Saturday, 9 August 2014

Peace, calm and the passage of time

I was recently reminded of an event several years ago which resulted in my total immersion into sadness and confusion the like of which  I'd never before (or since) experienced.  The dawning of the truth that I had been duped -  tricked into believing something which had in fact been a complete lie.
My mind racing, my heart pounding I couldn't think straight.
The reality of what I'd perceived to be the truth, completely and utterly shattered.
My broken heart felt dark - weirdly heavy - strangely blackened and weighing heavily in my chest - I was unsure how it would ever repair itself, and kept asking myself in crazy whispers, " How did I feel before this revelation?"
Normality felt like a life time ago.
The trees looked different.
Were they sneering at me?
Everything looked weird.
Could nature be fake too?
As I walked I was sure the stony path was laughing at my naivety - silly girl!
As I lay my heavy head and body on the verge, the grass seemed to stroke my brow, perhaps in an attempt to comfort and slow my racing thoughts, my panicked head kept circling round and round, going over and over again and again the details of the event that had unfolded earlier in the day.
How could I speak again?
I needed to speak!
But who could I trust with this?  Who would believe what I so desperately needed to share?
"Breathe", I reminded myself.
"Just keep breathing"
I'm unsure now of the time frame, but I did - over time - start speaking again.  And, the beautiful thing was that all my wonderful  friends I spoke with held me close.
Cried with me.
Held me tight in their thoughts, prayers and physically held me too.
My lovely husband Andrew often feels sad (and a tad confused maybe) when he reads my blogs - asking, "Why do you share that type of story with the world? It's so personal and upsetting!"
And the reason is this:
If just one person out there is reading this and is dealing with devastating news then my hope is that my words help "hold" them and provide some comfort.  I'd hope too that this blog post provides them with some reassurance that the pain they feel right now really will pass.  I know too well that in the depths of it, that can seem like a trite and empty thing to say - but it is true!
"Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us." - David Richo