Getting Up. Getting Ready.

Rainbows are one of the signs that tell me that everything is working out (apart from numbers and other bits and pieces that the Universe throws at me). And I’ve seen quite a few in recent days and weeks. The tarots don’t lie. Ever. Yet right now, I feel that everything is just hard. Getting up in the morning. Taking care of myself. Believing that everything is going to work out, just like all the readings have said. Believing that the emotions and feelings that arose in me during my relationship can ever be cured, or disempowered, or controlled, or released. They’re so strong. They’re so powerful and intertwined with thoughts that feel intrinsic to me.

I suppose I know deep down they are the symptoms. Symptoms of underlying wounds that have yet to see the light of day. Wounds that need to be aired. Recognised. Acknowledged, validated, listened to…..relived and grieved. It doesn’t fill me with joy knowing what’s to come. It fills me with dread, to be honest. Believe me, whilst I am not one to turn my back on a challenge or a fight, it’s not to say that revisiting certain events, or moments that have triggered me is going to be easy. It’s not. There’s been moments when I’ve even caught myself avoiding doing exactly that.

Confronting.

Recognising.

Acknowledging.

Validating.

Grieving.

Understanding.

It’s incredibly draining. Draining to the point where some nights the tears have flowed and I plead with the Universe to give me some respite from it all. The rage, indignation and anger come pouring out – I’ve fucking had enough!!! Why did this shit have to affect me so much!!! Why did it have to happen to me??? Why can’t I be free of this???

Why can’t I have a peaceful, loving life….?

…..and then I remind myself that I am no victim. It simply happened. I was affected by it, deeply, and that’s that. My path is this one and only I can walk it. My head bows as I know that this is my cross to bear for now, that I just have to keep plodding on. It’s a difficult balance between validating past hurts, acknowledging that certain things happened to you that shouldn’t have, and staying in that victim mode. It’s hard, actually, to step out of being a victim after being one in so many instances in life. In the end, if you believe you’re a victim, then a victim you will be, and your life will be spent validating that belief. Fuck that.

Regarding the above, what I’ve come to realise, for me, is that until you bring these moments of hurt out into the open and you have them validated as being wrong, being unjust or even being worthy of a lasting effect on you – in my case by my therapist (it’s worth mentioning that I didn’t have clarity on what I’d lived through as being ‘wrong’) – then the victim status lays active. Maybe not in your day to day, but it’s there, and real. It’s like a trial that was never held for the perpetrator that did you wrong, and got away with it.

Even on a personal level we seek a kind of justice, for ourselves, for our own self-worth. A primordial instinct for self-preservation.

Anyway, moving on.

 ………………

It's hard to find strength. Especially after years of ‘work’. Especially when you think you’ve come so far only to realise that you’ve only climbed what was actually a hill and the real mountain is up ahead…… and all this while you were just walking to base camp. The monster lies in front.

Acclimatising, getting used to the terrain, adjusting to the taxing altitude, collecting your climbing tools along the way that you’ll eventually use to get to the summit. The map, you notice, has only just been given to you. The route is vague. You’ll need to develop new skills as you climb. There are bits that are scary. Really scary.

Anyway. That’s where I am now. Basecamp. Knackered. Alone. Nobody can come on the journey with me. The therapist and other key (amazing, wonderful) people who have been helping me on my journey can only stay in contact via radio. They can’t come along. And those radios, I know those radios are going to be out of range on parts of the mountain. The most desolate parts. The most dangerous parts. The parts where you wish you could have a helping hand. Faith, again. That’s where faith’s hand will help.

Having and keeping Faith is hard…..

I’m letting my mind adjust to the lack of oxygen, my eyes to the UV rays and to the bright white light, my feet to the cold. It seems that everything about this landscape is here to make me feel uncomfortable. I’m mustering my strength and resolve to start the climb. The task looms over me. A good friend of mine once said to me in his dulcet Yorkshire accent – ‘don’t try and eat the Elephant, just take a nibble of its ear’. Sage words indeed.

I have no idea how long this will take. I have no idea where the path will take me. I have no idea if I will succeed. I know nothing apart from that I will just keep on going. No matter what. I owe it to myself and my family. I daren’t think of success. There’s too much in front. Focus on the now I keep telling myself, what’s in my control (kind of).

The uncertainty kills me. It’s a failsafe for me – having certainty in everything – it’s a control mechanism I’ve developed to mitigate unknowns, to mitigate fear. But it’s all an illusion. The control. Certainty is just an illusion. It’s in the uncertainty that the miracles happen. Faith. Again. Have to have faith.

………….

There’s an underlying thought that I always come back to. It was one forged after the death of my dad. That if I could navigate death, I could navigate anything. And whilst that moment left me changed and marked forever, a moment which I will have to return to, to heal the wounds it created, I also know that it forged me into someone resilient. Dogged. Determined. Relentless. I hold on to that once more, like I used to.

…………..

Soon I move to another part of London, one with which I fell in love with earlier this year. The flat I found was, without doubt, meant for me, and whilst I’m paying through the nose for it, it has a nice garden and I feel it’ll be perfect for me to cocoon, write, heal, break down, rebuild and so on. Having a sacred place to rest, find comfort and recuperate is essential in any healing process. Find yours. If you don’t have one already, make it, do everything you can to create your sanctuary, your safe place that you’ll come back to, over and over and over again. The place where you’ll find respite. The place that will give you the energy to go again.

The weather on the mountain has prevented me from starting, there’s been many clouds in the mind and heart. Not yet. I have to be patient. In the meantime I will eat, rest, plan and prepare. And write.

Not much more to do.

Thanks for reading. Love you all.

J