She walks

Went for a walk. Nice to hear the wind in the poplar trees again. It was sunny and beautiful. I had hoped for some rain though, that means less people around.
A while ago I remembered that when I was a kid I used to go for walks as well, long walks, exploring, or just walking and thinking. Keeping near trees, high grass or water. It kept me (relatively) sane.
But at the time I wasn't as apprehensive regarding other people yet, not as much as recently. I'm always on guard nowadays, apart from the rare occasions when I feel good and there's a rhythm to my gait.
I keep looking around, checking people. Can’t relax.
Apart from that, walking seems to be a way for working stuff out in my mind, as if I have to keep my body busy so my mind can wander freely. Music helps too. Listening to music gives me that little extra shield between me and the world (people), and entertains the superficial part of my mind, so the subconscious can do it’s thing, and it always does.
After twenty minutes of walking bits of memories started to rise to the surface. I felt them. It wasn’t simply a repetition, I felt the pain and shame and abandonment. That’s a good thing. Not just for the book – what kind of a bone-dry story would it be if I merely recounted events and details, without the deeper feelings. For me it’s a sign that the process which started in those lovely peaceful weeks when my neighbours were away is continuing even though they’ve returned.
That’s a good thing, it means my general state of being is now, despite all fears and stress factors, relaxed enough to allow old pain to surface. When it comes to the surface it’s ready to be released.
Unfortunately it didn’t rain, so when I felt tears welling up in my eyes and saw someone approaching I observed how I consciously withdrew the hurt. Like sucking in air. I saw myself doing it and wondered how often I’ve done that very same thing when I was young and there were no opportunities to let go, to let the hurt be.
I’ll pass on writing down the memory this time, that’s not always the right thing to do. God, it’s taking me ages just to get this little episode ‘on paper’.
I sucked the pain back in several times during the walk. Something did change though; I sat on a bench a little while later, looking at the canal, the wind making waves in the grass, and when people passed the place I was sitting I made an effort not to put on my cheery face. My ‘everything’s just fine, thank you, nothing to see here, walk on, walk on’-face. I stayed as I was; bit slumped, looking downward. No smile. That’s a big deal to me!
An abundance of experiences taught me it’s dangerous to show any weakness in public. A stroll in a quiet area is still in public. At home I can cry, softly because I don’t want the neighbours to rejoice, but other than that it’s safe.

It’s good, it’s a good thing this process, this progress. Still, I’d love a hug sometimes, feel so damn lonely. Damaged. This controlled unravelling would be great with two strong protective arms around me, it’s all I ever wanted anyway. Someone to protect me and keep me safe. Guess that someone will have to be me.