I feel lonely. Like 98% of the time, I feel like I’m missing some connection with someone. I shouldn’t feel this way. I have friends. I have family. I am online and have online friends. But I constantly feel alone. I feel like I’m not understood, and it’s not like I blame anyone, because I […]
How deeply poignant, our struggle to “accept”. How painfully overwhelming to wrestle with surges of agonizing grief, the black ocean of shame, the fear of what may come, or the steadfast desire to make things right.
We know beyond any doubt, and from our own experience, that some kind of acceptance would resolve, at least to a degree, the ferocity of the conflict within us. And yet, the imperative to hang on to our idea of how things should be is so strong that it feels as though our very identity will die if we even imagine moving into harmony with our pain.
And, there is a measure of truth in that.
There is courage in the struggle for what is right. There is an uplifting quality to our fervor when we plant the flag of outrage and refuse to move from it. It makes us feel as though the ground beneath our feet has…
One of his most poignant verses reminds us that we are never just one thing, and all the quirks, imperfections, and contradictions are par for the course. Never have I found anything to be more true.
These past 10 days have been full. Fuller than any other 10 in nearly as many years. I have been stung by old words, hurt by forgotten pain, challenged by new beliefs and blessed by the coming together of a Heavenly Ask.
One day, 10 days ago, I got down on my knees and cried. A deep, wrenching, private cry full of despair and anguish and hopelessness. I’ve cried this cry before. But this time it was different. My heart had finally hit the threshold of weight it could carry and it was more than I believed it could bare. Suicide was more than a thought. I can not lie. It loomed. Large but silent. And I wondered if maybe it was truly time to just end things.
My. Life. Had. Finally. Become. Just. Too. Much.
But, as has happened before, once again, the tiny voice of my broken child stamped her foot loudly and yelled, “No Trish! We can do this! We deserve so much more. And we haven’t done what we were put here to do yet. We have a purpose! And we still have a fucking best seller to write. Damn it!” She gets pissy when I go dark.
So, as I have done before, I listened to her.
But something inside felt badly broken. And solemnly irreparable.
I’d truly lost all hope. I was tired. Worn. Ragged. Bruised. And feeling beaten.
It took a lot to let her in.
I’m not really the praying kind. Though that might change now. I have a very confused relationship with God. But I have always believed that something is looking out for she and I. And always has been. Or we would never have survived this Life.
So…on bended knees I clasped my hands.
And I spoke to God Universe.
Pleading from a place so deep and so raw and so achingly real, that I know it was my souls voice in askance, and not that of this mere mortal shell. I do believe we are the two things at once. Maybe even three. What the fuck do I know? But I closed my eyes. Wept. And spoke from that place only the truly desperate understand.
I asked God Universe, “Please show me my path because I am so lost and so confused and so unable to see any light. It’s dark. And cold. And I feel alone. I am drifting to a place I fear I may never return from. My heart is heavy. My mind is clouded by things I can’t let go of. And my soul and I have disconnected. So, I’m letting go of all of it and trusting that you will guide me to wherever it is I need to be and to whatever it is I need to do.”
Three days later my life changed.
Like BIG BANG! changed.
I watched. I listened. I paid attention. And I did not ignore the signs. Any of them. I did the work and moved out of fear. And miraculously, I started to feel my power rise to the surface. It was…
Nope. No words yet for this feeling.
But I trusted. In the Divine.
And felt myself truly acknowledging belief in Me.
And that was an unfucking-believable moment. It was…
Nope. No words for that one either.
But for the first time ever, everything felt almost…easy.
Something had definitely cleared the path.
Like a cool, clean ocean breeze. Blowing through my mind with gentleness and forgiveness and love.
And over the past 10 days Life has been constantly changing and rushing at me with un-imagined abundance.
I am still in awe.
But I trust in Life again. And it is beautiful.
And I am grateful.
But I don’t think so.
Shakespeare suggests, through his character Hamlet, that human knowledge is limited. I’d have to agree. And every moment that I spend in gratitude, I know the words he wrote are a pure, profound yet simple truth. I loved them when I first read them, and I love them still. Because they are so so true!
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
God Universe truly does work in mysterious and amazingly unexpected ways.
Lately I’ve been feeling my personal/emotional worldview slipping from one kalidescope into another. Things I once knew with such certainty are now hovering on the fringe of doubt. And things I was absolutely positive would never be entertained by this seven dimensional mind, are springing into view lively and energetic.
In part, I am saddened by the loss of feelings and beliefs I’ve clutched close to my hearts core like a frayed and tattered lifeline. While old and definitely showing signs of age and wear, it has pushed me thru necessary conflict, always reliable and safe. And a constant companion for so long. Growing me, changing me, elvolving me and challenging me in unimaginable ways. A reliable, steadfast friend who seemed to have my best interest at heart. It’s a hard loss to comprehend.
And in part, I am excited to move into a new personal/emotional worldview because it means….
Not sure what it is about traveling on the bus that makes me feel so nostalgic. Perhaps, because a good part of this life has been spent on buses traveling from one life to another. One family to another. One lover to another. Seeking identity. Searching for kindness. Wanting love. Moving in between the grays of safety and abuse.
Feels like I’ve been doing this a long time. Chasing a thing. Running from a thing. A lonely traveler carrying a bag packed with little pieces of me. Faithfully transient. A contemplative companion to the lonely roads I see through rainswept windshields.