#004 Bullies and boundaries

[About this story: I found myself being bullied by a loved one, and as hard as I tried to manage the situation, nothing improved. My mental health reached a dangerous point and I knew I had to do something drastic. A three minute read.]

Feeble waves lapped at my feet. The bay was at peace, languidly turning over and under to a monotonous rhythm.

Daylight was melting, laying in shimmering pools across the ocean’s surface. Chilly breeze ruffled my hair, and flung a salty puff onto my face. The briny aroma and icy nip provoked my senses, letting me know I was still alive – the emergency had passed.

Minutes previously, (or was it hours?), the tranquil waters had beckoned to me. A watery end would be achievable. The bullying had toppled me. I tried to avoid being toppled. I failed. The darkness finally had me in its clutches. Despair swamped me.

Despair only descends upon me when I have nowhere else to go. Despair is a temporary haven, comforting me with an invitation to a place where the light always shines and unconditional love prevails. Soft cushions in a hard world. It was a tempting invitation. It wasn’t my soul directing me from the beach that evening, it was despair.

Complacency had me believing that I had permanently conquered despair, but there it was befriending me after years of absence. I was unprepared and alone. I was frightened. A soft place to fall verses a relentless battering of words.

A hazy tunnel bridged the shore and eternity – a well-worn path. There would be no battle; liquid fingers would pull at my clothing until I reached the timber piers that would anchor me. Bliss would take me to a place where bullying did not exist.

But not today. Thank god, not today.  

I slumped cross-legged onto the sand, overcome with guilt-polluted relief. I was alive, but at what cost? Tomorrow would bring more of the same unless I could find the courage to let go.

I was caught up in the wild winds of a desperate person, a person so consumed with victimhood that she believed her demands and toxic spiels were valid because emotional pain of decades past shaped her. She was addicted to her story and her pain, not ready to begin to heal herself.

And she loved me, albeit love tainted by the lack of trust. What the hell is love without trust anyway? A farce. A painful struggle. Ours was a dysfunctional love destined for heartbreak from the outset, disguised by naivety and neediness.

I picked myself up from the damp sand and walked to the beachside restaurant, sitting alone in a corner easy-chair and watching the last rays of sunlight cast shadows to the water. It was a beautiful scene, serene and bathed in glorious soft golden light.

Wine lulled me into a more pleasant headspace. My glass sat on the window sill. I kicked off my soggy shoes under the table, and ate my fish and chips with my fingers, staring into space.

And then anger was there. Anger allowed me to feel again. I was oddly grateful for the anger. I walked home in the darkness, mumbling and crying, giving my anger room to be. And it passed, as all things do.

Sleep came, and daylight came. Images of a bridge to inner peace resurfaced. I knew I’d be safer amongst people, so I sat in a café knitting and sipping tea. A stranger gifted me kindness. I absorbed her warmth and I started to heal.

Through the pots of tea and knit-one-purl-one, thoughts came and went. Some thoughts stuck around long enough for me to absorb bits and pieces of value. I recognised why I suffered. What you allow, persists.

I accepted that I played a part in my own suffering (as we all do). Why the hell can't I wise up and learn my lesson and be done with the suffering? Universal law declares that our assigned soul lessons will repeat themselves until we get it, that's why. I get it alright, but I just haven't got the guts to follow through.

Emotionally abusive relationships have been the norm for me. Self-compassion is my lesson. I've figured that bit out, but standing up for my rights is a hard call - to follow through with no when I say no.

There might be other people who will mistreat or manipulate me, but after turning down the ocean's call, I'm determined to deal more wisely with these challenges. My psychotherapist says I have to learn how to set and maintain boundaries.

"Boundaries are necessary for healthy relationships. If others don't respect your boundaries,” said my therapist, “they do not deserve to be a part of your life. Forgive them, send them love, and move on.”

So I figured out it was time to move on. Now I had to do it.

I ended my day of recovery and reflection with a long walk on the beach. Walking is energising. Time amongst nature is nurturing. The sad and painful process of disengagement and letting go of a love that I thought would last a lifetime, will carry me along my path in the direction I am meant to journey. And whatever comes or goes, I will be okay. Eventually.

No one wants to give up on someone they love

such as a relative, friend or lover. But, sometimes we are

forced to make hard decisions
by extraordinary suffering.

Eventually,  you begin to

realise that your powers to guide

or heal others are limited. You finally accept that

their emptiness, pain and dysfunction requires more

than you have to give. You can not love someone

who doesn't even love them self.

Letting go is heartbreaking;

but let go, forgive them, forgive  yourself

and begin the process of healing.

Photography by Gaye Drady

    

#002 The world rushes by

[About this story: my first car accident - people rush by without offering assistance and I wonder if this could really be happening. A two minute read.]

A crunching metallic sound shunted me sideways. Scraping metal, ripping plastic, shattering glass. Sound was my only sense functioning in that moment of inattention. Instinct veered my car off the highway into the service station drive-way and steered onto the footpath, coming to a surprisingly smooth stop. It was only then that I noticed the truck pull into the curb further down the road.

I sat behind the steering wheel, too shocked to move, too frightened to feel. A motorised scooter slowly negotiated the narrow gap between the undamaged side of my car and a concrete curb. The driver didn’t look at me slumped in my seat. He hurried on.

A young woman drove through the debris on the drive-way, and got out to fuel her car just a few metres away. Her eyes met mine briefly. Did she notice my tears? She hurried on.

Did anybody wonder why a damaged car, with a driver, was parked on the footpath?

My body felt weak, I couldn’t get out to survey the damage. The truck driver arrived, genuinely concerned for my well-being. “Yes, I think I’m okay. No, I won’t need an ambulance. Yes, I do have family to call. No, I don’t need coffee. Thank you.” I responded to his questions. His warm-hearted attention and gentle nature was a comfort in a world that was rushing by. He wandered off to check out his truck and make the necessary phone calls after he was satisfied that I was physically uninjured.

I sat in my car on the footpath, alone, for ten minutes. Motorists slowed down as they drove through the mess on the roadside, some stopped for fuel, and the rest motored on. The whole world rushed by. I considered the possibility of being trapped in a dream. My apparent invisibility seemed too unreal for the situation to be real.

A man knocked on the windscreen, and opened the door. He squatted beside me, and touched my hand. His hand was warm, his voice was kindly. His humanness touched my soul and a fresh trickle of tears dripped from my cheeks. He stayed with me until my daughter arrived. I can’t recall his face, and I don’t know his name, but I will always remember the warmth of his hand and the light in his heart.

My daughter dropped her children off at school, and came to my aid. She hugged me and I finally felt safe. The police and fieries turned up and did their respective jobs. I apologised to the truck driver, and he hugged me warmly. My daughter took me home. My car was taken away.

That was yesterday. Today I am alone with my thoughts. The voice in my head shouts at me, admonishes me. I tell it to shut up, but I am practised enough to be aware that it’s impossible to win an argument with the repetitive, know-all chatter in my head when I am emotionally compromised. The commentary goes on and on, cursing and blaming.

I settle myself comfortably in the late winter sun, calming the inner storm. I am human, and I make mistakes. The Universe gives me struggles that contain lessons vital to my growth. I raise my head and speak to the sky: “I am grateful for my life lessons, thank you.”

Ahh, the sunshine is warm and comforting.

Do not ignore the lessons in

your struggles and suffering,

PAIN can be your greatest TEACHER