I’m not saying I’m Jesus, but I have arisen y’all. And before you think I am in a manic episode let me assure you that though I have numerous other mental, shall we say peccadilloes, I do not have that one. That bi-polar one. A touch cyclothymic? Sure. However, I have never believed even for a moment that I am:
c. Can fly
d. In dire need of taking all my clothes off right now because the wind on my skin, man.
Even though they have medication for that shit I am grateful for that. (I’m not saying I haven’t been psychotic, hypomanic and all round out of my mind, but at least my delusions don’t extend towards the Messianic.)
When I say I have arisen, or been re-born, or been resurrected, I actually mean that I have finally moved into my own apartment. Virginia Woolf talks about how a writer needs a “Room of One’s Own,” she would have been pretty impressed by my six. If I close the shades, I can actually walk around naked. (Again, not a compulsion, just convenient. Who wants pants?) Also, I don’t have to hold my pee.
For two years while I cohabitated with my ex and made a home for myself in the garage, the bathroom was located in the main house. Both during the day and at nighttime, whenever the urge arose, my first instinct was to question it, “Do I really need to go? What if I run into him? Ugh, it’s cold, those stairs…”
Often, I would just go outside. We lived in a rural area, secluded on a hill; my nearest neighbors may have gotten an eyeful, I can’t be sure, but I’m an exhibitionist so I am not altogether bothered by it. For an admitted JAP, squatting outside was still preferable sometimes to being in my ex-husband’s energy field. Not because I don’t still love him, but maybe because I do.
The first night in my new apartment I noticed it. I DIDN’T HAVE TO HOLD MY PEE. What is happiness if not being able to pee when needed? When bodily functions can proceed untrammeled, you know life is good. Whole new level of comfort. My bladder is in heaven.
Also, my soul. Energetically the disconnection from my marriage was so painful, there were many times I thought I would die. I am still sort of surprised I didn’t. Wait let me check. Am I dead? Is this but a dream? Maybe I’m just dreaming my fingers hitting the keys right now and you are merely imagining reading it?
And what is that I smell? Ah, I know. It is freedom. Also in my mouth. Mmmm, tastes delicious. Yummy freedom, neither salty nor sweet, but perfectly Umami. The wide-open highway of possibility. What will my life become? Who will I be now that I can pee with abandon? I have no idea. But whatever it is, I suspect it will be beautiful. And if it’s not, if there is pain and sadness and messy oozing blood and bone, rest assured I will still be compelled to share it all with you.