My “Wild” Messenger

I have ventured from my comfort zone today and made a call to a friend to ask for help. I am experiencing pain and sadness on a level that I have not yet been familiar with. My will wants it to just go away.  My friend made an appointment to call me at 7:30. As that time approaches, I lower the music and make sure my phone is handy so I can receive the call. The time comes and goes and I feel a little rejected. Earlier in the day, my good neighbor and friend had once again encouraged me to read the book “Wild”.  Somehow she thought it would resonate with me.   I had already seen the movie, however she was strongly promoting that reading it would offer so much more. By 8:00 when I did not see any call from Mary, I downloaded the book onto my tablet from my library and began to read. It was not long until the identification got to me. All within the first chapter my tears turned into hysterics. I was sobbing as I identified with the author’s reminiscence of her mother’s battle with cancer. It was not until that moment that I realized, that the way I approached my mothers chemo treatments and pain and end of her life was with a tough exterior, doing what I thought I had to do to make it easier for her and for me and for everyone.  I shielded myself, trudged through whatever was handed to me with my head held high and just did it.  I needed to captain the ship and I was sure as hell not going to let it sink. There was little, if any moments of being at port where I just allowed myself to break down. Until now. The floodgates were open and it took me reading about someone else’s experience to fully identify with my own.  I don’t want to read on and I do. I am drawn to how relatable the feelings are.  I thought I was home free with my grieving process though there is strong indication that it has only just begun. This frightens me a great deal. I have never been in this place before. As a matter of course I have been known to welcome new experiences into my world. This one, however, has had to push its way through obstacles that have been so foreign that the language is unrecognizable. I am approaching a place that illustrates a new level of darkness. The boogie men are new and improved and I feel cautious waiting for them to pop out at any time.  For the last few years I have taken on the challenge of 12 step recovery. A heart opening, soul seeking challenge. It has brought me to places and offered me choices toward approaching situations that I was never comfortable taking a chance on. Too risky.  Too exposed.  Too vulnerable.  Too scary.  Today, I have arrived at a place where I am willing to risk it.  Maybe it’s not a “Fuck you, boogie men, come and get me” just yet, rather an “I’m just a little girl, guys, please be gentle” please.  So I proceed onward and keep reading, trusting the message and the feeling that I don’t necessarily want to feel but know I’m meant to.  I have placed a feeling trap inside of me that is overflowing and I need to open it up to make room. Tough feelings are not the enemy that I have made them out to be, I realize as I journey through this piece of it all.  My friend was the messenger and I was finally in a place to receive it.  I cleanse and I don’t die. The boogie men put their arms around me and tell me it’s going to be okay.  They look scary, but they are not what I thought.  I surrender to the night, grateful for the room I have made in my soul.  When I wake in the morning I glance at my phone. I see Mary’s missed call from the night before at 7:32pm.  She tried to connect after all.  Perhaps I was meant to grieve instead.  Most times (all the time)  the universe guides us to where we need to be. We just need to be willing to listen.