The Hole

Last night and today have been rough again. I don't share this journey for sympathy. I share it because I want people who suffer to understand set backs happen... A lot! But we GROW through them as we GO through them. Doesn't make it any easier, but going through something means, at some point, that thing will pass. We go through seasons, we don't stay in them. 

I also share my journey to help give a glimpse into the world of PTS (Post Traumatic Stress) to those who have an interest and to those who may know someone with PTS. 

Poetry is one way I deal with my spirals. I'm not a poet. I don't follow any form. The best way I can describe it as a stream of consciousness. I feel it and write it and through that process, I heal. Here is what I wrote this morning during a spiral.

The Hole:

Grasping in the dark.
Desperate.
Falling fast.
How deep does this hole go?

Falling further from the light,
Distinct shapes become blurs,
Blurs becoming pinholes of light.
Thrashing, reaching, scratching, trying to stop the fall.

Falling so fast every root slips through my grasp.
Smashing into the wall,
The echo sounds like a laugh.

Laugh after crash,
After laugh after crash,
Builds a chorus of cacophony.
Another crushing blow to hope.

Clarity, where have you gone?
Was I running to fast
And didn't see the hole?
It goes this way. Walk don't run.

But I'm so far behind the others.

Yes, but when you run you find holes.
You fall from light because you have no plan.

You look scared, sad, solitary, sullen, but not surprised.
You know how to be hopeless.
Are you afraid your wounds will heal?

Is that why you hang onto unhealthy?

Is that why you allow assassins sanctuary in your open heart with knives?

Is that why you bare your naked wrists to the sharp tongued serpent hoping for a smile?

You donate blood and replace it with suffer.
Suffer for success,
Suffer for significance,
Suffer for solidarity,
Suffer for a chance to shake the wrong hand.
You martyr.

You've found your place amongst the suffocating darkness.
Will you stay here?
If given another chance, would you walk?

Yes.

My hand finds a root.
I grasp it
Pain courses through my jarred body,
But the fall stops,
and I slowly start to climb.
Towards the light.

One step at a time.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Hand over hand.
Foot over foot.
Continue.

And so it goes.