At the Big Event (which I have posted about and will most likely continue to post about ad nausuem) we were asked, "What makes you tired?" It was our second gathering, but our first 'let's get to it' discussion. I made a concerted effort to be an active listener and not spend the time before my turn thinking of what I was going to say. In fact, I honestly think I could tell you what other folks said, or at least come close.
So when it came my turn I hadn't dwelled on it at all but what came out was the loneliness of the high road. I talked about feeling as if I was on the top of a cliff and for as far as I could see there was no one else there. I wasn't going to jump (for you therapists out there), it was just an image of how alone I felt, and that made me tired. My feelings of isolation and loniless had made my view dark and painful.
Since returning I have had our church's first softball practice without tdx. I have literally turned around in the gym and run right into TOW1. I have been told by tdx that TOW2 is moving up here Sunday... this Sunday.
And yet, my viewpoint has changed. These are no longer symptoms of the dark forces coming to get me. These are hurdles to jump, minor incidences to ignore and painful moments to recognize and then move on from there. Having returned from the BE I still remain on the high road. The cliff remains part of my imagery but now I am facing the other direction. I have reached the end of that road and I have begun a new journey. And now when I look around me there is a large group of women (and men) surrounding me and supporting me.
After the loss of our first child my wise friend came to preach amongst my congregation and he gave everyone permission, no matter how big or small their own wounds may be, to say, "Ooo, that hurts."
The difference for me since the BE is that I can say, "Ooo, that hurts," but instead of my viewpoint only being my wound or my lonely cliff, my viewpoint is the gathering of saints around me via computer, phone and last minute pizza plans and I can hear about 20 women plus my parents and other friends I was ignoring say, "Damn straight it hurts... but you're going to be alright."