Ah yes, there you are… I’ve been waiting for you. You’re so familiar in the way you slowly make your way back into my life, creeping in at the edges, just dark enough to let me know you’re there, just camouflage enough to allow me to carry on regardless… for now. I feel you in the slow unravelling of everything around me, the gradual tightening of my chest, the thoughts that happen at the periphery of my mind becoming vaguer and more distant, like I can see them but I can’t quite grasp hold of what they are. I recognise you in the way I am distracted and unfocussed, I can’t sit still and yet I feel lethargic and unmotivated to do anything actually useful. And I see you in the way my relationships start to feel as if they’re fraying a little, because I can’t express what’s really going on inside me, because, actually, there IS no way to explain it. And because I am not fully here.
For a few days I’ve been sitting with a picture in my head of me, sitting on a beach looking out to sea. I can see the swell coming, yet I am rooted to my spot, waiting, waiting, waiting for a tidal wave of grief and fear to hit and sweep me away. This time, at least, it all feels a little clearer. Grief at what I am walking away from, fear at the lack of clarity of what I am walking towards.
This was inevitable. I knew that. The excitement of all the possibilities of ‘what could be’ had to dissipate eventually, so that the reality of how/when/where/what could take centre stage. And this is where I’m at right now, floundering slightly in the shallows of all the unknown answers, not feeling quite brave enough to take a deep breath and dive back into the depths of allowing what to be to…well… just be.
So, here I am, sitting with your shadowy self slowly getting larger, looming ever greater over my edges and creeping in gently to my core. I’m starting to feel my heart close up a little, questioning all that it’s seen, felt, envisioned over the last few months to get to where we are now. I’m beginning to doubt the clarity I felt until so recently, the assuredness of what I am choosing to do, the strength of my soul’s calling.
A wise woman tells me that the stillness and the beauty in the mountains is always within me, wherever I am, and of course she is right. If I just make time for myself to be in nature, to sit in silence, to close my eyes and take myself back there, all that beauty and calm is instilled in me once again. And I can remember how to trust… to let go… and know that all will be well.
If only I would make that time for myself more…