Today was bad.
Yesterday was bad.
In fact, I have been living day after day of bad.
For a really long time.
And I’m wearing down.
I am so horribly tired.
Yet sleep rarely comes because I am too stressed.
Or in those seconds before sleep comes, I find myself choking on tears that I was drowning in unnoticed.
And I jerk myself awake, seeking air and breath only to find myself too agitated to sleep.
I have been holding on to a tiny little thread, so worn it is almost invisible to the naked eye, that has been slowly leading me to the pinpoint of light I can almost see at the end of the tunnel.
For nearly 24 months I have been talking myself into a place of positivity, and I guess for nearly 24 months, I have been at least somewhat successful.
And today the string snapped and I am fighting to find a whisper of hope, unable to find that intentional place of positivity.
It isn’t working.
My ability to talk myself off the cliff is gone.
Today I am fighting ardently to not fall back into old patterns.
I have been working consciously, every single day, to build an internal foundation of trust.
I have been fighting to learn trust.
I have been fighting to practice trust.
And it has been harder than I can pretend to have the words to explain.
There are a small handful of people who have been able to break into my realm of trust. A small circle of three. But, a powerful circle.
And today the bomb was dropped.
And all I want to do it grab bricks and start to build myself back into a place of protected solidarity. In frenzied urgency, all I want to do is layer brick upon brick and build a fortress without windows, doors or ladders and save myself from the risks that are inherent to relationships built on little more than trust.
I want to turn my back.
I want to tighten up my circle.
I want to be alone.
Although alone, in this case, is excruciatingly painful.
Alone in this case burns my lungs with each inhale and asphyxiates me with each exhale.
So, this is my battle.
Shut the door.
Trust only ends in pain.
I REFUSE to fall into old patterns.
And my refusal is a battle.
A war I can’t face with my eyes open.
A war I am blindly fighting with an open heart.
And instead of losing myself at the bottom of another bottle mourning yet another lost relationship, I find myself cuddled up to the same bottle as a way to strengthen myself against my demons and face reality.
You know that alcohol-induced sensation of indestructibility?
I’m trusting my booze will bring me my cape and offer me the bravery to move forward.
Today with a conversation that lasted less than 30 seconds, my world dropped out from under me and a boulder somehow nudged itself into my gut.
My heart stopped.
I didn’t understand.
And I cried.
I sat on the couch in a catatonic state…unable to move.
Until my sweetest little Chicken came up to me, hugged me, looked me in the eye and reached her little arm out in front of her.
“Raise your hand like mine, mommy. Put your hand on top of mine.”
So, I did, not really conscious of the tears rolling down my face.
“You’re Tinkerbell and I’m the Winter Fairy friend” she told me solemnly.
“It goes like this…say it with me”
Again, holding my gaze, she slightly lowered her hand down and then shot it into the air shouting “TRUST…and FAIRY DUST!”
“You always have to trust first. That is what Tinkerbell always says.”
And she is right.
My Chicken and Tinkerbell.
And although I think that whole saying is, “Faith, Trust and Pixie Dust” my little princess was on to something.
And she knew I needed to hear it.
You always have to trust first.
I slowly came out of my stupor.
And started to think.
The world didn’t end.
And although I’m not sure where the world will be tomorrow.
Or the next day.
The important thing is that today I don’t break a promised trust.
And not just any trust.
A trust that has been openly discussed. Outlined. Critiqued. Defined.
And a trust that has been lived.
A trust that has been the foundation of something that maybe never should have been.
But, blossomed into being because it was meant to be.
In this moment, burying myself and falling back into my world without trust is the easy choice.
But, I don’t want to go back there.
I am fighting to believe in trust.
And it is a horribly scary place.
A place of vulnerability and unknown.
But, it is all I have.
I have no physical being. I have no phone number. I have no address.
I have nothing left.
I have nothing, except, trust.
I only have trust that is based on an unforgiving and unconventional fidelity that maybe never should have existed.
But it did.
And I can only trust that it will continue.
Because somehow, even the rock in my guts can’t hide the intuitive spirits telling me that giving up trust, and giving up hope, is giving up everything.
I don’t have much.
And I don’t want to lose any more of what I have.
So, I am reminding myself that things will continue to get worse before they get better.
And since February, things have been on a consistent down hill slope.
So, I’ll fall.
And it isn’t graceful.
And it isn’t fun.
And I am bruised and hurt.
But, I trust.
And I will continue to trust
that it will be OK.
I just have to move forward and carry the tiny grains of trust I need to plant and sow gently in my hand.
And as I struggle to find rest tonight, I will not forget that this may indeed be my final exam on my lessons in Trust.
Trust in the moment.
Trust in the person.
Trust in the future.
Trust and Pixie Dust.
I will be OK.
It will be OK.
I have to believe it will work.
I trust it will work.
I believe in trust.
(she said bravely)