Well, I just fell through the ice again.
Before, it felt like i was drowning. then it started to feel like i was walking on very thin ice, every little thing would cause my foot to break through but i could usually keep from falling in, and if i did fall in, i could climb back out. Stressful, frightening, but manageable.
For the last couple of months, i have been falling in and going under, surfacing, panicking, then pulling myself out fairly easily. But it was happening more often, and i was starting to be afraid of the next fall. wondering if i would make it across the ice to the other side, where the journey seems to be on more solid ground.
Then last weekend, i fell through and was battered and bashed for awhile. Way more intense than any fall since last year. I was scared. i sent a message to someone, and asked to talk to someone else. Neither worked out.
i did the silent scream, crying so hard, so silently, in the bathroom so that no one would know, that i burst a blood vessel in my eye. i felt like my mind was out of control. i felt like there must be something terribly wrong with me.
But i think there isn't. i read something. well, lots of things. but it seems to boil down to:
there isn't a 'reason', i am not 'damaged', there is nothing to 'fix'. I am trying to ignore fear. i am trying to do it alone. and people aren't meant to do it all alone.
father nilus of birchdale was telling the story of how, after a 12 hr shift at the ER, as an older gentleman, he had to drive an open 16-foot boat across 2.7 km of open lake, in the dark, through snowstorms to get home.
And how he learned to find his way by following the direction of the waves, by noticing the changes in wind and waves as he drew near the point, how he would look for the light that was his window, where his wife waited for him.
At the time, i could only think that the journey, exhausted/cold/afraid, into blind darkness full of terrors, was my daily journey, and never seemed to end. sometimes i could see a light in the distance and feel the strength to carry on, often i couldn't see the light, but carried on anyway. and sometimes i was so tired and in such pain, that i gave up for awhile.
but i always managed to keep going. the thought of someone waiting at home for me kept me trying.
usually, when anyone says ' but you are strong, you have survived everything that has happened ', i would cry. i did not feel strong. i KNEW that i had been giving up. that it was only luck that i didn't die.
but maybe now i will think that i am strong, that i always keep going, even when i am terrified.
because there is someone waiting at home for me.
that my fear is the terror in the dark, the mind out of control, the crazy.
that if i can just find someone to tell, the fear will diminish. someone will be there waiting on the other side for me. Or they will be with me, in the boat, as i battle my demons, so i won't be so alone.
because its the fear of being alone and unable to cope that does me in.
My hubby said once 'We will do this together' and i try to hang on to that. i forget for awhile, but then i remember.
i reframe, i tell myself that i am strong, i am not alone. i cry because it doesn't feel true, but i keep telling myself, and eventually i climb out of the water and back on to the ice.
this time i was exhausted, i felt like i had had the sh** kicked out of me, but i was back on the ice, still walking.
i was strong.
it is time to find my tribe. the people who can stand with me.
