My dark place was more than a figurative spot. I felt drawn to the rec room in my basement where I drank my coffee, in the dark, and laid on the couch until I felt up to emerging. I admit that I was hiding. From myself? From life? I'm not sure. I needed to clear the storm cloud hanging over my head before I could stand in the light.
I let a wave of sadness and despair colour my normally optimistic and determined self. The wave pinned me down and wouldn't let go. I had to borrow some of my husband's strength until my own returned.
I started somatic therapy last week. Somatic therapy (my abbreviated definition) considers the relationship and connection between mind, body, spirit, and emotions; and proposes that past emotional and traumatic events can have lasting effects on the central nervous system. It seems like a good fit, and I hope it helps me. For a pain-and-suffering-adverse person like myself, these past years have been very difficult. To say the least.
I don't want to be here. In this place of pain and suffering. I'm tired of hurting.
Yet here I am. Working through life the best way that I can. Wanting to make a difference. Hoping to make the world a better place.
Maybe it means something. Maybe it means nothing. And maybe someday it will end.
