I keep waking up thinking it’s the day I’m going to write about the accident, and then something happens and I don’t. That one event in my life has been such a huge piece of me, and I know there’s anka black hole of space and time that I’ve wrestled with for most of my life. But it was on January 24, 2014, we years later, I got my first memory breakthrough around what happened; and the second memory breakthrough came February 23rd, 2014. As a precursor to the breakthroughs, I’d been doing lots of soul searching, cord cutting, yoga, meditation and healing work; and the inner work was paying off. But you can’t appreciate the memory breakthroughs I had until you’ve heard about the black hole I had in my mind & heart for 20 years.
But it’s hard to write about it. I sometimes get scared that what I’ve remembered isn’t correct and someone who was there will tell me something different, and that will derail my fragile healing journey. To write that fear down now makes me realize how silly that anxiety is and how it’s just me in my own way of healing my heart. But isn’t it always? ;)
And what else is silly is what I keep putting in the way of me writing about what happened. I create far more reasons for it not to be “THE” day to write about the accident than I do for it to be the perfect day. And various excuses I make are: I didn’t get enough sleep, I didn’t wake up early enough, Aurora wants to be held, I’m hungry, I’m grumpy or I had something else that needed my attention. I’ve also told myself that the perfect writing scenario for me would be I’d go to bed around 8pm, wake up at 3:45 and write until 5:30 or 6, and then I can be fully with Aurora and take the day to revisit my words and tune them and share them. But that perfect schedule is certainly not a given, and happens somewhat seldom, which means it’s time to shift my definition and relationship with what I feel are ideal conditions for me to write.
But really, the conditions are the conditions, and I’m the one who makes them right or wrong, which is a little annoying to come to grips with.
And today when I explained this first world “problem” to Adam he responded that writing through my stories is supposed to be bringing me joy, but it seemed the opposite was happening. So we needed to look at how I’d created the conditions for my writing to bring me frustration and not joy. I’s created a story; that if I write then I feel accomplished and good and if I don’t write, then I feel funky and I’ve failed. Hmm, that story is certainly giving me a lot of time to feel funky, while also giving me a narrow window of success. And I’m really just coming to grips with this now. But the good news is that it’s showing me I want to share more, that I’m ready to share more and I’m excited to share more. So now it’s a matter of me setting up my life in a way to really support myself, which goes hand in hand with accepting and embracing the times when life has handed me something else to give my energy to. I’m seeking peace with the process.
So now that I’ve gotten that said and out of the way, I feel like I can begin to share by starting with what happened the week before and the day before on April 2nd 1994, the day my life changed.
But I’ll do that tomorrow.