Untethered

My brother and I were taken to the neighbor’s house next door while the police processed the scene. At some point, we were brought back home and I remember seeing our family doctor, a police officer, and other adults. My mom told me that my dad had died. There had been an accident and he had gone to heaven. God wanted my dad to be in heaven with Him. I had no idea what all of this meant. I remember a growing sense that whatever had happened was bad. My heart was racing. My mind searched to understand. I slept that night in my parent’s bed. I remember making a simple prayer to God. I asked that He make sure that my dad went to heaven.

……

For the second time in my life and at the age of eighteen, I stood at a casket looking upon a man I loved dearly, trying to find the words, and the way to say good-bye. This time, I was taller and saw clearly into the casket. This time, I was older and stood there by myself. This time, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do.

I stood there and considered the intensity of the word ‘good-bye’. I wasn’t only saying good-bye to this man. I was saying good-bye to everything; all of my hopes, my dreams and everything I thought possible for me. This wasn’t just a good-bye to him; this was a good-bye to me. I made a silent, solemn vow. I will never let anyone get close to me. I will figure out how to stop feeling once and for all. No one has my back, it’s just me against the world.

……

I was twenty-eight years old and spinning on all cylinders. I had been on this course since graduate school – maybe even high school and college. It was impossible for me to do anything other than work. I rarely took personal time off and even I when I did, I created situations and opportunities to work. Even before the Blackberry®, I stayed as “plugged in” to the workplace from wherever I was. It consumed me. I slowly began to find myself in a tired state that I couldn’t shake. I woke up in the early hours of the morning and looked at my darkened eyes and ashen face and couldn’t remember when I had last seen the sun. I had a few conversations with people who expressed concern about my well-being and work-driven lifestyle. Yet, no one considered it an addiction or something negative. I believed I was a hard-working, driven career woman. I was putting in my time in order to accelerate, achieve, and grow. I had an enormous capacity for work. I always had, and I felt that I might as well use it now to take me where I wanted to go; except I had no idea where I was going. I only knew work was my escape from everything I didn’t want to face.

……

The last thing I needed was patience. Recovering memories is a painstaking process. A memory recovery could take days, weeks, months, or years. Forcing a recovery could cause severe damage. It could interfere with the recovery of other memories. My mind had been keeping things from me for a reason. My subconscious mind would let my conscious self know only when it was ready to deal with it. I needed to respect the process and be patient. I was not a patient person, and I spent those first moments frustrated with myself. The more frustrated I became, the more I locked myself out of the one thing I wanted - to remember. I learned to be patient if only with this part of my life.

......

I looked at them both and asked simply, “What do you want me to do here?” I had reached an impasse with my writing; specifically, writing this book. I had imagined how it would go, and up to this point, it had played well. I was eager to see how it ended. At this moment, however, I was given pause. Somehow, something seemed different. I was different. Everything was different. I stared out over the red rocks of Sedona. I paused as my gaze rested upon Cathedral Rock. My mind briefly re-visited the past five years, the many hikes up that rock, and all I accomplished within myself. I shifted back and looked at the two of them sitting there.

……

I assured them that we will walk forward into our life as a peaceful warrior, wounded, but not defeated. We will sit with a quiet assurance and a steady confidence in who we are and what we bring to the people we love. We have scars. These scars are our quiet reminder of the journey we led, and our undeniable courage to keep fighting and keep trying.