21 guns

if you listen to the radio at all, you've heard this song. being that i'm in my work truck anywhere from two to six hours a day doing nothing but driving, i now listen to a lot of radio.

this song has really, really stuck with me. for a while i couldn't have told you why. well, aside from the really effing awesome music compilation and especially the drums, i couldn't think of anything. but then i sat down and listened to the lyrics, and i now realize why my subconscious has had such a strong connection to this song.

lately my life has been constant conflict: my body with my work schedule, my mind with my body, my previous programming with my actual needs, my work schedule with my family and friends, my conscious with my subconscious.

way back when, people used to believe that heaven and hell did battle every day, with our bodies and souls as their battle field. lately i've wondered if they were more correct than they were aware of.

i've come to realize certain things about myself, certain aspects of my soul i've denied and abused and tried to kill my entire life. i suppose you could call it my inner child. i've treated her rather cruelly. i'm learning to accept her.

also, a dear, dear person introduced me to a book i had never heard of, and a concept i hadn't known existed. the book is the highly sensitive person, and --like gluten-free girl-- is revolutionizing my life. i've bought three of her books ("the highly sensitive person," the workbook, and "the highly sensitive person in love") and am reading the first one.

sometimes i can't breathe, reading it. just like when i first cracked open gluten-free girl, i am reading a book that is telling me about my life in explicit detail. i've never really felt as if a book were speaking directly to me before, but this particular work is doing exactly that.

it's drumming up very powerful feelings within me. unfortunately, i read this book where and when i can, given my schedule, so it goes without saying i don't have the luxury to experience the emotions freely as if i were to read the book in private. because lemme tell you, if i were...this book would have had me railing and weeping and openly experiencing emotions i haven't felt in too many years.

it's also helping me see myself in an entirely new light: one that's not in the least negative. i'm not crazy. i do not have a disorder. i'm not too broken to live. do you know what it's like, finally learning that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you, and you are worthy? finally, blessedly worthy?

worthy of what? worthy of being alive. worthy of breathing. worthy of just as much love and understanding and acceptance as anyone else.

it's another Delena of the Funkywild r[E]volution. so i'm going through my trunk of old clothes and dusting off my pink go-go boots, pink flashy-hearts-on-springs headband, and my bandolier filled with glitter lip gloss and small bottles of bubble solution. Delena the Revolutionary Freedom Fighter for Beauty, Truth, and Finding the Funk is back.

she's fucking back.

so i'm raising the white flag. i'm giving the 21 gun salute, discharging my ammunition to show i am no longer hostile to my soul, my sensitive body, my needs, or my inner child. i have no idea how i'm going to live in peace and harmony with them --the demands of my work life are so strenuous and exacting-- but i know i will no longer continue the fight.

my strong, independent, tough adult self that can smell bullshit a mile away and refuses to take any shit from anyone can be an awesome, kickass big sister for my little girl self.

...why have i taken the reins from my bio-parents and been the evil stepmother to her for so long? why have i compounded her abuse? she's strong in her own way, and amazing to have survived for so long, with so little.

and so...i lay down my arms and give up the fight. 21 guns...i lift up my arms into the sky. her and i...