I’ve made a commitment to share my fears in hopes that there is some thin veil of a lesson. How easy it is when I share from retrospect. It’s censored. It’s safe. However, I’m not a fan of safe. How can I grow if I stay with what is comforting rather than what challenges me? Oh, yah, I can’t. So, here I am sharing my thoughts and experiences as I face my greatest fear, the death of my mother, my best friend and most certainly, a soulmate.
“The deeper that sorrow carves in your being, the more joy you can contain.” - Kahlil Gibran
Have you ever felt run over by a Mac Truck? Emotionally, I mean. For me, that’s how the month of June has felt like, being continuously hit by a semi. Most embarrassing part is that I used to toss around the word “intense” in conversations yet only now, do I know what that means. Maybe, it’s a redefinition and that’s part of dealing with life, but this seems irrelevant.
It was such a gorgeous day in San Francisco, no wind, no fog, just sunshine. I was on an adventure just 60 miles from my home. Although close, the city still felt like a different world. I loved these days; I’d hang out in the Marina usually at a bar with an upside down pig as its logo. All the twenty and thirty somethings, career bound and city struck, would crowd around the wood and glass. I’d sit there with my strawberry ambrosia, watching the people around me, writing in my journal and catching bits of conversations that whirled about the room.
In my personal experience, the one thing most essential to becoming healthy is something so simple that most people forget about it. It is available to all and owned by no one. What I’m speaking about ever so cryptically is the notion of hope. To me, it is the bridge between self-destruction and healthiness, desolation and happiness.
I remember the moment that I truly realized how mean I was to myself. Granted, I always knew that I was self-destructive, but for some reason, I failed to connect the dots in regards to what that meant. It was my first retreat to Bodega Bay with my community service group. There were more than 30 girls in a single house, all of us connected by a desire to help the children in our area. We laughed, played games, worked on business for the following year, and discussed issues that our club was facing. I felt close to all and bonded with a few.