Sometimes you don’t even realize what you have been running from, or for how long.
Until the night (why is it always at night?) it knocks you down, sits on your chest and forces you to stare directly into the eye of the storm. The night when you turned your head too casually and found it, there, staring at you from your peripheral. Angry for being ignored, pained for not being nurtured.
It is on this night that you pay for the days, months, (years in my case) of composure, the relief you have culled from choosing to ignore your demons.
And oh, I paid dearly.
Six years ago, I woke up from anesthesia an altered woman.
I have never allowed myself to mourn what I lost that day and how much of my soul has been scraped away since. I have been too busy ‘looking forward’ and ‘moving on’ and ‘being thankful’. I have kept a smile on my face and I have continued to placate myself with thoughts of ‘it could be so much worse’ (it could) and ‘I still have more than others’ (I do). But last night night, I was not thinking of how much worse it could be, but how bad it is, not caring that I don’t have it as bad as others because my situation is looking worse by the day.
And it all fell down. My feelings of frustration and inadequacy. My overwhelming pain over never being able to do what I always thought I would and could do.
It honestly became exhausting to hold down my feelings about losing part of my body, of being let down for the past four years by other parts of it. My arms and my heart gave out from the weight of it all. I have been holding my hand over that little girl’s mouth for too long but last night she was allowed to wail and cry and stomp her feet for what she has lost. For the life she felt promised, but was never and may never be fulfilled. For being the exception to the rule and for being held at arms length from almost every goal she ever set for herself.
Today, yes, I will try to get back to my zen, a place of acceptance and a place where I can build from.
Last night though, was about how much has been lost and destroyed.
While our particulars may be different, I can still completely understand what you are describing here. I have been the woman who held her hand over the inner child’s mouth, stifling her cries.
What a relief it was when I finally let go, and cried until I couldn’t breathe anymore. It was after that moment that I was actually able to BREATHE again, and to try to start living again.
I wish you all the best-that you will truly be able to build on today.
what a beautiful post, that’s all i can say. just beautiful.
My thoughts and prayers are with you. As tough as it is, letting the grief out can be freeing. Good luck.
i so get this, and yet am SO NOT READY to fucking face it!
i didn’t lose any part of my body, but a part of my heart and soul
and i am SO NOTREADY to …to what?
scream, shout, really deal?
stop hiding the feelings and anesthetizing myself, stop fucking up my life and my son’s….
i love this site, and i SO FUCKING HATE IT TOO….
i read, and i can’t respond, because even tho we are all so different we are the same.and there is joy and madness in that.
back together again.
thanks, i think, becky.
wow, i read this post days ago and i keep coming back to it. like so many of us, i have gone through some ridiculous struggles in the past only to discover i love my life. but still, it’s hard. sometimes the darkness takes over, no matter how strong or positive you think you are. and this essay captures that feeling perfectly. thank you.
Wow. Just WOW.