The Shadow of the Holidays

“Joy” - Philadelphia, PA, December 2023

I spent this past Christmas alone. My family experienced their first bout of COVID the week before. I was fully immersed in my new role amidst the typical year-end busyness of a bustling nonprofit. As the holiday inched closer, an idea sprouted and I wondered if I’d survive.

Some of the deepest wounding of my upbringing (and my lineage) centered around holidays. Last year, as Christmas neared, I realized that I was being presented with an opportunity to face my deepest-held fear. I asked myself what it might be like to spend Christmas alone. I sat with what I would tell myself and what I would tell others. I considered the internal dialogue that might occur as I sat with my own solitude during “the most wonderful time of the year”. I was genuinely curious about whether I could live through it.

Four months earlier, I awoke the day after the dissolution of a relationship in which I envisioned a future and uttered seven words that shook me to my core. As I stirred in the morning light, my first thought was, “what do I have to live for?” I sat with an immense sadness at the very depth of my soul and immediately recognized this was not the seemingly simple question it appeared to be. Rather, it set off five alarm level fire warnings internally.

While the despair I felt in that very moment was unfamiliar to me personally, it felt inexplicably recognizable. Mental health challenges have long since been the biggest fear of my life. Existing as this lurking, dark shadow for as long as I can remember, I’ve been trying to outrun the deep-seated patterns of imbalance. Suicidal ideation, and follow through, have been woven through both sides of my lineage. What I experienced in those early morning moments last August touched a vastness so deep, it felt like it had the potential to swallow me whole.

Instead of diving deeper into its depths, I knew I had to take notice of the gravity of my current situation and mental health state. Unlike so many of the generations before me, I had resources.

I made a series of calls to a handful of beloveds and unabashedly explained how I was feeling. For someone who struggles with articulating her needs and asking for help, I realized this as an another fight for survival. I credit these sweet souls with intimately and carefully holding me as I shared my most tender vulnerabilities and asked for what I needed. And, I recognize and am proud of myself for reaching out and saving my own life.

“Joy Too” - Airborne over Philadelphia, PA, September 2023

I’m incredibly afraid of heights. Yet, a week after my darkest hour, I jumped out of a plane, not as a death wish, rather, in the spirit of it being a life wish. I asked myself that same pivotal question, with a different inflection point, “What do I have to live for?”

I’ve answered that question repeatedly in the choices that I’ve made since August. With the help of my therapist, I devised a safety plan that has served as the foundation upon which I have intentionally fabricated a healthier scaffolding. I’ve mindfully rebuilt my life these last nine months.

I’ve cultivated meaningful relationships. I discovered a myriad of communities and activities that have breathed life back into my very soul. From authentic relating to ecstatic dance to dragon boating, each time I connect and dance and paddle, I am choosing life over and over again, affirming my will to live. I have crafted a safety net that my ancestors never knew. I am healing the lineage each time I hit the dance floor, float on the water and share my story.

As I reflect on the life I’ve lived, I choose to face my fears head on - again and again.

I decided to spend Christmas alone in hopes of meeting the very thing I’ve spent a lifetime fearing. I’ve met myself in the rawest forms. I’ve met my anxiety and depression. I’ve met my resilience and my triumph. I’ve met my heartbreak and my despair.

I continue to meet my shadow. I continue to meet my light.

I continue to navigate the waters of loneliness and am growing to accept myself moment by moment. ♥

Resources:

♥ If you are struggling with your mental health or are having thoughts of suicide, the National Suicide Hotline is available to via talk, text or chat at 988.

♥ Through the International Association for Suicide Prevention's website, you can access your country’s resource lines if you are feeling like you may harm yourself.

♥ Hey Sam is a peer to peer texting program for youth feeling lonely, depressed or having thoughts of suicide. They can be reached by texting 439726 from 9am to midnight EST.

♥ Trevor Lifeline is available 24/7 to assist LGBTQ+ youth in crisis by texting 679678.

The Current

Poking my head above the surface, I spotted the shoreline in the distance. Wave after relentless wave pounded me. Swimming as hard as I could, my fatigue built with each stroke. I felt the water violently shift and noticed the myriad of colorful fish around me likewise fighting the current. My breathing became erratic. I was going nowhere and tiring quickly. Again lifting my head above the water, I realized I was alone.

Submerging myself in the turbulent sea, I concentrated on my breath noisily echoing through my snorkel. I mindfully returned it to a steady, calm rhythm. I attempted to close the distance between my flailing being and the rocky shore. Looking ahead, I noted a couple reaching the safety of the beach. I took off my mask and snorkel, looked up at the cloudless sky and pled for guidance. As I recalled the numerous fatalities I’d read about in Hawaiian waters, I shivered with the feeling I may become one of them. Taking on water as the waves continued to pummel me, I heard myself exclaim, “Help! Help!”

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“Ahu” - Oahu, Hawaii, July 2019

Fortunately, my distress calls were heard. As his gentle blue eyes and huge lashes met mine, I knew I was going to be okay. He grabbed my hand and we exhaustedly battled the current together.

Reflections in the last two weeks since my near-drowning, unveil parallels to my transition back from Peace Corps service in South Africa.

These last several months have been painful. Simple tasks have been arduous. Reorientation has seemed impossible.

Several practitioners told me I was suffering from PTSD from the varied tumult I lived through in South Africa. My sadness mounted. My mood was heavy. My self-imposed isolation intensified. The shadow was pervasive.

The dam broke on my emotions. 27 months of trauma accosted me like the relentless Hawaiian waves. I was adrift, seemingly lost in the current.

Muscling through wasn’t working. I finally asked for help.

A tearful visit to my Primary Care Physician resulted in a prescription for the first psychotropic drug of my life, which I dutifully filled, popping my first dose before leaving the medical campus. Once I returned home, a conversation with a friend about my rote drug consumption echoed the whispers of shame I’d been experiencing since my calls for help on that Kauai beach.

Shame hissed, “Why not try alternatives? Acupuncture? Herbs? Why not try swimming with the current until you broke free? Why did you take the medication without doing more research? Why were you snorkeling alone? Why did you ask for help? Why can’t you get it together?”

I stopped the shame spiral by recognizing the truth.

I was exhausted.

I did the best I could with what I had at the time.

I was fatigued.

Could I have eventually reached shore on my own? Could I have healed this shadow on my own?

Maybe.

The prospect of mustering my meager swimming skills was as plaguing as identifying healers in my new city.

I was depleted.

Could I have done things like I normally do, on my own, muscling through, trying to prove how strong I am?

Maybe, but I have learned.

I emerged from the Pacific Ocean the day of my rescue grateful for only three cuts on my leg. I feared the residual effects of a shaken mind, body and spirit would bar me from the sea during my remaining time on the islands. Three days later, though, I relished the sanctuary of the crystal waters, despite a couple flashbacks. As I floated along, I reeled myself back into the present. The next day, I donned a snorkel for the first time since my rescue. In murky waters in search of turtles, I had two flashbacks, but was able to calm myself, orient and self soothe. The next day, I desired to take full advantage of snorkeling in Hawaii’s fishbowl. I utilized orientation and mindful breathing to enjoy the experience.

Our survival skills, much like our healing abilities, are innate. We cultivate connection without even knowing it. We want to show up for one another in our most desperate moments.

It is not weak to ask for help, whether mumbling it through choking tears at a doctor’s office, hurtling the request over treacherous seas or merely requesting it in your normal tone on an average Tuesday.

Through a powerful combination of therapy, medication, meditation, energy healing, time, space and love, I started feeling the first flutters of my Self right before my trip to Hawaii. With each practice, pill, conversation, tap, session and asana, I capture a little bit more of my breath, reclaim a little bit more of my light and return to the woman I thought I’d lost. The tide almost took me under, but hope keeps me afloat. Regardless of the current, I’m going to keep swimming. ♥

 Resources and a Request:

♥ I’ve read a lot about currents and snorkeling since my sea rescue two weeks ago. Snorkel Bob’s, a gear rental company in Hawaii recommends a minimum of 5 minutes of snorkel meditation before entering the water. Snorkel meditation includes watching the surf, current and surge on the reef and rocks.

♥ Peter Levine, a leader in the field of trauma work, created Somatic Experiencing, which teaches that trauma must be resolved in the body before it may be effectively processed emotionally and cognitively. Levine describes orienting as, “the primary means a through which the animal tunes into its environment. These responses are constantly merging into one another and adapting to allow for a range of reactions and choices”.

♥ I’m incredibly grateful for Julian, the young man who rescued me in Kauai. In this moment, please send him some love and gratitude for his selfless heroicism.