Begin at the

who can find beginnings nowadays? One story unfurls into ten, many of which could reach all the way back into . . . nothing or everything. I find myself quickly getting into those equivocal thoughts.

Trauma is on my mind tonight. That word's changed for me in the past year. Before, trauma was extreme, untouchable, and, hopefully, rare. I thought of it in short blasts because acknowledging a trauma (like depression) that went on for three years just sounded horrific. Nevertheless, I thought it meant (like depression) a surrendering and suffering. In short, helplessness.

I've opened up to acknowledging more frequent traumas, and softening the word so that I have a place to reside with it, or in it. Trauma is still a marking, an impression on my body and in my mind. It's mostly unconscious, I think. But it doesn't immediately lead to scarrification. I think of it as a kind of slow absorption, and I think I can perhaps acknowledge it, chart it, I don't know.

But honestly, it makes sense to me that a body goes through traumas more regularly than we realize.

Shifts in friendship, place, or perspective -- for better or worse -- are traumatic. They require a drastic physical/emotional/psychological adaptation.

Most of all, I like the idea that being open to recognizing trauma might give me some time to breathe in it. And not suffocating is key, in general.