Getting a fresh start is easier said than done.
There is an all encompassing fear when you think about leaving all that’s familiar, all that is comfortable and all that has been created to start again.
I didn’t build on solid ground.
I built on sand with mud and spent years patching up holes and hiding slips. It fell and when it did, I sat in the glory of it’s demolition denying it’s destruction. I couldn’t admit to myself that I had made mistakes in it’s construction.
I’d deliberately blinded myself to the blemishes of my life, to the clear indicators of cyclic hopelessness and plastered a smile when I should have braced. Denial is an all powerful adhesive. It keeps you still when you know you should move. Like concrete it molds your very being. Keeping you blind, deaf and dumb.
I had to leave.
I simply didn’t have a choice. When I finally awoke to the shrieking sound of my life, I could no longer tune out. I’d professed myself a deep and spiritually fulfilled woman only to realise that there was no substance in my life.
I was a fraud and an impostor. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I didn’t recognise the person I’d become.
And I would never have left had the earth not eroded under my very feet.
When the ground shook loose I fell hard.
I covered myself in silt and misery until strength found my bones and heated my blood. That did not happen overnight. Many days I spent curtain drawn, under dark doonas, praying simply for the will to rise.
It didn’t happen overnight. I cried. I let my soul shed through my eyes and I cried. The pit seemed endless, and I let myself be lulled by the sweet caress of despair. I welcomed her as my mistress and she gripped me tight savoring every last drop of soul suffering agony.
I made pain my heroine.
But finally, the sun rose, and finally the tears stopped and finally I awoke. I stepped away from the ash I mourned and knew this life no longer served me. That I would need to recreate my life but this time with wisdom.
With the wisdom to build sound foundation, to focus on structure, to pour energy and love into it’s walls.
Second chances don’t come by often because we fear the fog of unknown. Second chances belong to the broken souls that fall from grace and manage to survive the impact.
So here I am. Having barely survived and rediscovered my legs.