When I was little I would stand at the window of my bedroom and stare out into the vastness of our yard. The giant oak trees stretched their limbs towards one another, intertwined, as if they were the guardians of our piece of heaven. This canopy allowed only slivers of moon to filter through onto the lawn. The darkness enveloped me, and yet I felt no fear. I was too young and naive of the world to be afraid of the darkness just yet. The sweet smell of the property would wander into my room and with deep breaths I would let my thoughts drift. I would think of my future husband. Where was he? What was he doing in this exact moment? Would I have to wait patiently for him to find me or would it come sudden full of hurried excitement? Would I be a successful strong independent woman?
Do all little girls imagine this life ahead of them? And does it always turn out to be so drastically different?
After my mother died and the chance to start my own family was ripped away from me, I wandered aimlessly, no direction, nor any motivation to challenge this. I let the wind carry me through my day. Some days were busy enough to keep me distracted, but when I would climb into bed, alone and so far from my family, the Northern California rain would begin to beat down on my roof. I would watch out my window at the sheets of grey filling my world. The sound of raindrops that was once so powerful and full of peace, now pulled me down to the reality of where my heart really stood. Scarred, a large dark red gash running its way from one end to the other. An ugly scar that will never close completely. And a heaviness that seemed to sit on the back of my neck and push my head down into my chest. Where was my childhood dream? Where was he to sweep me away from the pain that seemed to swallow me whole? This isn't how I had imagined it, I shouldn't be here.
I was lost, with no real intention of finding my way out. I just wanted to slide down to my knees, and hide in the darkness. Let the world pass me by, moving fast, lights blurring, scenes changing, and there I crouch, hoping my shroud of darkness would shield me from eyes that slowed down enough to look.
One particular night, as I sat attempting to go through the motions of a normal 18 year old at a party, my brother slipped something into my hand. Take it, he said. It will make you feel happy for a bit. Happy? I don't even stop to ask him what it is. I swallow it and wait for the heavy cloak of my life to lift off my straining neck. I sit and wait for a fleeting moment of happiness, caring little of the chemical chaos I just so readily invited into my brain. And then it hit me. Not a slow moving stream that lightly carried me to a place of peace. But a crashing wave that began at the top of my head and surged down to my toes. This wave kept crashing over and over down my back, sending the sweetest tingle out towards the tips of my fingers and toes. I glance and with eyes wider than ever, taking in more of the world I attempted to hide from, drinking in the smells, the sights, and the touch. Oh god, the touch, my friend, lightly streaming her fingertips along my back, the sensational tingling spreading to my spine and down my legs. How can this pill make my life so sweet? I move from room to room, my cheeks beginning to hurt as if the muscles I use to smile have been dormant too long. I excitedly talk nonsense like the girl that used to stare out the window onto the vast yard, to anyone that will stop and listen. A strong desire fills my heart to walk, run, sprint into the night air. I move with a quickness so long forgotten by my body. I twirl over and over, watching the stars merge into bright silver lines dancing quickly with me, following me as I turn faster and faster. And when I stop, the waves begin again, at the top of my head and down to my toes. The dizziness of spinning out of control has heightened exponentially, and fills me with such euphoria I gasp, and throw my head back. And I watch, as I take deep breaths and exhale to fill the night air with warm steam from my lungs. I clench my jaw over and over again, curl my toes, and let myself sink into this moment of pure silky ecstasy.
When I wake, the sun stinging my eyes and my neck feeling once again heavy, I move room to room in search of my brother. I am acutely aware of that ugly scar, and how it pulls me back into the darkness. But I don't want to crouch any more and watch the world pass in a blur. I want to lay on my back and make the stars shine brighter, feel the tingling again. I want to spin in circles only to stop abruptly and feel the waves crashing through my body. I want to make my own world blur.
Hey, brother, can we do it again?
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