Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Diving Into the Wreck




"There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it."

"I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail."

"We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear."

-Adrienne Rich



Adrienne Rich passed away recently. When I heard, I was lead to reread Diving Into the Wreck, one of my favorite poems.  And as I did, I smiled, then with tears in my eyes I nodded, because each line resonated with me, rippling through me with waves of new understanding.

I stopped blogging two years ago as I launched into a new approach to dealing with anxiety.  People asked when I would start again but I felt that I shouldn't be writing about something I hadn't yet learned to control.  I was wrong.  We are never in control.  I've had to learn that, more importantly I've had to accept that.  And then I had to learn to cope, and to recover and begin again each time I can't.

I chose a path of regular massage and energy work, intuitive development, understanding what it means to be empathic, and restructuring the way I meditate.  There was medication when I needed it, a supportive community of new friends with unique talents and insights, some therapy, and most importantly an accurate diagnosis of PTSD.

Just as there is no control, there is no perfect past, we all have wrecks to dive into, a collection of experiences that form an individual fingerprint of fear.  Mine is composed largely of of sudden unpredictable tragedies, each of which shook me to the core when they occurred, each of which left damage to be explored. They have demanded my attention at various points in the last few years, pleading for the grief and sorrow that I had denied them each time I pushed them further and further into the depths in my efforts to move on.  I had to descend the ladder and pause on various rungs to survey the damage, to acknowledge: this is when I learned to never feel safe in the world, this is when I learned that the loss of one individual can set into motion the loss of several others in countless minute ways, this is when I learned the fear of abandonment....

My name would not appear in an account of any of those losses.  The stories aren't mine; they are my friend's, my grandfather's, my uncle's, yet they shaped my inner world, burning their own pathways in my brain.  And in accepting that perspective I learned that there actually is rhyme and reason to my bouts of anxiety and to my panic attacks. I learned my triggers, which while many and varied, are all valid and logical when I view them in light of what I've finally taken the time to see. Some I can avoid and others I simply can't. I learned coping mechanisms and I learned that sometimes I can say 'no' when I don't feel strong enough to cope.  I don't have to spend all my time fighting, I'm allowed to rest.

The "treasure that prevails" is in having found a purpose in all of this.  I can recognize pain, fear and trauma in others.  When I look a Reiki client in the eyes and say, "I know, I get it", they are not just empty words.  I can cry with them, I can give them tangible advice, I can refer them with confidence to other types of practitioners that have helped me on this path as well.  Most importantly I can assure them without a doubt that they are not alone, none of us are, not ever.  And somehow, for each individual client, the right words to emphasize that are given to me, in tiny unique ways.  I could not do the work I do now, the way I do now, if I hadn't experienced what I did. The very anxiety that I curse from time to time has opened doors to worlds I couldn't have imagined.  And so, I have to accept it, even embrace it.

I'm in one of my rest periods now.  The sum of what in hindsight has been several months of countless tiny triggers was a panic attack and a half.  It's alright though.  It had been a blessedly long time since I'd had one and it could be a long time until I have another. For now I am done exploring the wreck. I've put myself on a regimen of exercise, spring cleaning, meditating and listening, really listening to what comes across. Today the message was write. And so I wrote......