Everything changes. Sometimes this truth works in your favor. Sometimes not.
Not long ago, I “thought” I had experienced one of the worst experiences of my life. Maybe it was. It felt like it. Every moment of enduring that time took immense courage. And when you are in the throes of utter terror, finding this kind of courage seems completely unfathomable.
But this is what I know right now:
I can face whatever life throws my way.
I do want for life to toss me more tenderness, and far less stress, but I know that I can handle life in all of its vicissitudes.
As I have had to manage very significant PTS, I have watched the ways various forms of stimulation have affected me. Loud noises. A car or a person approaching my space too closely or too suddenly. Violent or abrupt language. These things had become violent triggers to my heart.
I made a decision when I knew this: to pour as much love and tenderness and forgiveness into the places inside of myself that needed it for as long as they needed it and for as long as they will need it. “Will” being future tense because this healing is a work in progress.
And it is working.
This love. This tenderness. This forgiveness. Is working. I began to remind myself
to rise.
Every day. Inspired by the poem by Maya Angelou. And what happened next was this: more stress appeared in my life. And so I kept pouring (I keep pouring) more love inside (and out) and here is the difference...
When I was actively in the throes of the PTS, I would hear a loud sound and I would literally shake BONE DEEP.
But today I rise.
I was up late two nights ago reading the alerts about my favorite part of the world, the place where I intend to be laid to rest.
Human beings trapped beneath the rubble. An entire city destroyed beyond recognition.
I watched in a puddle of tears. But steady. Strong. In offering.
Not long ago, I “thought” I had experienced one of the worst experiences of my life. Maybe it was. It felt like it. Every moment of enduring that time took immense courage. And when you are in the throes of utter terror, finding this kind of courage seems completely unfathomable.
But this is what I know right now:
I can face whatever life throws my way.
I do want for life to toss me more tenderness, and far less stress, but I know that I can handle life in all of its vicissitudes.
As I have had to manage very significant PTS, I have watched the ways various forms of stimulation have affected me. Loud noises. A car or a person approaching my space too closely or too suddenly. Violent or abrupt language. These things had become violent triggers to my heart.
I made a decision when I knew this: to pour as much love and tenderness and forgiveness into the places inside of myself that needed it for as long as they needed it and for as long as they will need it. “Will” being future tense because this healing is a work in progress.
And it is working.
This love. This tenderness. This forgiveness. Is working. I began to remind myself
to rise.
Every day. Inspired by the poem by Maya Angelou. And what happened next was this: more stress appeared in my life. And so I kept pouring (I keep pouring) more love inside (and out) and here is the difference...
When I was actively in the throes of the PTS, I would hear a loud sound and I would literally shake BONE DEEP.
But today I rise.
I was up late two nights ago reading the alerts about my favorite part of the world, the place where I intend to be laid to rest.
Human beings trapped beneath the rubble. An entire city destroyed beyond recognition.
I watched in a puddle of tears. But steady. Strong. In offering.
I watched contemplating how I could best offer my strength. My light. My inner
knowing that I can get through anything.
I sat. This will take time. This tragedy. Lives affected, spreading out in widening circles. There are people who feel this in their bodies who live half the world away.
This will take time.
I sat and recognized that I have been someone who for moments could not see what I see now and this may very well happen again.
But the beautiful thing about change is that sometimes it can happen in ways that are imperceptible. And one day, because you were taking small steps all along, you just find yourself on the other side.
You rise.
I have before and I will again. I’m so grateful I know how.
And every day, I’m going to keep pouring love into all of the places that need it.
8.25.16
Jill Bacharach
I sat. This will take time. This tragedy. Lives affected, spreading out in widening circles. There are people who feel this in their bodies who live half the world away.
This will take time.
I sat and recognized that I have been someone who for moments could not see what I see now and this may very well happen again.
But the beautiful thing about change is that sometimes it can happen in ways that are imperceptible. And one day, because you were taking small steps all along, you just find yourself on the other side.
You rise.
I have before and I will again. I’m so grateful I know how.
And every day, I’m going to keep pouring love into all of the places that need it.
8.25.16
Jill Bacharach
No comments:
Post a Comment