She says that people like me are living in hell on earth. The searing pain of our situation has us grasping at any means possible to escape the torment. Including deciding to climb up the hot aluminum ladder leading up, even though that is sure to cause more pain with each step. Problem is, she says, I've climbed the ladder before, seemingly "out" of my personal hell, but
I've done it on willpower alone. I slog through my disappointment and discontent; I pull up and up into happy and unhappy cohabiting. Beyond that, I keep looking, straining upward, so sure there is something more. Most people are happy just to live in the quiet of this space, and they never glance upward. But I do, and I see a light that leads to another level - joy and despair.
To hold on to the emotion and solution at once is like a hot coal in each hand.
Up here, on my way to radical acceptance of both joy and despair, is where I either fall off the ladder or the level, if I make it that far. Just like that, back in hell.
To be inflated is as certain as to be crushed...extremely good and extremely bad dancing in the neverlands. To be here is to be vulnerable, to risk everything every time. No wonder I fall back in.
How will this next climb ever be different?
Have I any say in recovery at all? The hopelessness of it all weighs me down when I would take flight to escape the burn inside.
Is counting joys safe? I guess not. I keep counting for today - my gesture of radical acceptance of all of this to the universe.
#2052 Bits of joy ARE beginning to creep back in for the cracks
#2057 ice cream on the weekend!
#2061 phone call from a friend at a crucial moment
#2063 husband's cooking
#2068 little hands reaching in the night
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