What is wrong with me? I asked<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What is wrong with me. I said<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There’s something wrong with me. I thought <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’m broken. I believed<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To fix me I undertook a searching and fearless moral inventory. I took a dictionary of faults, and measured every one against my character, personality, history, soul<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I found every one of these faults in me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was a junk drawer that had been spilled on the floor and I was that mettle of nails\/keys\/Lego blocks\/buttons\/coupons\/leaking batteries and the dust of old Cheerios and lint<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My arms and legs hurt at the joints and then separated. My heart have two big pumps, then let released the veins and lifted away\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My liver, my kidneys loosened from the tissues. Everything <\/p>\n\n\n\n
f l o a t e d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a w a y<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn’t have a hole in my soul <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was a hole. All that was left was the hurt, the trauma, the shame, the ashes<\/p>\n\n\n\n
These parts floated into a forest and hovered <\/p>\n\n\n\n
They were cold in winter, hibernated with the foxes, sleeping gently<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They woke in early spring, peeked out of the den, my nose poked out, but didn’t want to go yet<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes wandered out and looked for signs of early grass<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They stayed in the forest. They went to little bridges over creeks, watching the creek flow by <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the hole wanted to touch the cold water<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My hand wanted to touch the cold water <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It called a hand to lower down and touch it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The arm joined and supported the hand<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Legs came and carried them to another bridge<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The heart joined to pump the oxygen so they could walk farther <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hole center called my organs came back <\/p>\n\n\n\n
When my head came they asked it to leave the thought behind and just walk together a while<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They walked for months until all the body parts came together around the hole, the trauma, shame<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I was whole<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whole with the brokeness<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The history<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The trauma<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The shame<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What is wrong with me? I asked What is wrong with me. I said There’s something wrong with me. I thought I’m broken. I believed To fix me I undertook a searching and fearless moral inventory. I took a dictionary of faults, and measured every one against my character, personality, history, soul I found every one of these faults in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[41],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=134"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":135,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134\/revisions\/135"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=134"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=134"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/midlifeunraveling.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=134"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}