pull the thread

A spider’s web is woven bit by bit, piece by piece. Have you ever watched a spider create their masterpiece? Mesmerizing as the thread glistens with the dew and sunrise. A focused creature,  in the ultimate way, a being that creates. When the fly lands and twists the web, the spider watches, then pounces. 

As I follow each thread I have an understanding of who I am – this thread is my anxiety, this thread is my depression, this thread is the abuse, this thread is my endometriosis, this thread is my childhood, this thread is my relationships – except as I follow each thread, a fly lands in the middle. I watch as it struggles and I realize that this is me, struggling to separate it all out in different threads. The threads aren’t separate, they are variegated, combined, intertwined.  I cannot learn about one part of me without understanding the other parts. I cannot begin to eat bread again because it affects my body, my mind, and my spirit, even if the thought of bread is heaven, the gluten inside of it wants to kill me, like that spider creating the web. 

Separating each part of me feels easier. I can categorize this piece or that piece, I can dole out the experience as I empathize with a stranger about their life. I don’t have to share the entirety of me to be close. 

The knot appears in the struggle. I pull the knot trying to fix each piece of me in isolation. I pull this thread, then that thread, thinking I can unknot it from itself. If I fix each thread, then I’ll be whole again. I try to cut off pieces thinking that’ll remove the knot, that I can trash a thread of my being. It always shows back up on the other side of the knot. 

The knot itself is who I am messy, overwhelming, too much. A colorful display of confusion, mistakes, and beauty. I mean, have you ever looked at a knot, the one inside your grandmother’s sewing kit? The history, the frustration, the abandonment, the promises of overcoming – that’s my knot – it’s all there. 

I tried to keep my knot a secret. People thought I was doing better than I was. I was strong, I was capable, I mean.. I am strong, I am capable.. And yet, I have this knot. It’s real and I am no longer embarrassed about it being real. I no longer want to untangle it, I just want to understand it and love it. The knot is mine, is me.

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