I Couldn't Save Her

August 6, 2017

 Photo: danidandoodle

 

 

I couldn’t save her. She had chosen to absorb herself in addiction as a means of coping with constant unease about her many Bad Life Decisions.

 

As we all do, perhaps. When she felt overwhelming restlessness, or made a mundane decision only before replaying exactly no more or less than 327 alternative choices over and over again in her mind, moods of paralyzing loneliness and panic strangled her. She became used to not being able to breathe and distracted herself with a enchanting array of poisons in an attempt to escape her own very existence.

 

I couldn’t save her. When the self-help books brought her no instantaneous answers, she turned to meditation, then wine, then vodka, a therapist who told her to please stay away from vodka and maybe try yoga, a little bit of yoga, a lot of yoga, and then again to meditation.

 

She was taught living with mental dis-ease is unspeakable, shameful, ugly. And that She was therefore unspeakable, shameful ugly. But she did not yet appreciate how all of us are struggling at various eras of our lives, and always have. We exist in a fluid state of ups and downs that resembles an ocean – sometimes you’re riding a wave high into the glittery moonlight with a fat grin spread-eagled across your face and other times you are nothing more than numb ball of flesh, sinking wildly, like a cannonball in the sea, too bursting with depression to even bat an eyelash.

 

I couldn’t save her until she comprehended it is the ebb and flow of life that keeps us sane. If we were gifted with everything we craved all the time, we would not evolve. We would merely expire.

 

And, oh my, how she was so very close to expiring at least a thousand times. She was imprisoned in her head, unable to realize her experiences were those of all those who have come before her, and all of those who are yet to be. She slammed the door unto herself and unbolted it for no one – not even herself.

 

Her hair grew jet black, then snowy, then silver. And she learned – through fifty-seven elongated years of torturous trial and error – to listen to her intuition and trust that omnipresent innate Voice that says All-Is-Well. She observed her loves ones die and mourned all of negative thoughts she allowed to pass through her and turn her heart to ice.

 

She started to stroll along the ocean alone, just to taste the energy of it all. She ate the most mind-blowing peach of her entire life, and suddenly she fancied to live again. She learned by feeling united to the simplicity of life and the energy that bonds as all as one, she would, and will, always be content, exuberant, blessed.

 

I couldn’t save her, because she saved herself when she told me about the secret of life: “We are merely souls living in soul jackets,” she said, her silver hair reflecting the fierce moonlight off the waves. “We are atoms, we are energy, we are vibration, we are enough.”

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