And it's left me feeling disoriented and missing the sense of protection that I gave up to tell the secret. I have never felt more exposed or vulnerable.
It's not that I want to take it back, to go back to where I was or not tell the secret. And the recipient of this story could simply not have been more caring or compassionate or loving. I could not have imagined the support and warmth where I had thought I would be faced with disgust or judgement.
But I have been so used to a certain kind of isolation, a certain kind insulation, a certain kind of security from knowing how firmly in place my limitations were, that I cannot quite get my balance, I cannot quite find my center the same way.
I was centered around something that needed to go, the fear and overwhelm was no friend of mine, but so familiar that there was some comfort in them.
So now I have to find a new center, a new equilibrium that doesn't depend on the tragic heaviness of carrying a burden alone for too long. And I don't know that it will take long, but I have to honor the process for what it is, and let it unfold in its own time.
But I know I'm not supposed to just keep going it alone. And I don't know how to do all this just yet, but I am relieved not to be alone.