Rock bottom?

Posted by Lorelai on April 26, 2014

ImageI choose to walk the path of self-discovery. Was I ever at the rock bottom? Many times, or so I thought, although I never completely lost the hope of salvation. There was always this tiny flicker of light somewhere in my heart that eventually dragged me back up to the surface. Slowly but surely.

Just as one passes the trees during the fast drive on the highway, each time I went down I passed the skeletons, that were stored away on the Road To The Bottom. On the slow way back up, I was able to clean some of them up. Little by little, time after time, the road was getting clearer  and I fell faster.

I always thought that it should get easier with time and practice. “You’ve got experience now, Lori, you can handle it better”. So untrue! As there were less and less skeletons stopping me on the way, I was now going down deeper and faster. Less layers to get past, deeper and deeper … yet, I don’t think I ever reached the bottom, not just yet. The bottom holds that which I really, REALLY don’t want to see. I want to stay ignorant to it so much, that for years I chose to hide in pain and unhappiness instead of facing that deep, dark, secret Thing.

Going faster works both ways. Even though hitting the rocks hurts like hell, it seems the healing doesn’t drag for weeks now. Couple of days in the sea of despair and winds bring the boat to the shore of recuperation.

Oh, that feeling again … A squeeze in my stomach, the anxiety. Good. That means I’m getting closer. Did you think that there is less fear closer to the bottom? Because I’m so strong now? Because I’ve been through so much, so I don’t get scared easily anymore?

No, I’m scared out of my mind, to the point that I wake up with the squeeze in my stomach every day now , awaiting the inevitable Truth.

One thing changed though. Each time I go down, I have my eyes more open than before. I see so much now, skeletons with faces talking, smiling, cursing, crying … I see so much of Myself, like I could almost come out of my body and see me falling down. That helps to put some distance between me and … and who exactly? Who is observing me, writing these words? Is it still my mind or something more? The distance helps to let go, each time just a bit more. 

Eyes wide open, but not opened enough yet. I stop caring and start living, enjoying the moments between the falls, releasing the thought, concentrating only on the movement of the inchworm crawling on my daughter’s hand.

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