Sometimes we have to cannonball into the deep end of pain to get through it.
Trauma therapy, that’s what it feels like for me. It feels like I stood on the end of the pool, toes curling around the edge of the wall, alternately looking into the depths of water which are over my head and then to the shallow end. The end I’m trying to get to. The end that allows me to stand on the strength of my own legs. The end that feels less chaotic and more calm. The end in which I feel more in control. The end that feels survivable.
I can’t get to the shallow end, until I’ve made it through the deep end. So here I am.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m sinking in the deep end of pain, little fight left. The work to survive it, too hard to accomplish. Sometimes I feel like I’m floating in it, head tipped back, water gently framing my face. Arms and legs outstretched, supported by the very pain that seems like the enemy. But I realize I am resting in this place. Gathering strength for the fight. And that is when I feel like I’m treading water. Arms extended, hands cupped, waving just under the surface of the water. My legs fight too. Ironically, as if I’m running from the very thing I fight. Pain.
In this place I must think strategically. Deeply. Focus on the controlled movements of my arms and legs. Resisting the urge to flail and rapidly move them. Realizing that slow and intentional movements will keep me and my head above the water longer. I fight exhaustion here. I fight the pain here. I fight the tears here.
Why is it so hard?
But I continue to fight. I have fear of the depths of the water. I don’t like my face getting wet. I can’t breathe. I can’t hold my breath. I can’t fight there.
Slowly, I keep my arms moving. Legs moving. Head tipped back. Focused breath. In. Out. In. Out.
I don’t know how long I have to stay in this place. In the deep end. Why can’t I just move to the shallow end? I may not be a good swimmer, but I know I can get there. I know I can make it. I know I can stand on my own two feet again. I just need to hold on in the deep end a little longer.
Sink. Float. Tread. Sink. Float. Tread.
Somehow, I always make it to floating, even after sinking a bit. But I worry…what if this next time, I can’t make it there. I can’t make it to the floating? Then what?
But another day arrives. Another rise of the sun happens. And I realize I’ve moved a little bit closer to the shallow end. I’ll get there. Treading my way through the pain, the hardship, the anger, fear and resentment.
I will get there.
And when I do, I’ll stand on the very legs that allowed me to float. The very legs that treaded the water. I will stand up. I will turn around and look at that deep end with wonder and cry. I will cry knowing how hard it was to get from there to here. I will cry knowing I left others in the deep end. I will cry knowing as hard as it was, my pain will make a difference.
And then, I will reach out my hand to the deep end and see how many others I can help get here. To the end in which we can stand and smile, knowing we are survivors.
Mom says
There are brave Hearts waiting in the shallow end welcoming you !
dad says
You WILL get to the shallow end because you are not alone. God is with you and so, of course, are all of us who love you. Keep treading . . . you’ll be to that other end before you know it. Have faith.