I woke up thinking of how many times I've died in my life. Anesthetics do that to me, every time and yet I wake up so it's not a true death. But that feeling of going under, that feeling of surrender, that thought of "Oh... This is it..." that accompanies every journey into the little death that is anesthesia, that must hint at what lies ahead. Death is on my mind, my constant companion, my stalker, my guide dog. Inescapable fact - none of us get out of here alive. And so, on the turn of the season, I slump into depression and the tides of tears that accompany the deepest of grief.
I wanted to run back to Euroa today, despite everything that has happened there. Despite my wanting desperately to run away from it after the fire. My lonely imagination had populated a mythic memory of bliss and joy, of camaraderie and community. Much of that is true, but I had to go through my journals today to remind me of the reality, not the fevered imaginations of my lonely, sad brain. The truth is that Euroa is too far from my son. The truth is that Euroa has not got the specialist medical services I desperately need. Those two truths echo over and over again and they are inescapable facts. I can't go back, much as my rosy memory wants me to. The news that one of my best friends there has just been diagnosed with leukemia makes it all the more unbearable. But that happened when I lived there - in the space of three weeks, two of my best male friends and the man I'd adopted as my dad died. And I couldn't get there. I was too far away... The tyranny of distance.
So I sit here, on Mabon eve, distraught and depressed. Down in the dumps. Dwelling in the dark. A litany of despair, a soft susurration of alliteration. I digress...
More and more I am called to make choices and less and less I find the strength to do so. I thought I was healing from the devastation caused by the fire that destroyed my home and my life, but I find that I am still experiencing profound and intense grief as I understand what I have truly lost. I am not talking about my things, although I miss them in ways you cannot imagine. I am talking about the life that was destroyed when I chose to leave Euroa. All the possibilities, all the opportunities - snuffed out in the single act of leaving. And yet, I had to leave. I could not stay. I needed my family, although that too, has proven to be a myth as well.
And so I sit here tonight and I wonder how many times I must go down this rabbit hole. How many times I must wish that fear did not rule my life. How many times must I regret the choices I have made because I didn't know any better. I so want to live. I so want to be loved.
The thought of dying without that connection to another living being is what is dragging me down tonight. I'm sure so many of you feel as I do. And so I reach through these words on this screen and I tell you that you matter. I'm sure I do - I know I matter to my little Tigger, I know that. And because of that, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other, one minute, one day at a time. I have died and I have been reborn. I have died and I have been reborn. I will die and who knows what will happen?
Time to let it all go.