I’ve been treading water for so long now, I’ve been waiting for you to swim with me.
You’ve been so busy trying to save a sinking ship.
Trying to prove your worth.
Trying to justify your right to breathe air.
You didn’t notice the storm coming.
I don’t have to prove anything. I know I have the right to breathe, I just don’t know if I have the ability or the strength to hold on.
When the storm comes through to split the hull and the shattered the remnants of your valiant effort sink, you can find me among the ruins at the bottom of the sea and I’ll show you that there was never anything to prove.
I’m raw. You wouldn’t know it to look at me. I look normal. A little irritated; not so happy. My eyes are a little puffy and slightly pink around the edges.
But I feel broken, raw and sensitive. Words hurt. Sounds hurt.
My mood swings back and forth on a normal day but I feel like someone dropped the pendulum about 20 feet and when I went swinging into the deep end, I scraped my ass on the coral and got salt water up my nose. My insides are burning raw and my body aches. Hope is hiding somewhere in the shadows.
I spent 2 days sobbing. Whole days. Not just moments of frustration or quick tears in the shower. 2 whole days where it felt like my heart was replaced with a black hole that sucked up every hopeful thought, every ounce of light and love that passed in my direction.
*It’s not PMS. That was 2 weeks ago. I was a raving bitch for a day but not sad.*
I spent 2 days questioning and regretting every decision I’ve made in the last 10 years.
Two days of hyper extreme social anxiety coupled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and isolation.
I couldn’t even watch TV because seeing the interaction; the camaraderie; people with friends and enemies, quandaries and conversations made me feel like a background character in my own life.
The oddest thing was that it wasn’t 2 consecutive days. I had 2 really happy and productive days in between.
Both days I was focused on Amphitrite and her Spirit doll when the sadness hit me like a tidal wave.
Do you know how hard it is to embroider with seed beads when your eyes are dripping?
When I was 24 I was married with 3 kids under the age of 5. Peter Pan was just a wee bairn. I had no job and a husband who didn’t want to be around. I was tired, overwhelmed and depressed.
Not like tears and despair depressed; more like a dirty grey mop water depressed, mostly numb.
I wasn’t really sad and I was never really happy. I didn’t care one way or another about anything.
Kids flooded the toilet, of course they did,,,,grab the mop and plunger.
Idiot won a raffle, that’s nice, don’t spend it all in one place.
I gained weight and let myself go for a good year when it finally bothered me that I was never really happy. I got this idea that in order to feel the level of happy that I wanted to feel, I had to be willing to feel it’s equals in other directions, like sad or angry.
And then it clicked that I didn’t feel happy because I was afraid to feel sad.
When the Princess was born a few years earlier, I suffered from a pretty rough case of postpartum depression that lasted a good 6 months. It was a textbook, stereo- typed depression with tears and despair and can’t-get-out-of-bed-to-take-care-of-my-kids and suicidal ideations.
By the Grace of the Goddesses (even though I didn’t know them then) I pulled myself out of it because no one was around to help.
And subsequently I was (am) always afraid to sink that low again.
I had to learn to feel sad again, I had to learn to feel angry again. I had to learn to allow myself to feel what I feel without judgement and trust that it would pass.
And oh boy did I swing wildly for a while.
(I probably could’ve been diagnosed with a Bipolar disorder if anyone had been around to insist I get help)
I eventually evened out, took control of my life, learned to love me and all that jazz.
This past week has felt like that time of swinging wildly.
Each day as I surfaced again, stinging raw and sensitive, Amphitrite is there with a Mary Poppins nod as if to say, “That’ll do.”
She is a Sea Goddess so I’m not surprised that she’d be dragging me into the deep. I’m just not sure why.
My first idea is for energy clearing, working out old issues: i.e. isolation, lack of community, feeling powerless. Not that any analytical explanation helps when your drowning in despair….but It’s nice to know that the other half of my brains is still working fine.
Amphitrite herself isn’t saying much. She feels like a stern teacher that just needs to get through this lesson plan before she can head out for a week in the Bahamas.
Just when I thought I was on the upswing and that I could finish the Spirit Doll without any more emotional disruptions, a new development happened that almost sent me back to depths.
Fast Eddie got a new job. It’s a wonderful opportunity to develop a career, make more money and travel . It’s also an hour and half away. He informed me that in the next month or so he would be looking for a roommate and an apartment closer to his job.
I knew that he would....and that he should, but hearing it jostled my sense of stability. I took a deep breath and waited for the shoreline to recede; the ominous sign of a tidal wave…..
And then I decided I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want this particular situation to drag me to the bottom of the sea. I didn’t want to feel hopeless and lonely and lost in the background of my life.
I heard a collective sigh from the Goddess on the porch.
Amphitrite smiled, and I knew at that moment, she didn’t want to be stern or cold or distant but I needed this lesson.
Tough Love, Goddess style.
I’m still fragile. I’m still shaky. Still a little battered and bruised. One does not weather a hurricane with out a few scars, but I feel like I’m ready to move forward.
And I was able to finish Her Spirit Doll.