I am battling a skin issue. First of all, my gums get inflamed, perplexing the dentist. Then little blisters start forming on my arm and hands, breaking into lesions that don’t heal, and that itch, itch, itch. And my palms … the slightest pressure creates painful and itchy welts and weals.
As if I’m doing hard labor.
As if I’m holding on for dear life.
And in between all the doctors, all the tests, all the bafflement, the realization strikes me:
I am holding on too tight.
Look at my hands and you can see it, palms marked as if by the death grip of a survivor. So painful from the effort that now I can’t hold on to anything without hurting, not a hairbrush, not a broom – hands opening up reflexively to let go.
And I have to wonder: what is my body trying to tell my spirit?
I think I know.