My sister had a hermit crab when we were kids. It lived in a circular cage in “the little room,” this small rectangular room (was it supposed to be a closet?) behind where the beds were. I used to sneak in there when she was gone and stare at it. Talk to it. At first it creeped me out, its crabby, pinchy arms and its on-a-twig eyes, the way it moved. Until one day, when I realized that I had fallen in love with it.
There was an empty shell waiting for him when the one he wore now didn’t fit. I was dying to see him do it. What did he look like without it? What did it feel like? It must hurt when the one your in is too small! It must be scary to switch to the new one! And tiring! What if the new one didn’t work out? He would die without it!
The thing is, I think I knew the answers to some of my questions, because my sister had a book somewhere about it, but I still wondered. I mean, in the wild, hermit crabs have so many shells to choose from. Our guy had just this one. It was that shell or nothin’.
For over a week now, I’ve been wondering if how I feel is how a hermit crab feels, when it’s time and it tears itself from the old shell and somehow gets into that special new one. Or whatever’s around. Shit, I need a new shell! I’m so over my old one!
But really guess what? It turns out I don’t need a shell at all!!!
I have never felt as much love as I do lately. I want to climb into every person I see and plant some there. But at the same time, I am in pain. A new pain. Maybe the best gift I’ve been given in my life. Not maybe, YES. I keep thinking I don’t understand it, but I don’t need to understand it, I just need to FEEL it. To pay attention.
I have a clarity about my life, past and present, that is new. I have seen all of these places where I turned God away. All of the times the archtypes came for me, to hold me, release me, show me something, and I said no. I have seen moments where I thought I was connected and I thought I welcomed the love, when in fact I had not.
I used to see and feel people around me, especially at night. Especially this cloaked man who would sit in my childhood high chair (Which my mother brought to my bedroom for stuffed animals or a plant to sit on after I outgrew it and was ready for my own room.) He would face my bed and stare at me all night. I descided he was a vampire and that there were more (littler ones) under my bed, and I was terrified of him and them and I developed rules for myself to follow so they wouldn’t bite/kill me. Never sleep with my neck exposed, only ONE step from my doorway to the bed, otherwise they could grab me and pull me under. I followed those rules until college.
Once I dreamt that I was with a vampire in a house. We didn’t speak, just stood, almost slow dancing, communicating without words. I wanted him. I loved him. I felt safe with him. He reminded me of the man in my chair. He was the Animus. I swear, all the things I turned to monsters in my head when I was younger were really sent to love me, protect me. I was so scared. I didn’t want to be loved so much. Yet I was overwhelmed with all the love I had to give. I worked so hard to give all I had away, until there was nothing left of/for me. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on within me. For myself. To get some sense, some articultion. I guess that was the hermit crab thing. But today, I was talking to Christa, all over the place and my heart on fire and oozey and free, and I got it. As I spoke, I could feel it so much, it felt like I was melting.
I feel like my heart has broken. Not just broken, but exploded, and instead of being killed, I was left with something new, something fell into me, or more likely it’s been here all this time, buried so deep (left for dead). What I have now is me. Who I really am. But I haven’t known myself in this way, so I feel crazy, so COMPLETELY different, I cannot believe it. And all I want to do is take care of it, this tiny, throbbong, bloming, juicy light that is where my old heart used to be. I want to be quiet and sleepy when it wants me to, and wild and fast and loud when it wants me to. All I want to be is who I am. After a while, I’m sure I’ll get used to me eventually.