It was a long night.
I won’t lie, I took a sleep aid. I actually went out to the drugstore, specifically to buy something I don’t even keep in my house, because I needed sleep more than anything. I’m not as strong as I might like to be, and I couldn’t face the barrage of questions that have woken me for weeks, at all hours of the night. Insomnia, on a night like this, is debilitating.
Still, I woke in the wee hours. Focusing on every breath, pushing out every thought. — In. — Out. — Praying for sleep. Eventually I dozed and found relief.
I woke to rain. He tossed himself against my window, reminding me that he and I are friends. He matched the tears on my face, trying to bring me some measure of peace. He invited me, as he always does, to come outside, lift my face to the sky, and be washed by the same refreshing that falls everywhere, on everyone I have ever loved, in an unending cycle of quenching thirst, and healing this broken earth.
I did not go out. I could not find the strength. But I listened.
I listened too, to the wisdom of a lover. He is new in my life, We first exchanged words at the beginning of Autumn. He has been on this road, before, and his passion and life’s work are inextricably tied to the study and practice of loving more than one. His insight and love, along with the loving support of my husband, have been indescribable strength for me. Early this morning, he said,
I would recommend you assess the core concerns that underpin the tortuous questions and fears. Face them with courage and determined perseverance. As you do this, you erode the basis of the crippling fears, and are able to choose a healthy response.
(I love his scientific mind. His voice of reason, and gentle tenderness. He is amazing.)
I suspect, in fact I know, that deep within me is a well of strength. I have stored up courage, and perseverance. Today, I feel very weak. I know fear as she lies beside me, sits at my elbow, follows silently in my footsteps. I accept that today, she is my companion. I am trembling and bleeding, but I am not crippled. Today, that rain provides a buffer of white noise against the torturous questions. I am resting, and drinking in strength, hope, love and peace.
I know that whatever tomorrow brings, I will survive. The sun will come; her warmth always follows the rain. I will greet her. I will face my fears, and choose a healthy response. I will let life show me what I cannot now see. I will grow, love, and keep walking.