"THE EDGE, there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. ― Hunter S. Thompson"
One thing I can say is, its not just that PANDAS came into my world. Its that every single thing that was good, left it. Everything. I will not recount what is already on these blog pages, the list is too long and I am unwilling to be victimized by it any more. But I can say this. My world got way too small for way too long. I could handle it all, but handling it alone, in exile, for so long, please. I know plenty of families and moms that while they are tortured by this illness, they have the added resilience that comes from husbands and families, friends, homes and the rest of life that we lost in the nearly 4 years it took to diagnose my son and the nearly 4 years it then took to get him better. Many others, like me, are left with nothing but a little teeny world that fits on a pinhead.
So if regrowing my personal life is paramount to any early or enduring success of my healing... where to begin? Regaining perspective from within, that is my goal. Or creating one from scratch if that is necessary.
But can someone ever really come back from over the edge?
Is it possible to find the bridge back to happiness? To restore my faith? I don't know. I do not know that I’ll ever believe in the world or a God or a person the same way. I may never regain that pure sustained connection to a high vibration of love and truth and goodness as it resonates in the universe that I believed was the essence of creation. That part of me might be broken. Or maybe, I was wrong. Maybe it was a hallucination after all. I will have to find this out.
I don’t know if I will ever feel back in sync with the rest of the world. But you know, when I really think about that, in many ways I never was anyway. I always followed my own rhythm, and lived and loved in my own way and in my own time. But the difference is, it never bothered me before. When people were flocking home from the beach because it was so freaking windy, I was just suiting up and rigging my windsurf board. As an adult, I never felt like an outsider to life; if anything, in my own quirky way I felt like I was always one or two or ten steps ahead of the crowd, or lifetimes ahead, and I didn’t really care. That is the breech. That I even give a shit.
Can the rift in my soul be repaired? I don’t know. I see other broken people and I know in my heart that they can heal. I know some people who believe they are so damaged but when I see them, I see a soul that is still pure and people that are suffering but still whole, and still worth loving. In this moment while I can’t see that about myself exactly, seeing it in others may be the first step, and I will hope for that.
So, here I stand, scratching my head. How to repair what may be irreparable.
Ultimately, all the understanding and therapy and EMDR trauma sessions and all the explaining in the world cannot fix anything, although insights are valuable and can be healing. They can help you change your mind about things.
Ultimately, I am faced with only one possibility that I know of, an inner shift that can only come from me. A leap of faith. A choice based on nothing but a feeling, an instinct. This has always been my strength, the power to choose a leap in faith. Faith is not a given. There is no already “is” faith, like a thing that you have or don’t have. Faith is a creation, a choice. I called it in, I built it, I chose it, over time, over years, from nothing but a dream, as a little girl. I remember doing that, I remember the moment it occurred to me, that I realized that faith is an option and I prayed that faith would find me, that it would stop me from being so scared. And it did, it has been my best friend all my life. Now I keep reminding myself I can create it again. Choose, Amy, just do it. But I don’t know. That bridge just feels too broken. I would have to forgive the entire fucking world, and I just can’t, not yet. No bridge can bear the weight of that.
So for now, I’m here, on this side, stuck. But at least I can see it for what it is. At some point, because I am me, I will likely find a way to call forth the courage and the will for such radical forgiveness, because the other option is simply so unappealing. Life on the wrong side of the bridge= Bad. But I don’t own that level of courage right now. I don’t know if it is even accomplishable as a purely solitary effort or may require an entire group effort, or planetary effort, or maybe a lot of drugs. Ultimately I have to find out if the road back over that bridge is still even in me, at all, or if I ultimately care enough to even be that generous as to dole out such massive amounts of forgiveness, because I’m not sure that anyone really deserves it at the moment.
Grace is a beautiful thing, it should be deserved but also, I know that the essence of grace through forgiveness is that it must be freely bestowed and for my own sole benefit, my own freedom. No one knows or cares or is burdened by my broken heart, but myself. Well, my child sees me pull it up every day, and for his benefit alone, I should push myself through this next step. But it still feels like I’d be doing the planet a favor, redemption for its own sake and all that does right now is call up resentment. How dare you for steal my life and then make it my job to somehow wrangle it back? Forgiveness for that feels miles away, light years away.
Hmmmm, so thus the dilemma continues for the moment.
How to come back from over the edge?
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