Seventy-six

Seventy-six days passed, and in that time, I left this realm. I transcended into the heavens, then was catapulted deep below the layers of the Earth. First seconds, then minutes, next hours, then weeks… months, two months to be precise, and finally my eyes reopened. I was reborn. I struggled with newborn eyes to see clearly. I didn’t want to see. Seeing meant acknowledging what was real, and I didn’t want to face this new reality. I wanted the past. I craved it like an addict going through withdrawals. I just needed one hit to satisfy my desire for my old existence. I just wanted to lay in this space, deep within myself, masked by my own solitude until I was ready to exist again.

It took a lot to take those first steps. I stood, my legs wobbly with realization that I would have to take these steps alone. I stumbled, scratching my hands as I made impact with the ground. It stung, but by now my body was beginning to adjust to abrasion. The sharp pain brought me back to my senses and forced me to get back up again. I painstakingly assumed the task of propelling myself forward. Every few steps I looked back hoping to catch a glimpse of him, of something familiar. The wind teased me with whispers of him saying my name, the leaves fluttered around me seducing my nose with whiffs of his cologne. I faced forward. Looking back wasn’t helping, so I pressed on.

In the distance, I saw promise. It just seemed so far away. It still seems far away, but I continue to move forward. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I owed it to myself to not get stuck in the in between. It was my life-long obligation to not get trapped in this place, this gray place, this place where I was constantly hopeless, weary and unwanted. I picked up speed, my strides lengthening as my body gained momentum. The memories hurt less as I moved further away from the past. I continued to gain my strength, no longer were my steps unsure. I proceeded with confidence. There was still time left to get right with myself. There was still time. I’ve had many reincarnations, but this time, it took me seventy-six days to come back to life. This time, I finally feel alive. This time I am complete.

.........

Quite some time has passed since my last entry, seventy-six days to be exact. Life gets complicated. Some days I struggled to find the will to get out of bed, yet alone write. Other days my desire was stronger than my destruction. I yearned to be myself again. More so a better version of myself. In the midst of it all, my body became as sick as my mind had once been. Numerous doctor visits, hundreds of needles, more medication than I would like to admit, then finally I felt a degree better. I sought out other means of self-care, visits to the Ayurveda practitioner for procedures I could barely pronounce, and healing from with in. I searched for peace in the form of plane tickets. Atlanta made me feel like home, and Mexico completely shook up my soul. I focused on me. For once, I shifted my attention from a we to simply focusing on loving me. Completely.

It takes time to heal.

A break sometimes, or a moment of separation to truly see for yourself that it is time to move on from whatever is holding you back.

Acceptance of reality can be beautifully painful, but necessary for your growth. For some it takes years, for others it could be months. For me, it took seventy-six days.