Baby steps

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I opened my eyes and could immediately sense the storm. Today would not be another sunny day, and for a split second I felt the faint sensation of myself trying to get through. Just barely above the muddy edge of that stinking pit appeared what looked like a small hand, and I grabbed it, and I didn’t let go.

I got up, stopped thinking of aches and pains and pits, and looked around while taking the first wiggly steps. Not much there yet, still semi blind and numb to my surroundings, but my brain worked hard to reconnect again. I could feel it. Good enough! Plenty more than yesterday’s limp, lifeless rag doll; tossed down the dark bottom of something big enough to land an airplane.

Barefoot I walked up to the bedroom window. There it was! A blissfully overcast sky. Stormy and beautiful! I pulled an old rubber band out of the bamboo bowl on my nightstand and put my hair up, then walked downstairs in my underwear. No need to get dressed just yet, I knew what to do.

I got out the cleaning supplies, and scrubbed away on my knees for hours, literally. I cleaned the foggy rooms to exhaustion. Forcing these demons inside of me out, through every pore of my body while my sweat dropped over the almost 200 year old wooden planks. Thoughts of monasteries, clear mountain air, high pines, and something about finding peace in what you do at this very moment; until my mind exhausted itself as well. I refused to give in even one more day. I refused to look into the mirror one more time, and see a stranger with hollow eyes. Not one more hour of this defused lit soul, struggling like a sinking fishing boat in deep waters; an old beaten lantern inside the tiny cabin, swaying left and right, ready to fade any second, until there is just a dark, stormy ocean with no hope. No little light for anyone to make out in the dark. No!

It is raining buckets. The humid, hot air is finally washed away by a glorious thunderstorm, as I am making my way through the downstairs rooms. I plug in the light string over the book shelf, loving the warm glow. The raindrops are clinging in glittering threads on the windows. I make out the shadows of trees and passing by cars. Tim McCraw, Amy McDonald, Lorde and Debussy made for an interesting mix. No more ballades of despair which I cannot afford. A chime from my phone, a text about the annoying weather from someone who hates the rain. I love the rain. No need to complain about this beauty of a cloud ridden sky which rings in the early autumn I so long for!

…………………….(End of this segment/Beginning of chapter 7/1)

Love and Strength as always!

Simone

Simone van Hove-Emery@All rights reserved

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