Two roses stand strong
within their protective thorns
Entwined by years of friendship
they share secrets, thoughts, laughter, and tears
They sway with the whispering breeze
as they bloom and grow
mesmerizing all with the wisdom of their ageless beauty
©Alexis Rose; image: pexels.com
It’s finally Spring and gorgeous where I live. We endured a brutal winter, and a snowstorm in April, but now there is a definite shift and it’s Spring. Yesterday, to celebrate the warmth, I took my dog for a car ride. Besides noticing all the other dogs smiling with their heads hanging out of their car windows, I took note of all the people out for a walk. As I passed a certain intersection I said aloud, “I hope you’re doing okay!” It was a shout-out to someone I haven’t consciously thought about in quite some time. He is always in my heart, but I haven’t seen or talked to him in over ten years.
This morning, I bounded out of bed and was compelled to go for a walk. Right now, right then, no waiting until after morning coffee or breakfast, I just needed to go for a walk. I grabbed the dog and out the door, we went. As we were rounding the corner a truck stopped on the side of the road. A man got out, and said, “Alexis, is that you?” I was stunned! The person who got out of the truck was the good Samaritan who helped my daughter after she was hit by a car while crossing the street eleven years ago. The person I was thinking about yesterday, the one I sent out the message of, “I hope you’re doing okay.”
Was this just a bizarre coincidence? Maybe! We both live in the same city so perhaps it was bound to happen. But it hadn’t happened in all these years until this morning.
I’ve had a trying and unsettling two weeks. Feelings and emotions that I had continued to minimize throughout my healing process have found their way to the surface leaving me with a choice. Continue to repress, or begin to honor what is bubbling to the surface. It may sound like an easy decision, but it wasn’t for me.
I knew I wouldn’t be retraumatizing myself or opening old wounds, but I would be revisiting some feelings and emotions at a much deeper level. That’s not a comfortable exercise. The result is more healing, but it’s never easy for me to work through the truth of my past.
Part of healing from PTSD is being able to tell your story as much as you need to and want too. That takes a tremendous amount of trust in the person you are talking too. I have a lot of attachment issues as a result of my trauma. Trust is hard; even with a wonderful therapist.
I kept questioning, why is this happening now? Why am I having these feelings? Why do I want to share my story? I already shared it, processed it, shared it again and processed more. Then I stopped.
I’ve written a couple of posts lately, wondering if I was shaming myself into silence again. My therapist kept reassuring me that it’s okay. I’ll know if and when I need to go deeper. I didn’t think I would ever want to go deeper. But apparently, my mind and body are ready. My PTSD symptoms have left me feeling terrible and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.
The other day, my therapist asked me, “do you trust me?” I didn’t even hesitate, I answered, “Yes, yes I completely trust you.” She then said,” I was safe, she was safe, the people I know and love are safe, and that it’s okay.” I believe her. I know the nature of PTSD. Sometimes symptoms will be greater than other times. But, I also know that some of my symptoms will lessen if I do a little more work.
I don’t know why now is the time to work on these emotions and beliefs. But, I do know this: When my daughter got hit by the car, that was the “event” that broke the illusion that I could control my snow-globe world I had created. When I hung up the phone after talking to her in the ambulance, that is when I heard the sound of glass breaking in my head and had the most intense flashback of myself sitting alone at a tiny airport. When I got to the hospital 20 minutes later to be with my daughter, I met the person who ran across four lanes of traffic to help her. When my daughter recovered from her injuries that is when I could no longer repress my past and I began to heal. I have healed a lot, and I live the best life I can with complex PTSD. Yet, some things are bubbling to the surface.
Maybe the why now doesn’t matter. Maybe what matters, is that its time. My body, mind, and spirit are telling me that it will be okay. That all conspiring universe knew ten years ago, that I was ready and it was time to begin to heal, and I trust that it knows now.
So, Okay Universe, I’m listening!
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
Wishes and Dreams
Gratitude and Peace
Hope and Faith
Trust
Self-acceptance with compassion
Letting go with confidence
Finding the beauty in
Full moons
and
Crunchy leaves
That’s both
the Justice and the Restitution
Hello and Welcome
to the next 365 days
©Alexis Rose, Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash
Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
By chance of the alphabet, we sat next to each other as young children in school. We instantly bonded and became the best of friends. Together, we learned how to navigate the social awkwardness of middle and high school. The highs and lows of liking boys, and figuring out how and where to fit in with the other girls. Always knowing that we had each other, no matter what the other cliques were doing. Her house a warm escape from the terrors of my own existence.
The day I turned seventeen, I moved to another state. Standing in her driveway, I got into my brother’s car. Waving goodbye, we drove away, going to a place that I had barely heard of, and didn’t know a single person. My best friend, my rock, my place of refuge moving further and further away in the rear-view mirror.
Those first years after I left, on the phone and in letters we shared how it felt to move out and get our first apartments, the excitement of coming of age, dancing the nights away, and sharing the news of new loves, and then loves heartbreak.
In our twenties, we meet our mates and begin the next step in adulthood. Marriage and children occupied our time, but whenever we talked, we could always slip back to the cadence of girlish laughter, shared memories, the ease of a forever friend.
Then life took us on different paths. Our bond was still strong, but now we are not only separated by geography, but also by responsibility, needs, and exploring different lifestyles.
Both of us personally struggle with tragic and ever-changing family events, we try to keep in touch but it’s sparse and quick. We knew that it was okay because we silently trusted that this was also a part of the life of our friendship. No matter the time and distance the embers of that unbreakable bond were still glowing. A forever lit coal, just waiting.
Finally, after decades apart we are able to come together. We have been able to spend days and nights catching up. So much has changed in our lives. It hasn’t been easy for either of us. The trials of life, of health, of death, of finding our inner strength.
The wonderfulness is that instantly we are able to be ourselves. No need for uneasiness, or putting on any masks. It’s easy to be with that one person who knew you at the beginning when life was both easy and complicated. It reminds me of the feeling of exhaling after holding your breath underwater and bursting to the surface. The hug of that one person who knows your history; has lived through your history with you, and because of that understands and accepts the why and how you navigate some of life’s events.
Even though we may have aged decades, when I look at her, I still see that same person sitting next to me that first day in school. The sparkle in her eyes, the silly smile, and laugh that comes easy and quick are still there; no change. She is still the same steady rock, who is that calm, let’s not worry about things we cant change person, to my let’s try to control everything.
We can still get in the car and cruise around and talk and talk and talk. We can take silly pictures, and laugh, feeling young, carefree, no worries in the world. We can also cry and feel the pain for what we’ve had to endure, and for the present trials in our own lives, our children lives, or our loved ones. We can go through all the emotions in a matter of an hour. It’s easy, it flows, it’s safe, it’s trusting.
After many decades, we have reunited, and the conversation picked up where it left off!
Standing on a precipice
Should I take a leap of faith?
Leave doubt and fear behind
Trust the unknown
Yearning growth and change
Am I ready for the next step?
The precipice is no place to balance
Trust myself
Grab the opportunity
Close the door on self-doubt
It’s happening!
Enjoy the process
Rise up and jump
Spread my wings, Fly
Leap, grow, change, trust!
Thank you for reading my latest book, If I Could Tell You How It Feels, available in both ebook and paperback from Amazon.
She connects with the world through her heart.
Tending to one flower, one smile, one child, at a time.
As she walks through the woods, the trees remind her to
find peace and trust the journey.
©Of Earth and Sky; Collaboration: Alexis Rose, photographer, Shelley Bauer
Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph
