Perfect Storm
Mostly, I live at an accelerated speed. I thrive in deadline-driven schedules with a mix of chaos. This recipe keeps me on task and fuels my hunger for life. But for more than a year, I’ve been quietly struggling with trauma that shut me down. I’m hurting. No puttering. No creating. Instead, I pace in place. My headspace cloudy as fuck. The adventure-seeking-pencil-wielding lover of life MIA.
I’m standing on the sideline, watching the fast-paced flow of life passin’ me by. I wanna join the race, but I can’t. I’m stuck in a twisted holding pattern. No matter how hard I try to break free, the helplessness forces me horizontal until I’m drowning.
Uncharted territory doesn’t phase me. I survived 17 flight changes in 48 hrs and torrential flooding in Morocco because I knew that I could find my way home. This emotional dark space is different – it’s hard to navigate, I’m directionless. It crept up slowly, completely devoured me, and I often sit in awe of its grasp. It’s a M’THR F’IN beast.
Bodies of water have always been my happy place – from wading pools to massive oceans. But this drowning is not the fun splish-splash of childhood memories or diving under massive waves surrounded by white sand beaches. It’s frantic, the fighting-to-come-up-for-air desperate panic.
How do I connect with family and friends, with RAHstrs when I’m struggling for my next breath? How do I breathe life into RAH and stay part of the conversation?
Week 34. 2019. My BFF took me to the ocean. We set sail for days not knowing that a major transformation was gonna happen. The trip started rocky, the relentless wind pushed and pulled us. I wasn’t feeling it and wanted to turn back. Instead, we forged ahead.
Battling rough waters and without Dramamine, I focused on the horizon to overcome the dizziness and nausea. It’s a meditative state. After the queasiness faded, I thanked Mother Nature for letting me cheat her out of her own game.
Like magic, the weather turned, and the sun broke free. The salt in the air and my hair cleared my head. No makeup. No forced empty smiles. No reminders of the pain. Instead, I was hypersensitive to the scenery surrounding me. I doodled the flying porpoises, leaping salmon, and barking sea lions we spied. I weaved together a playlist of songs with titles that we threw out in conversation.
Sun beaming and feasting on clams and crabs we foraged from the sea, I inhaled the moment deep. I looked over at my BFF and cracked a bigass grin. These small moments of magic forced me awake.
With the city behind us and pushing deep into the unknown, he threw me a lifeline. Ready or not, and bruised but not beat down, I’m back in the game. Because living is pushing forward – making choices, right or wrong. And I gotta fight past this hurt to build the path back to me.
oxxo, Hen
