Fairytale Whispers

Even though I have been on my own now for over 3 years, I latched on to life preservers who provided me moments of safety while I got my see legs under me. This safety was so enticing, until I realized it was merely an illusion. After my eyes adjusted and I saw my new reality, I clutched the life rings even tighter. As soon as I could, I kicked to shore. I have been living and working from the safety of the shore ever since. I have flirted with the dipping my toes into the ocean again and have even allowed the water to crash on my ankles, but I run back to the shore each time. 

Even though it appears I am all better, and making the progress that I felt required me to leave my marriage, what is really happening is I have been recreating life as I have known it, over & over.

I left my old life, but with no map to show me where to go, without a book on what it would take to create my new life or directions on how the creation process would exactly look. Hell, I don't even have a decent tool kit and have been using my son's pocket knife as my go to tool of choice. It has been useful in prying shit apart, opening wine bottles and cutting cords but I can only go so far with it and at some point he will ask for it back for camping.

I have been collecting new tools, but many of them are still in their plastic packaging. With these tools I keep building my refuge castle in the sand and each night I scream in terror as it is washed away. I watch the tide edge closer throughout the evening, while I hold my breath, that maybe tonight my structure will be strong enough. Each night, I realize I am not strong enough and that I am scared and feel ill prepared to swim away from the shore. 

What we resist will persist. That is the saying that should be tattooed on my forehead. I saw my chance and I took it, but that was such a big scary change that it took all that I had to lift my foot to take that first step. With each decision that didn't turn out so well, I got more scared. Scared of the dark, scared of the unknown, scared of the possibilities, scared of the probabilities, scared of my own shadow.


While at the beach this summer, I looked up the stars from the safety of the shore and I heard whispers. Lately I find myself awake in the wee hours of the morning looking out at the stars and knowing they are beckoning me to step out into the dark, one more time. 

One more time. 

There are so many fabulous writers, who are so capable of describing the hold pattern so many of us find ourselves stuck in. Christina Rasmussen is one of those wonderful writers who is holding our hands, talking us through it and reminding those of us who need to reenter the world, how to do it & that it is worth doing.

I found this beautiful poem on her Facebook site and wanted to share it with you. 
  
Second Firsts

No matter the tragedy that is in front of you. Let the fairytale world whisper to your ear little things of life.
No matter the dreams that were destroyed. Look up and see the beautiful blue skies fill your world.
No matter the pain you feel in your heart. Let the ache you have for living, be felt.
I want you to feel this hand on your back, gently pushing you forward. With the force of life.
Fear or bravery. Choose to believe.
Rain or shine. Choose to live.
Pain or pleasure. Choose to feel.
The day I realized I had a choice to make was the day
my life changed.
It was up to me to re-enter life.
Nobody was stopping me from finding the door.
Only myself.
I had bitterness for what happened to me.
I felt intense jealousy of the rest of the world for having what I did not have.
I was the one preventing me from finding life again.
If this is you then know this.
The sail boat you are on has a steering wheel.
The captain’s hat bares your name.
Start steering yourself out of the storm.
But listen up, rest at every shore.
Have fun while at sea.
And know that your boat has one of the most powerful engines.
The engine of grief.
It comes with sparks, explosives and a drive that can rock your world.
Choose to drive it.
You hold the keys.
Ignite.

Christina Rasmussen  www.facebook.com/secondfirsts