I have been in therapy for over 20 years, most have been here at the Estuary. I’m still coming and I now get to write for this place. It is a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that I get to write, something my soul has been longing to do since I was a young child. The curse is that I have to write and now I’m being held accountable.
Before my mother died she said to me; “I wish you could stop trying to fix yourself! Why can’t you just be more like me?!”
I have a dining room cupboard filled with dishes and china from relatives who have long since died. I never fully thought about whose they were because my younger sister remembered it all.
She died six years ago.
As I travel through plush lemony woods, I trip on life’s lemons just like anyone else. Sometimes it is comically obvious I cannot see the citrus for the forest.
Recently, I have been so overwhelmed, it seems as if part of my brain is offline. I bump into furniture which I normally navigate unharmed, and I feel like I am functioning outside of the normal timeline. I strain to consider my choices in these lemony situations, and yearn to make the proverbial lemonade. However, my juice has no sweetener. I am worn to a nub, as is my partner. Although we are ‘cup half full’ people, our cup has a leak, and I feel our lives rapidly draining out of it.
The recent tornadoes in the Southeast remind me of my life. There have been some very dark days where everything got turned upside down. Times where I have lost a lot, if not practically everything. I have had to sort through the rubble. I have had to put the pieces back together. I have had to rebuild my life.
A few years ago, I went to Rwanda. I trained for months to have my body ready and able to hike hours in the jungle to see the gorillas Dian Fossey gave her life protecting. I had dreamed of seeing these giant animals whose DNA is almost identical to ours. I had not imagined the impact of seeing them on my mind and my spirit.