I sit here mystified and bewildered, unsure how to proceed. Thoughts of obligations, responsibilities, ambitions and dreams whirl around in my head in a constant 24-hour cycle. There is no break, no moment of peace, regardless of how badly I need certainty. Trying to make sense of my journey only makes me crazy and panicked. Attempts to manipulate my future leave me feeling raw and exposed. For so long my body hurt so bad it was all I could feel, think, see and do. That pain consumed me, invaded my heart and distorted my mind. I didn't think it would ever leave, to the point that I forgot who I was because that pain was all I could be. That pain became me. Something kept me going, but I don't know what. If I could bottle it and sell it I would gladly laugh my way to the bank to cash my millions. How does a person keep going with so much torment and adversity?
What happened six months ago that changed everything? I hit the floor of a glass bottom boat hard, and stared at the churning abyss waiting to suck me deeper, to claim my life. I knew if I fell any further there was no getting up again. Suddenly, the girl who thought she lost so much there wasn't anything left to lose, realized life can still get worse. It was the moment all my hardship prepared me for, I suppose. Staring my demise in the face forced me to take my eyes off the end and believe things can be different, but only if I really believe. The kernel of intention bloomed in the face of no other option, and I set to work.
Over the last six months everything changed. The biggest surprise of all is discovering I'm still here to rediscover. I thought life beat the passion out of me, like a snarling rabid fight dog who no longer knows how to play. Convinced I would spend the rest of my days as a vague shadow of the woman I was meant to be, I instead find myself actually living again. Smiling, crying, laughing and playing. Believing. And yes, intently searching.
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