My Journey Into the Darkness (and back) - 2016 In Review By D

October 24, 2016 - It all begins...

The down turn of events. He passes away suddenly in her arms, so tragic, so traumatic. She is wounded as deeply as her love for him ran.

I go to her as soon as I can, I make it there in 11 hours. She is broken and my heart aches for her. I hear her heart break with every sob. The first 48 hours is pure torture. My heart hurts for days. I can't eat and sleep evades me as I watch her every move. I can't take my eyes off her.

Hand in hand we survive the first week. I have to leave her for a day, I'm so afraid. Others flood in to hold the family, they all pull together. It's really a tragically beautiful thing to see.

We all celebrate his life and many more come to join us. They come by the dozens from near and far. They continue to come. My heart and my stomach wrench, twisting in pain for her, for us all. Such a strong and brave person to have fallen so quickly and abruptly.

I have to leave her again. I check in constantly, she is not well. And I concern for her health and safety daily. I can not stomach the idea that she will live alone. My gut tells me I must go to her, she is a danger to herself. Her illness is growing and I'm afraid. I can't face losing the other half of my heart.

I have others to care for too. For months I do the bare minimum for them. I can't focus on anyone other than her. I can hear it in her voice and feel it in my soul from 100's of miles away, she is very unwell.

I face battles. I fight wars. I sacrifice a relationship. I battle myself, and my opponents fiercely. She needs me, she needs love. Others in my world suffer, I don't know yet how much I will hurt them and set them aside. I'm doing what needs to be done. A life is on the line.

I come out on top of the battles. I'm wounded and my opponents are too. I don;t have time to think of my wounds now, I must go. I sell it all, give it away, say my goodbyes and shed my tears silently. I will hold that life in y heart and my thoughts so closely. It has allowed me the support and space to grow strong enough to move forward fearlessly. I cry alone silently.... often.

I cry for her, for him, for us all. My wounds come to the surface when all is quiet and dark and I'm alone.

We cry together, a lot. I check in on her late at night. I fear the tonic may be too strong one day and take her to another place too. I'm so afraid. I don't show her, she doesn't need pressure now. Only gentleness, space and love are needed now.

Each day I wake, push my fears, my wounds and my pain way down. I know one day they will surface with a vengeance. But not yet. We are still pushing on. Hand in hand. I'm so proud! She hasn't let go yet, maybe I did the right thing. Is it possible to save someone?

God I hope so...

The sun comes out. There are many more tonics taken to cope. To push through. To survive. It;s ok, we are all surviving the storms that come.

Broken, damaged, scared, exhausted, drained. I'm wounded. Badly.  I feel so alone. I hurt, everyday I'm limping on. I'm no longer strong enough to put on a brave face everyday.

My fatigue turns into impatience with those in closest proximity to me. My wounds feed my demons. They love the tonics too. I know it but I keep feeding them. They grow strong. I grow weaker. Limping through the days is hard. I trip and fall often now. It hurts. They hurt. We all hurt. I fall again and can't get up this time. From my hands and knee's I look up, scanning those around me. They all have wounds too and some are fresh. They are from me.

My heart hurts again...

They don't walk away. I have brief moments of strength or clarity. Just enough to have a conversation or two. I'm exhausted again. I'm so grateful that soe of my opponents are at such a distance, I have no fight left in me.

I look up again. There he stands. His wounds are apparent, still fresh. Very slowly, he reaches for my hand with the most timid smile. Why does he love me after I have wounded him so? He loves me? Really lovesme? Standing at my side, helping me up, holding me firmly until I regain my footing. Fuck, he's my Prince Charming. Not in the fairy tales sense, no, in the most real way. He loves me. His heart is gentle, kind and full of love for me.

Thank you Universe for this gift. I'm so blessed.

I look next to the child's eyes. She's sad, scared, hurt but so kind. We have love like nothing I've experieinced before. We have each other, always. We stand by the others side. Wise beyond her yeras and more strong than many grow people. She's full of life and full of love. The wounds she has will heal. She will grow stronger, she will thrive and weather all the storms. She is a lioness, fierce, strong, beautiful yet so gentle.

My eyes land on her again. Her wings are growing and they are glorious. She never knew what laid dormant in her. The passion is returning to her eyes, to her heart. Her soul is healing. It will never return to what it was, she must grow anew. One day at a time, exploring herself, the world, her emotions. I'm so insanely proud, so happy, even excited.

I think the storms have passed, finally! The winds are dying down, the tonics are fewer, the outbursts and sharp tongues are all subsiding. As the sun once again peaks through the clouds I stand up to breath.

On my feet I inhale deeply. Suddenly, before I can even exhale I'm blind sided by what feels like a freight train. What the hell just happened? I'm face down now. Everything is dark. I'm grasping for something to hold onto as I start to slide down. I can't see. It's rough and painful, I can't stop. Grasping for stability. Gasping for air. It's black here. So dark, there is no one else here. Bouncing off sharp objects along the way, they puncture my frail skin. I'm bleeding, bruised, breathless and alone.

The falling finally stops. I'm completely alone. Scared. Something sharp touches my leg, I kick it, I'm so afraid. I feel something on my hand now, It's burning me. I slap at it, it hrts. I'm so frail. Sensitive and so fearful. It;s still dark and I can't escape. I start feeling around blinded by the darkness. Searching for an escape from this terrifying place. I find nothing. Exhausted again. I submit. I lay down and close my eyes.

Laying still, frozen in defeat. The sharpness touches my leg again. The burning heat touches my hand. I'm paralyzed. It hurts my open skin, piercing and burning me at the same time. I'm so delicate right now. Never before have I felt this defeat. I lay as still as I can, enduring the pain. Small shards lacerate my skin all over my body. Some are deep and some are not, I can feel every single one regardless.

Something bright hits my eyelids. It's so bright, I can't see where it is coming from. I open my eyes slowly, cautiously for fear it will be something with more pain in store for me. It doesn't hurt. It's warm and soft on my skin. My face warms slightly. I climb to my hands and knee's moving towards the source of the light

It's growing bigger. Holy fuck, it cant be a way out can it? I think it is! Steadily moving towards the exit, hopefully I'm right. I make it only to collapse feet before the exit. There I lay for what feels like a week. I sleep.

When I wake I'm in his arms. He's telling me he loves me, I'm so strong, and it will be ok soon. I'm still in pain and afraid but I trust him. He wouldn't lie to me. He's my prince. So warm, he's so gentle with me, conscious of my wounds, protecting them even.

I'm so grateful, I'm on the other side. I rest. A small hand on my leg gentle wakes me. It's the same as the sharp touch from before but it doesn't hurt this time... My childs eyes meet mine. I'm so sorry love. The burning hand is once again holding mine... she's here too, I smile. It's the other half of my heart. And she's healing too.

They all hold me, love me. I'm forever grateful. I want to be gentle, kind and full of love once again.

It's time. I'm ready. I can heal. I will be well again and so I stand. I will not sink, not today. Not ever. I will be a warrior again, soon.

Innocent After All

By C

When did I lose my innocence?  When did the world stop being about discovery and joy?  Was it the first time I felt the blame of someone I trusted?  Or was it a slow progression of self-doubt and denial of desire?  It happens.  We are taught that the world is flawed; that we are flawed.  We forget ourselves and learn to fear the thorns rather than appreciate the flower.

We create story after story about our role in the world.  Everything becomes a big drama of control and blame and fear and possessiveness.  Challenges to our story become threats that could potentially take away the things we've claimed as mine.  And how dare someone challenge my story and question the drama of me!

An open question of concern from a friend becomes treason.  The slow traffic on the way to work is a personal attack.  And my job.  Well isn't that the ultimate betrayal?  My work is but another source of frustration and challenge to who I want to be. 

Being challenged is incredibly uncomfortable.  I recoil from the questions of self-doubt that arise.  My skin itches and thoughts prickle; begging for release from the discomfort that being me has become.  I want out.  I feel everyone's eyes on me.  Questioning what is happening and why I'm struggling.

I see a way out.  A way to redirect the attention.  I look to who or what sparked these feelings and create a story of blame.  I pour my heart into the words, feeling a small amount of relief as I tell my story to anyone who will listen and then justice as they appear to believe me.  

I keep pushing the story.  Pointing fingers and drawing lines in the sand. You either support my story or you're against me; becoming another chapter I'll write to support my version of how I want to be seen in the world.

Everything is out of control as my thoughts and feelings escalate to new levels of blame.  The villains of my story become selfish tyrants out to destroy my happiness.  They care nothing for me, or anyone else for that matter.  I lash out, now justified in my attack.

But my skin still itches.  And my thoughts still prickle.  Something isn't right.  The once-engaged audience has grown bored and is likely now engaged in their own drama of right and wrong.

In the quiet I realize that the temporary relief I felt in telling my story was just a distraction from deeper feelings of inadequacy.  Now my thoughts turn to the fear of loss.  I fear the loss of self-importance and my need to be right.  In truth, I fear the loss of my illusions.  

I can't take the discomfort of being in my own skin any longer and push against the surface.   Cracks begin to form.  An overwhelming urge to move and yell and laugh takes me over.  And so I do.  Slowly at first, then all at once, the cracks split me open.  Wide awake now, I watch the illusions that plagued me gently drift away.

When it comes, this loss of illusion, I feel nothing but calm.  Rather than having my world cave in I am set free.  The torment of fear is replaced with lightness and an understanding that the story I previously believed is no longer true.

I look to the source of my frustrations and laugh at the ridiculousness of my previous blame.  Everything around me is exactly as it was before.  But now I am different.  I've felt the freedom in letting go of my need to be right and prefer this lightness over the self-righteous indignation that previously soured my thoughts.

I begin to see that my personal challenges are nothing but mirrors; a reflection of those parts of me that beg acceptance and release.  My blames of selfishness are nothing but my own lack of responsibility.

I breathe deeply the knowledge that there is a better way.  Free for the moment of my constrictive self I feel only acceptance and gratitude.  A love for what is and how it has challenged me.

Perhaps it was all just a big misunderstanding.  A misguided belief that I need to blame and fear the thorns that tear at me.  To see the challenges as roadblocks rather than catalysts.  Maybe I'm still innocent after all.