Thursday, March 4, 2010

a hug for myself

I am lying on my stomach on the floor as I type the end of my last blog and I start laughing and lie my face down on the floor. The laughter turns into crying, then back to laughing, then sobbing. I love this moment. I don’t ever want to forget it as I lie with my right leg sprawled out and the left leg bent so that my foot is propped up on the wall. My right cheek is resting on the floor with my gaze set onto my left arm that is at a 90 degree angle with the words “hold space” staring back at me.

I hold space for all these bits that make up who I am.

And now I feel as if a huge heaviness is released from me. I am light-headed and airy feeling. I am dancing in the wind. I am weightless. I am shaking. I am grateful for finding this way to express myself, for getting it outside of me. I have always battled with that, who do I call? Who do I talk to about so many things in my life? I feel so different, who will get what I have to say? Who will get all of me? I have found that I express myself so much clearer on the page then speaking. I love confrontation, I love talks, but this writing I have is the perfect expression of who I am and of what I feel.

While I was writing this and the last blog I moved from desk to laying with legs up the wall, to lying on the floor, to the toilet (yes, I took my laptop to the toilet with me) and back to the desk. I feel great, I am shaking, I am re-born. I want a hug, I want to cuddle. I look down and see the exercise ball that I am sitting on. I can hug that. Oh, that is crazy. Well, I can do whatever I want, right? Lets try hugging the ball, so I do, and I laugh. It feels good to have my arms wrapped around something right now.

I fall back onto the floor, lauging at myself, laughing with myself. I get back up and make myself something to eat. Maybe, this shaking this funny feeling in my body means that I need some fuel. I eat, clean up and do some things around the house. I am still feeling shaky. I pause and notice that I am currently standing up, embracing myself, giving myself a hug.


  1. This is (and you are) beautiful.

    Being 'with it' whatever 'it' may be--is there a better feeling in life? Is there a better way to go about things? If so, I haven't found one.

    I try to harness those moments onstage--let things happen, go with the moment, let the story get its due. But I find it really difficult to communicate that idea back to myself in my day-to-day life. I'm much braver when I consider myself in a 'safe' space (which is incidentally in front of hundreds of people.)

    I love words and I love writing, so I know exactly how you feel. You are amazing.

    Love love love,

  2. This is related to an earlier post:

    It was a stupid gag, you carrying Mraz on stage. You are a tall, strong, healthy woman, it's true, but I know the consequences of bearing weight not meant to be borne by a woman. You don't feel it now, but you may later, maybe when it matters most that you have a healthy body.

    My ex-boyfriend has a physique just like Mraz's-lean but muscular--and I know how heavy he is. I'm smaller than he is (at least vertically) but I weigh almost as much as he does, and I would never let HIM attempt to carry ME even though he has twice my strength.

    Why did Mraz ask you to do it? I know what you said, but why didn't he think of you when he was thinking of you?

    I love you both, but maybe you both need to think about "why?"

  3. You Are Beautiful

    He always said it that way,
    “you ARE beautiful”
    just like that,
    “you ARE beautiful,”
    like he was trying to convince himself of something,
    like he was disagreeing with something someone said.

    The emphasis was all wrong.
    He never said, “You’re beautiful,”
    the verb reduced to let the beautiful rise
    or “you’re BEAUTIFUL,”
    the adjective stressed and extended,
    a descriptive declaration to the world.

    He thought I wasn’t listening.
    He thought I hadn’t heard him
    and I let him keep believing
    that the doubt inside his words
    was something only he could hear.

    He said, “you ARE beautiful”
    like a disappointed mother
    who loves her child more than life—
    her decidedly unremarkable child—
    who she tries to shield from things
    whispered or left unsaid.

    The funny thing is that I had never noticed
    what he was seeing until I followed his gaze
    I never knew what I looked like to myself
    until his inflection objected to the

    I guess I wasn’t surprised to discover
    that I gave him the syncopation
    he tried to counter.
    And I guess only I could have given him
    the leave to honor what he believed.

  4. Are you OK, Tricia?

  5. Maybe you should call someone to come check on you?

  6. Thanks for your concern Anonymous! I am amazing! I am alive! I am vibrant! I love emotions all of life! I am simply letting all of it show up for me! I love tears! I love emotions! I really do. I am not bullshitting. And Norma thank you also for my concern for my body....I am sure all of the sound equipment that I have stacked in the back of semis and flipped around will show up somewhere down the line too! Lucky me, my yoga practice helps me to balance and manage weight. It was quite easy for me to carry him.

  7. Jason Mraz carries the hopes and dreams, the careers, of many people, and he does it graciously and with gratitude because he seems to have realized that those people carry him, too. I’m sure he literally carries friends like Jesse Billauer when they ask him to, when they need him to.

    Jason Mraz is also just a guy who does stupid guy stuff. Guys have qualities we don’t; women have qualities guys don’t. We don’t always have to go along with their stupid guy stuff, especially when it messes with our valuable girl stuff. That’s all.

    Why do I take the time to comment about what people I don’t even know say and do? That’s something I have to think about! I think I’ll go do that now…