In the eye of a hurricane…

It can feel like standing still. Whilst all around you moves at high speed. ‘In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet, for just a moment’ - but it isn’t a moment and it’s not quiet. It’s loud, ears ringing, heart pounding, trying to catch your breath to breathe and everything is shaking. But you, I, me, we are not. Feet set in lead boots to the floor, time has no meaning and there is no way out. Smiles, laughter, conversations, hugs, tears; hours or days or just seconds. ‘You’re doing so well’, ‘I knew this would pass’, ‘why not smile?’, ‘great to see you’ve moved on’, ‘all fine? That’s brilliant’. Let them. Let them. Let them.

They don’t want to be in the club that understands you will never move on. It will never pass. You are not learning to outrun the hurricane, you are learning to move within it. To travel from place to place despite its wind or rain, to embrace its chaos, the havoc it causes and live life anyway. Seconds, minutes, hours - they will never have any meaning but all that matters is you are still here, I, me, we are still here.

Worry Lines (@worry_lines)

It’s hard to explain how much this life has never been mine. I have wandered around within it, always looking for an answer, for something else, for escape. I thought maybe that was by walking into the sea. Or drinking, most often food and for a while it was running. None of these things gave my life meaning or purpose. Now, maybe I’m learning what my purpose is? Spending time with other women who share my story and in that connection believing there may be hope. Glimmers. That’s where we live our lives. Those small moments that counteract all the pain and anguish, even if for a second. We have to hope they are worth it at the end. But when we are together, or talking, or sharing - that connection becomes like family. We may have had no one in the past, but we can have each other now.

My life has changed beyond recognition, this substack space is almost freedom to fully express what most have guessed or know. Every day is chaos, until it isn’t. And I’m tired. New spaces to explore. New places to understand. A new person to become. But I’m tired. And the old person does not want to let go without a fucking fight. But they don’t need to let go. I need to bring them with me. This has always been our journey. I would not be here without them. And they need me now. Perhaps that’s why I’m paralysed with fear, I am not enough.

I know that this doesn’t make much sense. I know it’s going to read like garbage to some. But I know to others it is a perfect collection of thoughts we dare not speak. We are allowed to speak. To untie ourselves from the darkness and say ‘enough’. We always were enough. We still are enough. We can be enough. But we can also take our time. We can pause. It may feel out of our control but it doesn’t have to be. In the eye of the hurricane there is quiet, just for a moment…. ‘I wrote my way out’ - WRITE Angel implores me every time I get stuck, write as it’s how you process, how you make sense, WRITE. I am running out of time. Which means I’d best write like I am.

If this make sense to you. I see you. I hear you. I believe you.

x

(With thanks to Lin-Manuel Miranda for lending me some of his words, if you haven’t yet - just go and see Hamilton!)