Gentle catching the vault

Oh my, it has been a few days since I've chatted with you, my dear readers...

I've been in a very dark and uncomfortable place. Spent day after day just lying down, with a blanket over my head, just listening to cartoons. Not watching... listening.

Been doing a lot of internal work, just sitting on the back porch, grooving on the yard, the moon, the fresh air.

I've always had a problem (most people do, I fear) working the whole "forgiveness" thing. Everyone agrees it's necessary, but "how"? That, there isn't a lot of talk about. "Oh, just let it go," they say. To which I say, "How?"

But I think I'm coming to the "let go" place using different roads. The main road is "truth," and the question is "how do I feel?" not "What did They (whoever "They" may be) do?"

"They" are not my problem. I am my problem.

My "inner conversation" has often gone like this... "So, I'm angry about how They ..." and then I stop myself. "How do I feel? Not 'They,' how do I feel?"

And very interesting answers come from this conversation. And at the end of it all, as Finn said on Adventure Time, "My vault? The place where I keep things I can't deal with? My vault feels... lighter."

And another gift of MS...being a member of the Cath Club.

At various points during the day (or night), I'm trying to suss out whether my bladder is calling desperately for emptying or just whining (very much like the cat mewling, "I'm just not happy! Everything's wrong!!!"), I suddenly put it this way:

I don't need to "bank" things I need to get rid of. 

Urine? That's all about getting rid of stuff I no longer need. I don't need to "bank" stuff I'd be better off simply getting rid of.

And so it is with resentment. I don't need to "bank" resentment. I don't need to bank righteous rage. I don't need to bank hostility. I don't need to bank sneering, poking a finger into my chest growling "I'm the one who's right here!"

Besides, those moments in the past, all those moments, both glorious and grim... they're all gone. Dead as dead gets. They ain't coming back. They can't.

And the emotions that go with each of them? Charged moments? Banking those charges imprisons me.

I don't need to "bank" imprisonment. Cath Club enables me not to "bank" urine; the way one "catheterizes" charged moments, is with truth. I feel... and that's where we come to: the truth. I simply say what I feel. I speak the truth.

And my vault gets lighter.

My new cath, "GentleCath," is among the kinds I've tried so far, superior. Works better, and is indeed gentle. So that's the task now... if you'll forgive a tortuous mixing of metaphors, cath the vault gently, with truth.

Quite the gift of MS, the Cath Club. In more than the obvious ways...