43 holes and counting

IMG_2143Two more holes today…One short term and one until the end of this chapter. That makes at least 43 holes I am aware of since July 16. None of them piercings, none of them adorn me. Quite the opposite actually as I look in the mirror at my body. Yoga enabled me to know and to love my body and myself. And now I must begin to relearn how to do that, at least temporarily, with these new markings. Hospital tape, bandages, sore spots, painful areas, scars, staples, holes, bruises, tubes, bumps.

Part of me doesn’t want to learn to love it at all or get used to this body at all. Because that would be acceptance. In those moments, I hate this all so much.

But YOU who hold me and support Steve and I, who send rays of sunshine and rainbows through each cloud, who tend our fires and your own fires, who never leave my side, who sing a new song, who blossom a new color; it’s you who write me love notes and draw me pictures; YOU remind me that no matter how many holes are poked in me- I AM so WHOLE. Beyond whole. Full to the brim and sparking new fires. A complete circle.

For this, I am grateful beyond which I knew I had the capacity to be.

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