I cried...tears pouring down my face. It wasn't that sexy, silent cry we all sort of hope for where the tears cling gently to our perfectly mascaraed eyelashes before rolling silently down. It was the snot everywhere, hair stuck in my mouth, shoulders shaking sort of cry. A sniffling, gasping inhales and shuddering exhales sort of cry. I had warned her that's how it would be when it happened. I had no idea it would happen today. I guess we can't always predict these things.
It wasn't pain. It wasn't pleasure. It wasn't anger. It wasn't some kind of pent up frustration. It just...was. I can't explain the whys, and I'm actually at a place where I don't mind that.
The tears started quietly, when the first trickles of blood ran out of the 3 small holes left when Shay pulled the first needle out. I was sitting up so it didn't pool as it typically does. It ran in tiny streams down my sensitive sides. The blood starts warm, and then the path it leaves cools quickly. But even as it makes it's journey downward, what it leaves behind is still felt. It's not just that leading edge that I feel, it's long lines of hot and then tepid and finally cold blood.
I felt warm and calm, even as I cried. The blood felt...clean. I can't explain that, but it's the right word for me to use. Even as Shay tucked cloths around my waist to catch the blood before it hit my clothing, it felt clean. Even as I glanced down through tears to see the blood drip on the cloths and run in neat rows, staining the off white cloth with bright stripes, it felt clean. Cleasing sounds cliche, but perhaps that's close to correct.
I wasn't really thinking much. My mind wasn't processing anything in particular. I did sort of half heartedly apologize to Shay, although nothing made me feel like I needed to. Her shushing as she continued to pull needles and let more blood run was the only gentle reassurance I needed to let the tears keep flowing. It was okay.
When the blood subsided, it seemed like so did the tears. Like they were sensations and emotions that were linked together. My mind was in that flat, quiet, exhausted place crying puts you. The good one though, not the bad, hopeless and alone one. I leaned against the couch, face first, but very carefully. My brain is never really quiet enough that I don't worry about things like getting snot on Shay's furniture. She started cleaning my back with long strokes of a gauze pad soaked with alcohol, and then squeezed alcohol over the entire thing. The cold rivers of fluid passed over each series of holes with little pin pricks of sharp sting and floated me off in a new, happy way. Placing a hand on my back, she asked if she could leave me briefly to go to the bathroom. I said I was okay and she went quickly to the bathroom and I heard water running and splashing. It sounded like hand washing. I was immediately frightened and concerned she had stuck herself pulling a needle out, or was somehow covered in blood and was washing her hands. A small amount of annoyance flashed through my brain that she had excused herself to deal with that without letting me know. Then she returned.
She returned and knelt behind me and began washing my back. She had only been wetting a wash cloth so she could clean the streams of dried blood from me. The trust thing...still needs some work clearly. So does the anxiety control I guess. I think I'll get there.
But...today I cried. I only apologized once, and when she said it wasn't necessary, I believed her. Afterward, I opened up to enough to talk about it. It helped me understand what my tears meant to her, so I could embrace them more fully and not feel like they were unacceptable in anyway. Growth...this stuff isn't easy.
Then we drank this tea/hot chocolate concoction that seriously rocks. The End.
No comments:
Post a Comment