Everything up to a point was normal yesterday. There was no rhyme or reason to it. But I took a hit yesterday.
I understand emotions come and go but this was more like a crisis.
It’s like these past two years I was walking on one of those rickety rope bridges across the deepest and widest gorge. The bridge was fragile and the first few steps were extremely hesitant. But I made it almost to the other side and my confidence in the bridge was up, so high. I started dancing on it even. I felt safe. And just when I felt the safest I heard a crack and a snap.
Before I knew it I was hanging onto two pieces of rope holding myself together so I didn’t plummet again. How in the world did this happen…? I asked. I wasn’t sure how I would get back to solid ground after all of this but I wasn’t falling. I saw the bridge for what it was again…damaged and rickety, full of hidden cracks. Why wasn’t I more careful?
And then last night something happened. I lost hold with one hand and was in a free fall heading straight for the side of a rocky cliff. Swinging through the air, holding onto the rope that I should not have trusted in the first place I knew the rocks were getting close. And then…SPLAT.
Damage. Real damage. More damage.
There are broken bones, and blood, and bruises. I tried to keep this from happening. I wanted this time to be different. I wanted to be like a superhero or an action girl in the movies who swings herself up to safety without a scratch. I was so much stronger than when my husband left me. I knew I was smart, and pretty, and great! I told myself how great I was. I could see myself coming out of this unscathed.
And all that is awesome if you can keep it up…but I’m telling you last night I screwed up and listened to the wrong voice. The one that said….
“All that stuff is crap…you aren’t that great, you are stupid and pathetic and needy. You are nothing to nobody for real. No one wants you, no one is here for you. No one thinks you’re worth it.”
Listening to that voice did damage. Real damage. I can’t go back to the point before I took my first step onto the bridge. I can’t go back to dancing on it. I can’t go back to hanging onto both sides of the rope. What’s done is done.
Right now I’m hanging on with both hands to one rope that is hanging in mid-air on the side of a cliff. I’m sore and tired and mad at myself. There is still quite a distance I can fall. I’m screaming for help. But only one person hears it though. And this person can’t save me.
At this point I really don’t know what to do…try to climb the rope back up to the top? Drop and see if I can survive the fall? Dropping feels easier at the moment. Climbing takes strength. I don’t know if I have enough strength.
But my biggest problem honestly is being hysterically mad at myself for getting on the stupid rope bridge in the first place. BELIEVING IT COULD BE BETTER.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid. Idiot. And now look where you’ve gotten yourself. You are in a pickle now. Hanging around with no one to help you. Idiot.You should have never got on that bridge. It was a short cut and you should have gone the LONG WAY around. You would have been safer. Idiot.”
“You thought…how cool is this…how great is that…but you should have listened to the fear. Stupid stupid woman.”
But it doesn’t matter how stupid I think I am…I’m still hanging by this dumb rope and somehow I have to get myself back on solid ground. One way or another it will happen. I’m either gonna fall hard or find the strength.