Time To Face The Truth

The cold water surrounding me; the eerie quiet that felt colder than the water, and the pounding of my temples. This is a far cry from where I thought my quest for adventure would take me. When blowing out my birthday candles two weeks ago, I pictured serenity, perhaps parasailing, deep-sea diving, or resting on an exotic beach, but never did I envision this scenario. A drunken bet, a lapse in judgment, a seemingly casual rendezvous, and here I am in my current predicament.

You know how life goes, the perception of your circumstances changes when placed in the right situation. Well, this IS the exact type of situation where a mundane existence feels like heaven, being predictable, some might say, is a waste of one's life. I suppose there's a measure of truth in that assessment, because we only get one ticket to this adventure called life.

Up until now, the "fly by the seat of my pants" philosophy made me think of people like that as irresponsible. I might be described as many things, but "madcap" wouldn't be an adjective ever connected to me. But I could be living in a world of “what ifs.” What if that drunken bet hadn’t been made? What if the situation never happened? I don’t have those answers. But I know that I’m where I am, and I have to make the most of it, because it’s now or never.

Survival instincts don't come into play until a plethora of emotions play themselves out in your mind. The body goes into shock, jarred by reality, after acceptance settles in, conservation of our mental and physical resources begins. The marvelous creation that is the human being, designed to persevere and endure the unimaginable, with a ferocity, a determination, a single-mindedness, which displays the best of human creation. I believe victory over adverse conditions begins with mental strength, being prepared psychologically for whatever happens, goes a long way to ensuring successful survival.

My analytical nature is a double-edged sword; DAMN! I am aware that my legs have lost feeling, it feels like I'm treading water with legs that aren't mine. My arms are so numb that they feel the same; thumping in my chest provides accompaniment for my throbbing head, the loss of sensation in my extremities, all conspiring to drive me crazy. Isolation and solitude compound the desperation I'm feeling, my analytical brain scrambles to figure out my best recourse. Fatigue, strange how it hasn't occurred to me that I'm running on pure adrenaline, after all, my body has long since passed the point of tiredness, it's a surreal sensation. I struggle to continue treading water, I know enough to know that overexertion will deplete my already extremely limited energy. Short and deliberate movements, making sure to focus on my goal; LIVING!!!!

When I was growing up, I watched television shows about extreme survivalists, their clever, and often unconventional methods to conquer their environmental, physical, and psychological challenges, always fascinated me. My favorite of them all was Sally McNeil, she decided to abandon her mediocre existence, in exchange, she was rewarded with personal happiness. Happiness, for her, turned out to be traveling from one corner of the world to another, eating exotic cuisine, meeting different people, embracing life on her terms. I sat there spellbound, longing to know what it was like to live such an exciting life. Her daughter wrote about her mother; she both admired and revered her exploits, explaining in the book the conflicting mental and emotional experience of being "The Sacrifice." The title seems to condemn her mother, but, on the contrary, it sheds light on both subject and author. How they worked through any rough patches in their relationship with tears and truth, laughter and letting go, bonding over the whole of the experience. Seeing the other through understanding, the younger McNeil, although grieving for the little girl she once was, felt that her mother saved her own sanity by being true to herself.

In the sheer bleakness of my reality, there appeared as if by divine intervention, a figure in the distance, holding a flashlight. A beam of light that offered salvation, pierced the darkness, like a beacon. Renewed, as though the light were giving me some invisible power, I soon reached my mysterious savior, a hand reached for mine, once gravity hit, I felt totally disconnected from my body. "Don't worry, you're safe." I immediately recognized the voice, it was Jarvis. Jarvis Glad-Gate, a dedicated environmentalist, a member of the local search and rescue team. Upon arrival, he had introduced himself, explained that in the unlikely event a search and rescue mission was necessary, he would find that person or people, guaranteed. The flurry of activity around me, conjured up images of ants, scurrying to accomplish a task. It was dizzying, watching bodies swarm around, I lost consciousness, waking some time later, in a dimly lit room. My circulation was returning to normal, pain making it obvious, the color of my skin although looking anything but its usual slightly tanned color, signaling recovery.

Lying in the safety of the bed, the gravity of my ordeal seeped in, tears rolled down my face. Before I realized it, I was in full sobs, every movement of my battered body, amplifying my internal agony. It's amazing, the way we deal with trauma, burying it until circumstances allow us to process what we've suffered. My recovery was long, at times, I wondered if a full recovery would be possible. I didn't want to think about what happened ever again! Impossible, when forced to confront it every single day, every, miserable, long, depressing day. Therapy twice a week, to combat the psychological toll, anti-depressants, and alcohol-LOTS OF ALCOHOL! Drinking gave me courage albeit false courage, to face the days and nights of utter brokenness, brokenness of spirit, perhaps the saddest casualty of what I went through, and the most heartbreaking of all, and very unexpected. Acceptance of all other parts of it, easy, surprisingly easy, but clearing this final hurdle brought to the forefront, demons unfamiliar to me. There are events in our lives that change us almost on a cellular level, as if our DNA is altered, and we become a new person. My dreams offered no respite, turning sleep into a trip to a different hell. Vivid, in technicolor, as if a master of horror films were directing them. Each awful manifestation of my mental anguish brought to life, torturing me in the way only our nocturnal creations can, seizing me with a fear that paralyzed me.

Relationships, personally and professionally, deteriorated to the point of nonexistence. Isolation seemed my only safe haven, curtains drawn, music playing on low on the television, and my best friend-alcohol. Liquor fueled outbursts, culminating in snuggling up to the toilet bowl, became a vicious cycle. Trips to the grocery store, drive-thru windows, and nowhere else, I hated leaving home. Outside made me feel vulnerable, violated, violent, and I tried to make myself invisible. Gin and her fellow libations, my only friends, offering no criticisms, call to accountability, or no sickening pep talks. One thing I did NOT want or need, anyone trying to rouse me out of my self-imposed pity party, anyone pointing out the obvious, trying to "fix" me. Solitude, if managed the right way, doesn't have to be a bad thing. I held some inspirational, if not delusional conversations with myself, Spewing some of the most convoluted logic ever spouted, I'm telling you, nobody sells you as big a load of BS, as we sell ourselves, when we are compromised. I've surmised that this is a tool utilized in the throws of trauma, to deal with the overwhelming emotions we are left to sort out. Firmly on my path of destruction, I plunged so deeply into my dysfunctional behaviors, oblivious to the utter havoc they were wreaking, and NOT GIVING A DAMN, I soon began neglecting my body's need for food altogether, my gaunt appearance, failing to raise alarm. Vomiting, mostly stomach acid and blood, which I paid no attention to, just as routine as breathing or blinking. One day, fully engaged in my now normal way of life, a knock startled me out of malaise, but no way was I answering the door. The annoying, persistent knocking, irked me beyond words.

After what felt like an obscene amount of time, the unwanted visitor left. My phone represented no threat of intrusion, long since rendered impotent, whereabouts unknown, and of no concern to me. Food, I ate, sparingly. It really just consisted of cold cuts, delivered by ordering them online, along with a few other things. Late night black and white movies became my only company, I started talking back to my television, like the characters were friends, until I threw a Vodka bottle at it, putting an end to my 2-D relationships. No depth seemed too low, so I sank even lower, if you can believe it. Whoever imagines they will wind up in such a wretched state? Our fundamental beliefs about ourselves, our lives, our world, can be destroyed, easier than you can fathom. The right combination of factors, and all of a sudden, everything shifts, morphs into something unrecognizable. Leaving an individual, in every important way, a totally different person. Oh, you're always certain about everything, until they're not. People, each of us, control so little, and the few things we do have control over, make us feel less powerless. Our choices, no matter how harmful, are our own, our consequences, likewise.

I don't know what snapped me back into reality, maybe it was finally being sick and tired of being sick and tired, maybe it was the realization I had faded from the vibrant, involved, vital being I had been, replaced by a shadow. A nondescript, shell, looking back at me in the mirror. A stranger, as strange to my eyes as if an alien were peering back. My shock jolted me, a surge of guilt coursing through my veins, HOW IN THE WORLD DID I SPIRAL? WHAT CAN SET RIGHT, A LIFE SO OFF BALANCE? MAKE WHOLE, THAT WHICH IS SHATTERED? The answers were as elusive to me, as though I were asking questions that weren't meant to be answered. A mess, I was a mess, for sure, and unlike a spill, couldn't be cleaned by simply mopping it up. NO, THIS MESS, MY MESS, was not going to be a simple fix. Coming to terms with the truth of what I had become, how subtle the transformation seemed to be, how far down the rabbit hole I fell, how comfortable I was with my destructive behavior, even to the point of resenting the prospect of having it challenged, changed, or eliminated, totally unacceptable, boarding on blaspheme. When engaging in something we grow convinced is what we want to do, even to our own detriment, nothing, save the desire to regain our own well-being, drives us to take action. Yes, it is only when we stop turning the figurative gun at ourselves, blowing up our own lives, that healing can start. Determined to take back what I had lost, rebuilding the foundation, I knew the power was mine, it had been all along, like Dorothy in Wizard Of Oz, only magic shoes weren't going to transport me back to the person I had been. That was just fine with me, because, as horrible as it was, my journey hadn't been in vain.

I know there are some whose journeys end differently, mine could have been one of those, but I knew it's always darkest before the dawn, and if we can find our way out of the darkness, the light does return. While fighting to save myself, because I'm worth it, just as we all are, discovery is a part of recovery. Discovery of some forgotten truths about ourselves, and making new ones, it doesn't have to be full of shame, regret, self-hatred, or condemnation. I am scared, that's a part of it, scared of failing, but staying focused on where I'm going, and NOT where I've been, success is attainable. There have been plenty of long-shots, underdogs, and lost causes, written off, doomed to become cautionary tales, and sad footnotes. The odds stacked against them, sometimes, they WIN, the fighter in them, greater than the battle. Battle weary, exhausted to the point of defeat, they find something stronger than any opponent. The most hopeless situations can reveal our inner strength, strength that lifts us out of the deepest pit, the darkest night. If we tap into it, it's more magical, more potent, more marvelous, than any force on earth. As I write this, only a fraction of my story, a long road ahead of me, I pray that those reading my words will be inspired, encouraged, and not alone. There may not be a visible army surrounding you, but rest assured, whatever battles you face, YOU ARE NEVER ALONE-EVER! I promise. May peace be your constant companion, fear be a stranger to you, and may you remember, YOU CAN WIN!