And, So It Begins

so others can end

Today I feel insecure. I feel weird being in my body. I feel grumbles in my belly for the junkiest of foods. Or maybe a rack of meat freshly sauced and pulled off of the smokiest of woods by the wrinkliest of brown hands. I feel like giving zero fucks about what my hair looks like as it blows in the coolest of winds while the body it’s attached to lounges in the back of the dustiest of the many of pick up trucks driven by my Papa. I feel like letting the goldest of rays kiss my sweet smelling, white-casted skin. I feel like sucking the sweetest of all honeysuckles from bunches nestled in between the links of a metal fence. I feel like being the Caroliniest of all Carolina girls. And maybe I feel far from that. Far from home.

My period started today. Only the second one since babe emerged from my womb. The first was when she was 10 months old. The day before Valentine’s Day. I’ve found myself missing having any sort of predictability about my body and it’s energy levels, so, I thought I’d greatly welcome it coming back, but in actuality, I can’t say I feel all welcoming. I have been sitting, reflecting on the more regular menstrual cycle before it left me. It was baby free and on a whim. I respected that about her. She had this flow that aided in my own freedom. I felt connected to her, and because I linked her with the lunar cycle, I felt connected to the stars, too. Now, as the full moon awakens and blood fills my cup, I grieve that freedom, even in recognizing its alchemized return.

These days, I’ve gotten used to being tied up and tied down with my babe, and I’ve gotten used to being unaware of the need to wipe the dripping blood from my inner thighs. I’ve gotten used to being a unit: mommy and baby. This return of my cycle feels like my body initiating readiness to be on her own a bit more. Telling me she’s open to remembering why she’s here, outside of being a mother to a star-baby. And I think I’ve been anxious about that shift. From me being all hers, to now being all mine some days. I think I find joy and drive having her on my hip, and a bit of relief from social anxiety when she’s my sidekick. Sharing myself with the world has always been scary, but sharing her with the world feels like cold water repeatedly dripped to the middle of my forehead. Torture.

In this, I’m reminded that as one cycle ends, another begins. My period comes back, closing the cycle of pregnancy, while postpartum continues forever and always. A full moon returns to let go of anything that no longer serves my higher purpose. And I allow things to come and go as they please, just as long as I don’t forget to take care of me.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx