It feels like flipping a light switch when my mind gets flooded with the overwhelming thoughts of fear.
The thoughts that begin to exclaim my unworthiness and disastrous life, telling me that I am, and at no point will be, able to live the life that I dream of.
It feels as if the dam that was keeping me in alignment with the light of my soul gets crushed by the waves of destruction—taking me out feet first.
Drowning in the overbearing idea that I have no idea what I am doing. I close my eyes, fall to my knees, and to the floor that I so desperately hope will keep holding me when I am unable to do so myself.
I push my back into the sturdiness of the solid ground, it becomes my reminder that I am not meant to be falling forever.
I grab the pillow that lies under my head at night, using it to express all the rage and disbelief my mind is overwhelmed with. Screaming loudly into the softness of the subtle feathers placed inside a case. Screaming it all out that I am unable to carry in that moment—it is no longer mine to hold.
I scream and scream into the fabric, the one thing that seems to be hearing my overarching desperateness. It keeps holding my voice, knowing that as long as I keep my mouth open, it will always catch what is being released.
Between the floor of my room and the pillow of my bed, I lay in stillness, knowing that this is not who I am or who I am about to become. I breathe deeply—but inconsistently—knowing that I have some ground to make up for a while, accepting that I am now anew.
Slowly I come back to myself, being reminded that I will never not make it through these challenges when I allow myself to fall on my knees and surrender. There will always be the earth, the soft nature of the cushion, and the resilience of my spirit to catch me—to walk me through all that I need to release from my busy mind and a healing heart.
My eyes begin to open to the ceiling above; what I see upon the roof is not what my focus is drawn to. I begin to imagine what the bigger picture looks like for me while lying on my back, asking for help to get up again.
What is this asking me to look for? Where does this moment take me if this is not who I will be forever? Am I in grief for the woman who I was before this painful breakup?
I ask myself over and over how I might be able to give myself the strength needed to keep going.
This is not the first time that I exchange these words with myself (neither will it be the last), but each time I am reminded that had I never gotten up, I would still be on the floor asking forever, “What does this actually mean?”
Slowly getting up from my sorrow, I wake up to knowing that this is not what is real.
The fear lies upon the floor, and the sounds of my screaming inside my pillow will be left behind as I move forward with the idea that love will always find me again.
I will rise up from the moments that felt like years and the tears that felt like waterfalls, and I will begin to leave the misery that used to occupy my mind among the earth that held me so tight.
I step forward, knowing that this might not be the last time I fall to my knees feeling desperate to release, but I know that each time will only awaken me even more to my true self and the truth that lies ahead of me.
I will never know the why of what is being called into my mind until I step forward with curiosity to find out.
The trust I have in the universe is the trust I have to hold onto. I trust that even when I’m on my back, unable to see the light from the bulbs above, I will somehow clear my vision and allow myself to see the unwritten journey that is waiting for me.
Unwritten and not yet real, but having faith that it is there. I will never walk alone when I know my spirit is with me.