The Grind

I know it's been a while. I've been drowning in stuff. This is just a quick-and-dirty update, for you dear souls who care about the mundane details of my life. I'll write some more in-depth thoughts about this stuff when I get some time. For now, I'll do what, I believe, is called "goin' Lori-style."

The hormones are working. Oh, friends. There are no words to describe how beautiful it feels to have gone through an entire cycle without a giant emotional breakdown and the days and days of recovery it entails. How good it feels to have gone an entire month without convincing myself that everyone whom I love is repulsed by me. An entire month of being gentle with myself, caring for myself. It's been so long. The metaphor I've always used to describe how that darkness feels is that I am a fly trapped in amber, straining to move my wings and getting nowhere, suspended, imprisoned, watching all my fellow flies flit about, crushed by my incapacity. It feels like the amber has shattered, and the breeze is brushing my back, and all the colors look like they should again. I do hope it lasts.

I still can't sleep. Three weeks now. It got a little better, but it's gotten worse again. Four hours a night, five, three, then seven, then back to three. Last night, it was two and a half. This has to stop, because

I'm working on an artistic commission. I'm making jewelry for a play that runs for two weeks in Indianapolis at the end of this month. There will be a whole post on that, with pictures, when my work is done. It is a Big Job, and it's most of the reason why I've been scarce.

I'm learning Acroyoga. Oh, man. Let me tell ya. Acroyoga is the most intensely communal thing I've ever experienced. The sharing of energy and emotion, the complete trust in and of another human being, the feeling of supporting and being supported psychologically, spiritually, and physically, the intimacy and safety and love. I wish I were a writer, so I could tell you what it's placed in my heart. Tamie dear, if you're reading, take note: try it. You won't be sorry. Then please write about it, so someone with a far-finer grasp of the language than I have can communicate it.

I sit on a balance ball at work now. So far, my back is very grateful.

Sometime before the end of the year, I'm taking a trip to the east coast to visit the people who love me, them and only them. No obligations, no guilt or trying to please others. No visiting my mother. Just a two-week (hopefully)-long bath in love.

I am doing well. I am feeling strong and peaceful.

Shalom, brachot, and namaste.