Morning has broken

Mornings can be refreshing and they can be rough.  When you’ve had a night of dreams that took you back to traumatic events in your life; nightmares that woke-you with your fists clenched or blasted you into an adrenaline soaked, sweat drenched bed in the early darkness; when you weren’t sure where you were, or pain shattered your thoughts to fragments; when any or all of that happens it’s a rough way to start the day.  “Morning Has Broken” takes on a whole new meaning.  That was my morning today.  Broken.  Waking up from a bad dream my unconscious chose from thousands available in the catalogue of my mind, reaching for my husband (and, yes, I am thankful beyond words for my husband) and not being able to figure out what body part I was touching, trying for his hand, but finding bones under flesh that in my half-awake state made no sense.  Finally, I realized it was his elbow and upper arm but had to get up, get kids to school.  Everything on edge, every nerve poking a foot out from my periphery, and all to easy to set-off into panic, anger, aggression.  There were times when a drink would have helped, and I would have had one, to protect my kids from myself, to tame the Medusa’s head of snakes that my nerve endings felt like, not hanging, but whipping around me, looking for the next threat, anticipating the next hit.  I’ve sworn off it though, taking a drink that early, because it was too easy to keep doing it all day.   It’s a way out of taking on your fears rather than meditating, getting counseling or prescribed medications from a psychiatrist.  I still empathize with those of us who do take that drink, toke, or poison of your choice and am writing this in a shout out to each of you that there are people who can help, people who care.  There are groups where you can share your experiences and not feel like a freak, or worse, a loser.

Each step felt like a desperate, bleeding body was holding on to my ankles today.  Broken mornings can do that.  With the day finally coming to a close, the temptation to numb out after the kids were in bed was irresistible.  Except that I know there are other people like me who need to hear that life hasn’t just gone on since their trauma.  That you aren’t the only person who has to fight every minute some days just to get through.  I feel it, mind and yours, take it on willingly, even if all it does is honor your service, or acknowledge the hell you and your family have been through, whether through war, natural disaster, man’s cruelty to man, the list is endless.  You are not alone.  You are more than any single act of your life, whether it was one you took or one that took from you.  Hold on, and know you are held in my heart, always.  Tomorrow is another day, and it may be broken again, but it may not.  As Pema Chodron has so often quoted from Rilke, “no feeling is final.”  Peace to you, brothers and sisters.  May the night, tonight, be your friend, may it gather you in its arms and comfort you.  May  your soul find solace and rest.  Namaste’.


~ by janetlandis on October 19, 2011.

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