being chased by a coyote look tame were just a few added bonuses.

On top of that, I've been having some marital woes that came sort of expectedly after the big move. My heart has been in tatters for months now. I needed to be with someone that loves me so unconditionally, in my messiest, most unfiltered state.

Listening to Braiding Sweetgrass as I roam over the rolling green hills of Michigan, Indiana and Illinois, filled to the brim with Queen Anne's Lace, wild sunflowers and fuzzy cattails bobbing in the wind.

What I didn't expect was such an intense wave of gratitude and love.

We decided to meet up for lunch. On the way to Pasta D'Arte on the northeast side of Chicago, I turned down a familiar road. Bryn Mawr and Nagle. My great aunt's home.

It was right there. The only home I knew as a child where I felt that unconditional love. I felt safe, welcomed, they wanted me there. They showered us with wet Grandma-style kisses on the cheeks, hugs that could cure cancer, traditional Polish comfort food that warmed the soul before it filled our bellies. The sounds of Chicago Cubs games and the smell of pierogi drifting through my memories as if I were in their adorable 1920's bungalow at that very moment.

Overwhelmed with the memories of being so sweetly loved had me completely undone.

I entered the restaurant, cleaned my face up as best I could in the bathroom and came out to see my dear beloved friend of 27 years at the table. I wore my prettiest, form fitting, dusty-rose flowered dress for her. I knew she would appreciate it.

She ordered a bottle of Sangiovese, we ate our meal and talked, laughed, cried, laughed and cried again. We plotted a book series of her life, where she is the "author" and I am the ghost writer. We had espresso and just enjoyed being in each others orbit. I love how we can talk so freely, no hesitation, no judgement. Just us.

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"Let's go touch the bean, I didn't have a good experience the last time, many years ago," she suggested. It took an hour to go 11 miles but what the fuck else were we doing?

We ended up missing our exit which caused a 20 minute extension to our trip to the bean because we were screaming every know obscenity at the Trump tower. Both of us have been assaulted physically and sexually by men. Multiple men. Our rage reverberated through our throats with such passion- in hopes that our future might involve men actually being held accountable for their despicable, deplorable actions.

Lollapalooza drumming in the background with so many young, fresh faced, dazed and dazzling folks walking around in scandalous clothing that was exciting and intoxicating to watch.

We gazed at ourselves, hugging each other, leaning our heads in and touching our own aging hands into the Cloud Gate.

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Our return journey to the restaurant involved half my body hanging out the car window to get the best shots of the city, scream-singing Smashing Pumpkins and watching the art-deco city blurred in a kaleidoscope of gray.

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I'm 18 again.

Unburdened by adulthood, completely wrecked by childhood. I felt a sense of hope, then. The kind of naive hope that I might someday have some control of my life, that the future may hold some semblance of love.

We arrived at her home in southern Wisconsin and I immediately put my pajamas on. She made me dinner and poured me a glass of wine. We stayed up late having those incredible soul-fulfilling talks. I slept 5.5 hours for the first time in 5 weeks. My body knew it was safe and loved.

She made me breakfast, and I left quickly thereafter due to the two bouquets of stargazer lilies. I'm seriously allergic.

I thought about going to to Chicago Botanical gardens alone, but I felt the primal call towards pure nature. I knew about the Volo Bog as a child, I don't remember visiting it though. It was a short 30 minute drive on the way back, so I headed there.

Continuing Braiding Sweetgrass in the background, the author/narrator reminded me yet again how the Earth is a gift to be enjoyed, not exploited, and I couldn't help but think curated botanical gardens are just that. A show. I needed those native plants, trees and flowers in my eyes, dancing and singing its glorious natural beauty.

And oh, what a gift it was.

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The last gift was that of pure, innocent love. I was alone, walking through the bog. The drifting sounds of laughter, crying, soft moaning, exclamation and joyous chatter grew louder. For a second, I thought "is someone having really great sex out here? What in the hell?"

Not in the least. Just an adorable young couple and their surprise engagement.

I gently asked if I could take a few photos. They were gracious and agreed.

I thought of my own experience of love in my youth. I thought of my husband. We were so ridiculously in love. Twenty years later, it has evolved as we changed. It looks different now, but the love is still there. It made me have such gratitude for this kismet encounter which made me think, "give love a chance."

I watched the Chicago skyline in my rear view mirror as I headed back towards our new home, in a new state, so far from what is familiar, yet so close to who I was.

When I arrived home, nearly 6 grueling hours later, I was greeted with happy tails and a warm hug from my husband. Our small apartment was clean, bed made, laundry folded and carefully put away, kitty litter scooped and dishes done.

I talked to my sister a few days after my return. I told her of my adventures and the happenstance of coming across a young couple that had just gotten engaged. I started cackling... As I walked away from the happy duo, I should have said, "Don't do it! It's a trap!" That really got her going, given that her divorce was finalized a year and a half ago.

Relationships of all kinds are tricky. I recognize how we carefully calculate each risk, we test each other, look out for the signs of being abandoned, cheated on, lied to, betrayed... when you have a heart of 24k gold, you want to be able to share it freely. All love comes at a cost. What are we willing to risk? I will no longer risk reducing the respect and love I have for myself.

After spending four years in the deepest depression I've experienced, suicidal thoughts and an attempt, intensive therapy utilizing EMDR, major life changing surgery and the recovery, merging my disconnected, fragmented mind into my body through trauma sensitive yoga, healing my gut, removing all harmful relationships and honoring the ones that showed me true compassion and love, listening so intently to my instincts on how to move forward in life, it has finally brought me home.

I came full circle. I am where I belong. Something I've never felt before. It almost scares me. But it is in the love I have, so grounded in safety, the people who didn't give up on me, those who see me exactly as I am and want to be near me instead of so easily letting me go because of their own insecurities that makes me so sure of my choices.

Follow your heart and that cosmic pull towards joy. Please, I beg you. Don't give into the eternal rotating, looping dread of your wicked mind that wants to keep you in the shallows.

Keep trying, keep getting up. Fight for your life. FIGHT!

There's an endless supply of beauty, the holiness of nature, the mutual love that I kept hoping to have has always been there, I just had to find myself in the darkness.

And you were there with me the whole time, waiting.