I don’t know how to feel better. Nothing works consistently, even if I’m consistent.
I must figure out how to carry this anger and rage and love and humiliation better than I’ve been carrying it. What works when nothing works?
Sometimes I write it out and feel better. Other times I write and have to lie down.
Help me I’m sad.
Nobody is coming.
I’m nobody’s job now, nobody’s responsibility. The Therapist is no longer burdened with me. He can hurt me and walk away without a look back because I’m not his now.
It is strange to hang from a cliff and know that nobody is coming. There’s a survival energy that wakes up in times like this and it mixes with will, but a will can waver and energy runs out. Some people make it to the top in time, some don’t.
I need to make it on principle and because I want to make it. Perhaps I’m at the top but I’m bruised and sore and broken and in shock so it’s slowly registering that I didn’t fall all the way down. I caught myself, and it hurt bad, but I didn’t fall all the way to the rocks below.
I feel like The Therapist pushed me off the edge. I remember when we talked about how we were both scared of heights and I loved him more for that. It’s brave to admit something like that to somebody you’re in a position of power with. I never wanted to push him off the edge of the cliff. I never expected him to do that to me. I know I called for him after I fell, once I caught myself I called to him for help, but he was gone. I trusted him enough to face my fear of heights with him and he pushed me over the side? Maybe I’m an old fashioned country girl, but that doesn’t seem like a good way to do somebody.
I’m here, and I guess I’m at the top. I hurt bad. I think I’m bleeding and something’s broken, but I know that no help is coming. I have to get up and make it back to base camp and I have to do it alone. I step, I hurt, repeat. Each step is a reminder of the ordeal I’ve been through and is also a small victory.
He will not be at camp when I make it back. There will be no welcome back sign or celebration. My life is made up of beauty, ugliness, pain, joy, loud losses and quiet lonely wins. As I limp along I sometimes cry, sometimes sing, sometimes laugh. When it gets dark I take a break and am ready to walk again when the sun comes up.
I am nobody’s job, nobody’s problem, nobody’s responsibility and no help is coming. I belong to this mountain now, and it will make or break me as only mountains can.