Tonight is not one of my better nights. Sparkly thoughts are lacking.
Devastation rules the playground and I’m sad. Angry, too. Times like these, I wonder just how much more I can take.
I’ve worked my ass off to get to this point and it feels like there’s always another slap in the face.
Another pothole to stick my foot in while flying a-over-t.
Y’know, I’m actually somewhat good at this whole acceptance thing. I’m like: hey, if this is just how it’s meant to be then I’m good with that. Bring it on!
And then I learn I have hypothyroidism (been scaring myself silly doing internet research), a major iron deficiency, and a couple of other vitamin deficiencies. As a direct result of fucking PTSD.
So I wonder out loud when the hell it’s my turn to not be the punching bag any more? What else to I have to lose in order to move forward? Do I even get to move forward any more or is this as good as it gets?
For five or so years now, I’ve really tried my very best. I have. I’ve mostly kept my chin up during the worst of it all. But there’s never, throughout any of this, been anyone for me to really turn to. To rely on for support. I’ve had to drag my sorry ass one foot in front of the other the whole freakin’ way. And I’m tired. Exhausted and dizzy even, but apparently that’s to do with both the lack of iron and the thyroid stuff.
Now that I’ve come this far, I try to be a good yoga teacher. I mean dang, I was surprised to find that I’d done my training! But now that I have, I constantly question whether I’m really recovered enough to be teaching at all. Regardless, I continue my studies and I’m keeping it super-real with myself and my students. I tell myself that everything I’ve been through is all useful for teaching. But sometimes, even that isn’t enough to keep me going.
At my kinesiology appointment earlier this week, I realised I’m in this place where for the life of me, I just don’t know what to do next. I’ve no idea how to keep things moving forward now that the more obvious signposts have been tackled. I’m just sorta treading water instead.
Today I started reading “Overcoming Trauma Through Yoga”. In the forword, Peter Levine calls healing from trauma a “hero’s journey of recovery and vibrancy”. A hero’s journey. Yes. With so many battles to be fought and won, that’s certainly how it could be described although I never really feel like a hero myself.
That said, a hero doesn’t always have to work alone.
So I’m just gonna put it out there to the Universe (even if I do feel a little silly about this):
What I’d really like right now is a flesh-and-blood-here-in-person Someone to support me. A Champion, if you will.
I don’t care who it is, whether they’re male or female. But I really, really need someone in my right-here-right-now environment who gets me (and I, them) and who can be here for me (and vice-versa). I’ve got plenty of great friends, but most of them don’t live where I do. Those that do are otherwise occupied with being newly married or having babies etc. They’re great, but they’re not available and available is what I need.
Don’t get me wrong, my blog friends – all of you – are awesome.
And Miss Cleo the Kitteh has been brilliant, too.
Really, it’s just that I need a hand. A flesh-and-blood and very literal one.
So dear Universe, please hear my call coz I’m feeling mighty low right about now…