Here I Am, Standing at the Horizon

I’m looking out at the horizon. It appears untouched, uncertain, and foreign. I’m feeling a bit frozen. I know I cannot return to what I left as it is in ruins. I’ve seen too much to unsee it and go back. I have a keen awareness that I have finally left and am grappling with a strange, new reality that hasn’t come together yet, nor does it feel familiar in any way. My eyes scan the horizon and my heart if full of doubt and fear. I question my ability to navigate the terrain below.

I guess I’ll just hang here for awhile and stop frantically searching. Perhaps the goal is to give myself the time to grieve what I have lost and to let go of needless investigation of things that are outside of my control. It’s time to bring my focus on what can actually be accomplished today. Too much thought and worry often leads to fear and inaction and very little is accomplished when I am this way. Clinging to constant worry was one of my ineffective coping mechanisms that stemmed from trauma. Worrying has not only rendered itself useless, it has also damaged relationships and caused health problems. I am aware of this now, but have only recently began to acknowledge my ability to disengage from the situations that harm me.

I was hanging on to people and ideas that were not fruitful for me. I’m still processing why I put other people before my own development and health. Obviously, I had something to gain from remaining engaged. It could have been, in part, to avoid my own work and pain. Change is difficult and perhaps it is easier to detach and become engrossed in someone else’s struggle. Being a part of someone else’s healing might of made me feel useful, less unworthy, and visible. I would have felt like I mattered had I been able to help someone.

People were not ready and they were not asking for my help. Their fractured lives left little room for connection in the way I longed for and desired. Its too difficult remaining in a relationship that centers around chaos where I continually worry and fret over everyone’s safety. My voice has become hoarse from screaming for so long. I’m exhausted and I feel silly when I acknowledge that my pleas for lasting change have never really amounted to anything. I think of all the time and energy that I could have been pouring into my life and loving myself. Perhaps, the screaming was actually a plea to connect with and care for myself. I was angry and upset at others who I felt had abandoned me, but in reality, I was the worst offender. I had repeatedly left myself on a mission to help and “save” those who repeatedly declined my help. At least now, I am questioning my behavior honestly and courageously. I’ve been hurt so much that I’m willing to take a harder look at myself.

I am exhausted at the endless attempts to connect to the ones I love. I’ve begged and pleaded for way too long, losing my dignity, winding up devastated and depressed. No one came to embrace me and instead I only ended up completely isolated and alone. And yet, I was unwilling to remain silent. I was also not ready yet to embrace and accept “what is” and to let go of my desire and dream to connect. I would look around and see evidence of others in my life who appeared connected and happy in their families and lives, and I was unwilling to let go of what I felt “should be”. In my hurt and anger, I added fuel to the flames, making an already dismal situation, worse. I was never truly left, because I was never actually connected and together with the ones I loved. I had spent a lifetime trying to connect to people who were either unwilling or unable to join me.

I know that it’s time to leave the hopeless reality that has consumed much of my time and energy. I literally have no idea what I am doing or even what is next. I only know that accepting “what is” and “letting go” of ineffective ways of coping will more than likely open up windows in this musty and stuffy old house. Perhaps, light will flood into the windows and I’ll discover areas of myself that have been neglected and untouched all these years. Maybe the sun will flood in providing warmth and even joy. In time, I might even create a new and familiar space that is all mine that I will call “HOME”.

I hold doubt and hope in my heart at the same time. This space is unfamiliar, but feels somewhat safe. I’m just going to put one foot in front of the other as I learn to listen and trust my own voice. I’ll be grieving, letting go, and learning all at the same time. Most importantly, I hope the manacles that have bound me in the past to places of despair, release and fall heavily to the floor. I’m venturing into the unknown with new intention and resolve and my eyes are open, scanning the horizon.