The truth of it …
It’s been a rough few weeks.
And because I must always be honest in order to feel any serenity at all – I’m sharing an ugly part of it with you.
Last month I shared that I lost my job – since then my son gained one. He’s been away a lot, staying with my mom in a neighboring State to cut down on his commute.
I on the other hand, had been home a lot, and his absence filled every room with a palpable foreshadowing.
I then received an urgent call from my landlady.
She was warning me that she had finally presented my nightmare neighbors with paperwork, and that it did not go well and they were angry with me apparently.
The truth of it was that after all the traffic, drugs, domestic violence and general disregard for the community – the community had had enough.
She tried to tell them that it was more than one complaint from more than one neighbor. But they had decided the closest to them was the snitch.
I knew what they were capable of, so to learn this was in short, terrifying.
My routine had to change – I feared they might harm Butters, my dog, in my absence. I feared another attack on my car during the night. I wasn’t so concerned about them breaking in and doing me bodily harm, but still had a hard time falling to sleep – and am keeping weapons at my bedside.
Add to this that I found myself in the middle of a triangle of toxicity when it came to matters of the heart.
I was lonely. Scared. Had too much time to think and had too many things going on – my serenity was shot and my stomach cramped with emotional discomfort while my heart ached.
Night after night I looked across at an empty couch.
It isn’t so much that Nicholas wasn’t sitting on it. He’s spreading his beautiful wings and while I miss him, I’m proud of his ability to fly.
It was that nobody was sitting on it.
Problem is, I know myself well enough to know that I don’t want anyone constantly on the couch across from me – and yet I was lonely.
I walked around the house in a fog.
One night – as I was taking my medicine, I had the thought ‘I could take ALL of my medicine.’
This thought didn’t hang uncomfortably in the air – it blended into the room as if it belonged there.
I could take ALL the medicine and cease to be.
At that moment of time, I was terrifyingly okay with that.
I felt I’ve seen and done more than 100 lifetimes. I felt my role in my son’s life was shrinking to nonexistence. I felt I would never be loved the way that I loved. I felt so completely depleted of all my hopes and energy that I had nothing further to do here.
And God how I love life!
I have SUCH gratitude for my humble shelter – the food in my kitchen – the pictures in clouds and the beauty of weeds. I seek out good everywhere I look – I love to the nth degree and I cherish every friend and loved one in my life.
And still I stood staring down thinking ‘I could take ALL of my medicine.’
It breaks my heart.
But at the same time, there was a beauty in letting myself feel that pain and hopelessness – I knew I was being what I always strive to be. Authentic.
I wasn’t brushing the thought away like an annoying gnat with a ‘Don’t be silly.’
I KNEW I would not do it. I knew this. But I knew the thought was very, very real and could not be discounted.
It forced me to look at, then let out – all my pent-up emotions.
It forced me to stop for a moment – without flitting from dishes to dog and errands to emails and look myself, literally in the eyes.
I stood at the mirror, leaned over my bathroom sink and noticed myself.
There she was.
A real person who had been wearing herself so thin and worrying herself physically sick.
Miss independent – unsure if she could provide. Miss solitary – needing company. Miss brave – afraid to go outside.
And as Butters looked sadly at me, missing her boy – and not understanding why she had to be locked in the house all day – I felt completely lost and vulnerable.
But I felt.
And I always do – so deeply.
And though sadness overwhelms me – so does joy. I love in vibrant color with a panchromatic heart.
And I am content with ‘enough’ and I do not want ‘ALL’.
I could poetically end there – but that would not be honest.
Things are looking up, they always do.
There is always hope waiting for those who can look at their lives and choose to live it.
I have an amazing job opportunity just around the corner, although, I’ll probably always have a healthy fear of not being able to provide the necessities.
I’m still sleeping with several weapons at my bedside, but so far so good as far as the neighbors go.
I’m still lonely, but this is a good thing for me! I used to think I didn’t have the capacity to need anyone. Craving human interaction is definitely a step in a healthy direction.
I have incredible friends that love me and show up.
I have a loving family that I can count on.
The world is so beautiful – and the universe is carving new paths all the time.
And I’m willing to walk them.