I’m scared to write. I don’t know what’s going to come out. There are so many clearer ideas in my head lately*.
I feel a bit like I’m standing at the edge of a diving board and my life is the swimming pool. I came up here because I wanted to dive in. But now that I am finally here, I am faced with how terrifying the dive might be. And I’m scared that once I set on this path, I won’t be able to unknow or unfeel this life. If I leap, I can’t turn back. Like you can’t stop a dive once it’s started.
Jumping would mean that I am really closing a door on the life I thought I would have. The life I thought I would have when I was a teenager. The life I thought I would have when I got married. The life I thought I would have a few months ago. There’s a ‘whole new world. a new fantastic point of view.’
I also started very intensive ‘integration therapy’ twice a week. It’s very intense and powerful. We are trying to find and nurture my sense of self after trauma. We are trying to strengthen neuropathways that I didn’t even know I had. And through this I am discovering my “inner wise woman” – my sense that I exist as a whole and complete person with wants and needs. (wow. I can’t believe I wrote that. I’m so not quite there yet.)
So, here I stand on the edge of the diving board, wanting to dive into my life and give it my all. But scared. Scared of the leap. Scared of leaving behind my precious coping mechanisms that have kept me ‘safe’ all these years. And most of all, scared of the pain of love. Scared of the intense pain that I would feel over love lost. Scared of the intense vulnerability that comes with all of this.
But I have to try. I have one shot and I might as well make the most of it. I know that I won’t really regret trying even if I fail. But I will regret sitting idly by while my time ticks away. (like my dad did…)
So I’ll raise my mason jar of coffee with milk and maple syrup in a toast to myself. Here here! To trying to join in this thing called life.
L’chaim. To life!