Last year, I wanted to die.
It started off as a desire for sleep, because that was the only time the painful knot under my ribcage was quiet. Then I began to watch longingly after birds, butterflies and other creatures who enjoyed a type of freedom that I had never never experienced. Realizing that the lives of insects were more fulfilling than my own left me depressed, to say the least.
My own accomplishments should have given me fulfiment, and certainly my children brought me a measure of joy. But something was missing. A great well inside of me was empty, and trudging through each day was like running through water. Everything felt terribly wrong.
I did understand that this was a mental and emotional prison of my own creation. I knew this because when I envisioned how I wanted my life to be, I felt a lightness in my chest that pushed the darkness aside for a bit. But in my mind, that glimmer of hope may as well have been shining from another galaxy. I did not have the energy to reach for it, much less make my way to it. Instead of fighting for myself, I sealed myself into a closet of misery, which was fitting in many ways.
This space was safe. I understood how things worked here: be a good mother… remain in a passionless marriage…don’t act gay…love an inaccessible woman…work 12 hour days (and still never make a dent in the pile on my desk), pretend everything is fine…lather… rinse…repeat.
And when the cycle became too much to bear, I cried in private, slept as much as i could, and quietly hoped I would not wake up the next morning.
But there were things to take care of first. My mother’s home, essentially a shrine since her death, needed to be cleared out and rented. Things put in order for my children. Loose ends tied neatly and tucked away. Action gave way to motivation, and as I got to the work of wrapping up my life so I could comfortably die, things began to shift.
I took two weeks off work and away from the bustle of kids and home to clear out my mom’s house. I touched every item in her home, found things I hadn’t seen in decades, discovered bits and pieces of her life I never knew existed…all the while, feeling her guiding me and giving me precious signs to let me know I was doing the right thing.
When I felt stronger, I said goodbye to the love interest who had ruled my heart and mind for so long. Letting her go was a painful and confusing process; we did not end up where we thought we would. But we are both absolutely stronger and wiser from our union, and that will become even more clear to both of us over time.
A dear old work colleague thought of me when a wonderful new job opportunity at a great company arose. I left the endless stress of a thankless management position and am able to say that I now work with good friends in a great atmosphere.
One by one, the things that plagued my mind were sorted out. And at some point during that time, I was blessed with a friend whose journey mirrored my own in many ways. Without asking anything in return, she offered unconditional love and friendship, and along with that, encouragement through words and actions that were a balm to my broken confidence. She recognized in me, all of the tools needed to get to the other side of my mountain. She gently directed my attention to them and offered a helping hand as I stepped over the fence to gather them up. Perhaps I can convince her to share a bit of her healing energy here on Finally Felix at some point. It is a gift that should absolutely be shared.
I am not at the end of this road in any way. The mountain is still rocky and steep. But the progress I’ve made in these 4 years is nothing short of amazing. I am more sure of my footing. I trust my gear. And I can finally look up from the path to take notice of the stars, breathe in the fresh air, and enjoy the way the sunlight feels on my skin.
This is absolutely my journey…me, Felix alone…and I will make every step count.