One month later

by tamarjacobson

Have I been so busy that a month has passed me by without writing on this blog? I know there were travels across the country and many presentations, that's true. But what about all the thoughts and feelings wandering through my brain while these things were happening? I know I thought of many blog posts even as my days were full of this and that.

Ah, and there's always the book that I am writing. That takes up much of my time, for it fills my thoughts throughout the days, accompanying me on trips to the grocery store, on my walks, and at times even when I am chatting with neighbors. I had forgotten what it is like to be all consumed with my literary endeavors, and I am so privileged this semester to have the time to do just that: allow myself to be consumed. 

Apart from all of that though, this past month I have found peace of mind about my early childhood and the connections with the present reality. It started in March in Oxford, although it had been a long time coming through all the psychological work that I have been doing on myself over the years. I felt it in my presentations this past month, and as I stride out on my daily four-mile walk. I sense it as I take care of myself more and more – whether it is in preparing a variety of salads for dinner just for me alone while Life Partner is away on his travels; or sleeping in until six in the morning – one hour later than usual! Something has shifted within me.

It has taken a long time getting here, and continues to be a process of uncovering the inner workings of my emotional memory. I understand the reasons why. Some might call it forgiveness. Forgiveness for the people who hurt me so deeply – who broke my heart over and over again – forgiveness for myself for some of the choices I made. I call it understanding with my emotional brain – not the rational one. Understanding in my guts, if you will. Understanding that people who broke my heart knew not what they did. They had unresolved emotional issues, which they took out on me because I was so willing to believe their truths – so desperate was I for their love and acknowledgement. Understanding that the choices I made were the best I could do with the undeveloped awareness I had at the time. 

This type of understanding helps me heal my broken heart. It allows me to forgive myself for who I am and what I feel.