Over the holiday break I’ve been watching Station Eleven on HBO Max.
It has hit me hard. Very hard.
Like others from the geographical location of the show watching the events of the show has I grew up in Michigan, I spent my summers on the west (Lake Michigan) coast. I still live in Michigan and still spend my holidays in the Grand Traverse area. Hell, we have a 20-plus year relationship with the same small lakeside-eleven-room-resort where we stay every time. Watching the show play out in places I know like the back of my hand has been to put it mildly, impactful.
It has made me realize that I am still carrying A Lot of unresolved trauma. Trauma that I had thought that I had dealt with and laid down decades ago. Trauma that has come back to haunt me in the not so distant past.
Trauma that has kept me wary. Trauma that has led to most of my friends being unaware of my past, or even the extent of my current isolation.
Watching episode nine yesterday left me in a state of quiet peace. I am trying to heal. I am taking steps to work on resolving the damage.
However, this is the best representation of where I am at this time.
I am the giraffe.
And I am on fire.
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