Photo by Jesse Lanier
I’ve been without internet for a few months, hence the
silence. Actually there have been other reasons for my silence. For I’ve been
lost, you see. The summer was long, and mercilessly hot and it seemed that all
of the Pacific Northwest was on fire. The sun beat down on Washington and
Oregon with a fury that left burnt scars in its wake. And yet…it was so dark.
So very, very dark.
After the sweet bliss of spring gave way to this blistering
time, the man I love more than all others wounded me more deeply than anyone
ever has, leaving me feeling exposed and disposable. I was blindsided, and as I
stumbled through the ache and humiliation of it, things got even worse. There
were unexpected financial pitfalls and my schooling came to a screeching halt.
I suddenly found myself wandering aimlessly, not having any sense of direction.
With each step I took, I lost my footing and everything I reached for seemed to
crumble like smoldering ash. The days became a blur and I had to rely on
autopilot just to keep going.
I had lost what I thought was love, and then I lost a dear
friend and pillar in my spiritual community when he unexpectedly died of a
heart attack. My last memory of him was looking up into his kind gaze as he put
his arm lovingly around me in an attempt to comfort my broken heart…and then
his stopped working. Stan the Stick man left this world and an entire community
was shaken to its core. The only comfort in this was that it was one thing I
didn’t have to feel alone in. In this one thing there were others who were
feeling the same grief along with me. For a short time, it gave me something to
hold onto. Then the darkness reached its claws out again and wrapped them
around my throat. I recently learned that another very special friend of mine
is currently fighting for her life and so is my stepdaughter. It looks grim for
both of them and there is nothing I can do but watch in horror, helpless to
save either of them.
Stan and his amazing wife Nelia
Oh that darkness. Even as the sun bore down, it became all I
could see or feel. Behind every sunbeam its tendrils creeped and crawled,
enveloping the whole of my existence. I desperately searched for signs of
something good, something containing joy. I looked to my sweet, beautiful
daughter, hoping that my love for her would snap me out of it, but all I could
see was my failure as a mother. I even lost my Krav Maga and her Karate classes
because of the aforementioned financial catastrophes. It was too much. It was
so heavy and so black. I was sinking and every morning was met with searing
emotional torment. I couldn’t think. I could hardly function at all, and I
could feel myself slipping into something great and terrible. Despair
suffocated me and rage battered me. After all I had survived and after all I
had fought for, I couldn’t understand how it had come to this. The whole world
had lost its senses and I was losing a battle with myself that I will not speak
of in detail at this time.
It was only a few short weeks ago that a couple of my most
intuitive friends saw what was happening to me and within me. They saw that I
was in trouble and that I needed someone to show me that I was not as alone as
I felt. I was not suffering unnoticed; I just couldn’t see beyond that looming
wall of blackness. In that place, that terrible, terrible place, I felt hands
reaching for my wrists and I was pulled close enough to the surface to see that
there are people who see me…who really see me. It snapped me to my senses long
enough to be able to see that while I was living in shadow, there was something
beyond it. There was a life waiting for me. I just needed to find my way back
to it and back to myself.
No, it wasn’t a grand realization. It wasn’t as if the light
suddenly broke through the darkness to illuminate all the good things. I didn’t
suddenly break from my despair as a shining beacon of hope and determination. I
was still in the dark. I was still in pain. The important thing, the most
important thing, was that at least I knew there was something better. I just
had to find my way back. I had been given a rope, but I still had to climb. And
so, covered in soot and ash, I began to climb.
I have chosen to maintain my friendship with Jesse. It’s a
very complicated and bizarre situation, and cannot be fully explained herein.
It has taken a lot of thought and history and willingness to understand his
side to be able to accept what is. It’s not easy and not a day goes by that I
don’t wonder if I should just sever ties. If it was anyone else, I would. This
thing…this whatever-it-is at this time, is more worth holding onto than letting
go of at this point. He is kind and has shown great concern and caring. We have
had some grand adventures, and continue to do so as I help him with his
photography business. We went to the Faerieworlds festival, which even in my
darkness, was one of the best weekends I can recall. It was the only break I
had from all that was threatening to devour me and it was good. There were
amazing wonders and scenery. Beautiful people living as otherworldly creatures
were everywhere I looked and there was wonderful, healing music. I experienced things
that gave me just enough to sustain me until those friendly hands reached for
me and I was shown that I am visible.
Pictures by Jesse Lanier
And so, for a few weeks I met each morning feeling like I
was dying but knowing that I really wasn’t. I went to work, I took care of Violet and I
even worked things out with my martial arts school so that Violet and I can
return when October starts. They have even awarded me a partial scholarship.
That brought the first happy tears I’ve cried in a very long time. Yesterday,
since I was on my own without Violet, Jesse and I went on a spontaneous drive
down the Columbia River Gorge on the Washington side, scouting out scenery
worthy of photographs. As we laughed and talked and adventured our way in his
funny brown jeep down winding roads, we made a few stops and then kept going.
Without planning for it, we found ourselves at the Maryhill Stonehenge Memorial
(which is a smaller replica of Stonehenge that serves as a war memorial site for
those who don’t know) just in time for the lunar eclipse of the full blood
moon. It was breathtaking! As Jesse fiddled with his camera and began to take
pictures, I lost myself in the moon for a moment, marveling at its full
ruddiness. I remembered a Facebook post my friend Corinne had shared about
using that opportunity to let things go and release what harms or no longer
serves me. I crouched down, leaning against one of the stone pillars, looking
up at the moon, and I quietly whispered to it all of the things that are
hurting me that I wish to let go of. I asked for things as well. I asked for
direction. I asked for purpose. I asked to get my passion, my creativity, my
sense of self back. I asked for a happy life and I asked for help in becoming
the mother that Violet needs and deserves. I asked for peace.
Pictures by Jesse Lanier
There was more picture taking and Jesse showed me the
coolest trick using a small light to illuminate surfaces for night time
photography. Even though he explained in detail how it works, I’m still baffled
and stunned. I’ll let him keep the science. I’d rather have the wonder. He got
some fantastic shots and it was fun to take part. After we’d gotten all we
could, we climbed back into the jeep, wearily made the two-hour trip back and I
was dropped off at my tiny and silent apartment where I was greeted by a
snuffly, happy hound and two impatient cats. The snakes (yes I have two of them
now) seemed indifferent. Haha! I took a few moments to wind down and settle in for
the night before retiring to my luxurious canopy bed, wondering if things would
be different. I wondered if there was really any power in letting things go.
And then I drifted into strange and nonsensical dreams.
Today is the first day I can remember in which I woke up not
feeling like I was dying. I could feel the residual pain of the darkest summer
lingering softly in the background, fading like nightmares do as the morning
wears on. My heart remembered the ache and still feels it to this moment, but
it is not overpowered. Today, for the first time since I don’t know when, I
feel like I can get past this. I feel like I have what it takes, even though I
am still shaking. I am still afraid. I don’t know how I will feel tomorrow
morning. I don’t know if the darkness will come for me again. Right now, I’m
okay. Right now I know my chances of feeling okay tomorrow are higher than they
were yesterday. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if I’ll get everything
resolved. I don’t know if I will ever have the love that I thought I had and
lost. I don’t know if when I finally finish my book, it will actually get
published. I don’t know if I will excel at Krav Maga to the point that I
desire. I don’t know anything.
I had left my driver’s license in Jesse’s jeep and the poor
guy had to bring it to me, whilst recovering from a headache. He sat with me
for a bit and we talked about his photography and other things. I don’t know what
he is. I don’t know why he is…but he is. And I am. And I’m learning to just
accept and be okay. I might grow old and never have what I think I want now. I
might just have to be okay alone. I have Violet, but she will grow up and move
on. Friendships will fade and people will die. There will be pain and I know
how much pain there can be…but I’ll be okay. There are sunsets and moons and
things and places. There are thoughts and dreams and nightmares and waking from
it all to look around and seek a new perspective. There are happy songs when I
need to dance and feel lifted and there are sad songs when I need to feel
understood. There is what there is…and it continues to move and twist and
undulate and cycle. The only constant is change and I am learning to find peace
in uncertainty. The darkness will come again, but when it does, I'll ride it out.
My current favorite sad song, "Faith in Others" by Opeth. It offers a strange sort of comfort.
Photo by Jesse Lanier
