At some point during the year I noticed there was no more gravity, I wasn't plummeting to some untimely disaster. I was okay, I was in pain and exhausted but if there was no gravity I didn't really need a parachute to protect me from ending up splattered on the ground. Believe me I still felt like I was falling, I just wasn't accelerating. It was almost like there was seen and unseen help being offered along the way to remind me to trust.
Despite the fact that I feel like I am falling, there is no gravity. Despite the fact that I feel like all I am is the pain, I am also the person asking for help. Despite the fact that I feel like I am grasping at a parachute that is not there, I am still being handed tools.
As the year progressed, I found useful tools, I tried tools that weren't useful and things continued to fall away. Eventually it felt like there was no longer any ground as more events happened through out the year. I was in this difficult to describe space, hence me searching for metaphors that I know nothing about, having never actually jumped out of an airplane. It was the space where my life was different, where the future was uncertain, where I didn't put so much focus on "why?," and at the same time I was aware of the fact that it was okay.
Of course this sounds like a wonderful linear progression, it is not. There are still times where I am frantically grasping for a parachute, where I desperately want there to be a parachute. I just spend a lot more of my time aware of the fact that I am okay even though it feels like nothing is okay.
Some days I long for the illusion of being on the ground before I ever got on the metaphorical airplane. The illusion that pain is something to be fixed and that you can go back to the person you were, but who doesn't long to go back home?
Question of the day: How can you focus on being a bit kinder to yourself today? What in your world needs a bit of appreciation?