There was a moment last week...
We had a rare piece of time alone together. And he was - quieter, more focused, hungry, intense...
There's not usually a lot of talking, but this time there was none - he pushed and pulled and swatted me around. He moved quickly and changed directions often. He went through things, from start to full on, in a blink. He was harder - he hit harder, he pulled and twisted harder. He bit - harder, unexpectedly.
I couldn't really catch up. I was very on edge. There was some fear, and the awareness that i was just this side of panic. I would not be drifting off to la la land. I would be very, very focused on him, his movements, his wishes, his wants. And focused on keeping myself on the right side of panic, on keeping-up enough.
And that edge, for me, amplifies the pain, or keeps me from transmuting it (yes - probably not a word, but I bet you know what i mean).
During one of the brief stops, to switch things up, i was kneeling - in position, but a little bit cowery, a little bit quivery, a little drawn in and closed off, back hunched, head up, waiting and looking In the right position - sort of - but not truly.
I remember having the thought that it's a very difficult position in which to feel drawn in and closed off. And something flipped. I calmed, i breathed, i straightened where i was meant to be straight, and relaxed where i was meant to be relaxed. I felt my shoulders pull back, and my head bow.
I know, i knew all along, that i never have anything to truly fear. But there are times that the way he wants to go is difficult for me to keep up with. That is part of what he wants in those moments.
Something about that flip in my head allowed me to be open to that. It didn't change his approach - I still had to really work to keep up - but it was like the difference between trying to do something difficult while holding your breath or gasping for air instead of breathing slowly and deeply.