December 21

     I don't think I have adjusted completely to being visible. Not yet, at least. Part of me still wants to retreat back to the safety of the old, the safety of the invisible. But once invisibility disappears, it's hard to get back. So I press on. Standing there, knowing there are so many scary things to face.  All the things I am not sure I know how to do, or worry about how to negotiate. But they are things I use to do, use to know. Maybe it's like riding a bike. The very few people in my life who know what's going on, they are the ones who tell me I can do it.  Tell me I will be fine.  There is one especially --his wisdom, his calm. His belief in me. Although I've only known him for less than a year, his help -- the importance of the connection between body and mind -- continues to make me see the world in a new way.  And it amazes me because he is so young, young enough to be my son. Something we constantly laugh about because I always refer to him as being 12.  But his soul understands so much. At one point, I considered not going to him because I was afraid my life would somehow infect his; he has a girlfriend and I was afraid my clouded karma might bring bad luck. He didn't see it that way, and now I'm glad. How someone so young can know so much continually amazes me. I have found it somewhat curious that men are much more keyed-in between what is right and what is wrong; if someone really loves you there are basic behaviors, standards to even expect. Why would He not be at the hospital for my surgery? Why, instead, would He go visit his mother? Sometimes it helps to have someone else say these things. They seem so silly; I guess they aren't. But at some point, I'm going to have to go it alone. Without help...