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These truths are like little pieces of me. I am not any one of them, but all of them collected. I wonder briefly if I am putting myself back together.

I say this because I have been having conversations today about my black and white way of perceiving. When people point it out to me, and it happens with some frequency that people do, I feel a bit like a fish who can’t identify the water within which it swims. There is some fundamental way that I just don’t get it. I know it ought to make sense, but it’s as though the words are meaningless, just empty shells of sound people say, my ears hear, and my mind cannot interpret.

I am frustrated. I am confused. I am tired of feeling like I just don’t know.

There is this feeling of rightness I get sometimes when I know that the step I am taking along my path is the one I need to be taking. I miss feeling it.

My therapist tells me that I am integrating. She says this with a big smile on her face. She looks proud of me.

I know more than I think I do. I am more than what I think or feel in any given moment. I am not just this truth, but all the ones that have come before and all those yet to come.

I am expanding. I am contracting.

And at least for tonight, right now in this one moment, I don’t feel as though I understand much of any of it.