Saturday, December 27, 2008

Going Back To The Island

Well, it's two days past Christmas and the temperatures here in North Florida are in the seventies and Mr. Moon has decided to take some time off and so we're going to the island.

I haven't been there since August when I completely lost my mind, my sanity, my shit. Not a good time in my life. In fact, one of the most horrible. And I, not being a person who believes strongly in facing her fears, am having a bit of anxiety about going back.

How am I going to feel when I open that door to see the place where I walked the floors endlessly in panic? To see the way the light falls on the bed where I curled up into the tightest ball imaginable, trying desperately to make a smaller target for the demons who were torturing me? To walk along the bay and the Gulf where I walked so far and long everyday, trying to outwalk the panic, the demons, the fear and crazy?
Listen- Dog Island is not big enough for that particular exercise in futility.

I don't know.
I only know that here we are in Florida with this beautiful place to go on an island where pine trees offer homes to the osprey who wheel and soar across the sky above the bay and then dive down from incredible heights to snatch a fish with their talons and then rise again to fly to the nest, their prey alive and wide-eyed to find themselves flying through air, not water.

A place where there is nothing to do but read and write and play cards and walk and sit on the bay at sunset and watch the sky turn pink and orange and golden and purple. Where on quiet days you can hear the sound of the Gulf from across the island as it slaps itself against the sand, over and over and where the wind whistles through the dunes, the pine trees, the sea oats, the wild rosemary.

I want to go. I am afraid to go.

It will be different this time. I have medication, my man, and I am not swimming in that darkness alone. I am not swimming in that same darkness at all.

I have begun a new book (writing, not reading) and it's enchanting me and I feel like a woman who's just taken a pregnancy test and found it to be positive but who is yet afraid to trust the result. I can sit at old Captain Farnsworth's desk and write on it or on the back porch in a rocker, sitting on two pillows with another in my lap to hold my baby Mac on.

I can. I can. I can.

I can do this.

Even if I'm afraid, I can. A feeling is just a feeling. It can be replaced with a different feeling. Light can enter a pierced heart. Early morning light, soft and rosy, late evening light, powerful and golden.

I'll report in IF I can access via the dial-up, which is always a tricky and excruciatingly slow thing to do.

And I'll be back on Tuesday of next week because Big Lou and Maxine are coming to celebrate the New Years with us and Maxine wants us to dress up in velvet and lace and it's always, always a celebration with Big Lou and Maxine.

But right now I have to pack up the ice chest and decide which overalls to take and water the plants and oh, honey, don't forget the Lexapro and remember to grab your sunglasses.

It's time to go to the island. It's time to be happy there again.

God, I wish I had some sage.

11 comments:

  1. You're right though. You know now why you were so shaken last year. And you come back now to replace that vacuum that had you shook with the new life you have discovered. And you have your man to hold you and remind you the demons can't get you anymore. Just remember to be aware of yourself. When you start to slide into the old feelings, catch it early and shine the light on it to show you it is just old feelings, old fears, and nothing real!
    I hope you have a wonderful time!

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  2. You know what? Your writing is so inspiring. I was so afraid to go back "home" after my deep depression, but I was so glad I did it. It was hard, but I was also able to enjoy it, too, and the next time was much easier.

    Do me a favor, would you? Lie in the sand one afternoon and soak up the warm sun. Listen to the waves and the birds and just BE. Can you do that for me? I wish I could. I miss the ocean...and the sun.

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  3. Curl your toes in the sand for me, Ms. Moon! :)

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  4. Thank-you all. I will lie in the sand and be quiet and curl my toes. I will let the light shine on me in all ways.
    I will be doing it for all of us.

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  5. Oh how I miss the Dog House. I, too, have had some of my darkest moments there, but I've also had some of my best. Definitely try and enjoy this one for me. If not, I will come down on Monday and spend it with you!

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  6. I hope you are able to slay your demons this time around. The island might become your escape instead of a place to escape from.

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  7. If it's disquieting, won't Mr. Moon bring you home?

    I can face things that make me anxious much more easily when I have an escape route planned.

    Hope you have a good time.

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  8. I'm so glad I was not wrong and you guys are coming home tomorrow, not today. Because I totally didn't clean the house!

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  9. The title sounded like the television show LOST. Going back to the Island. Do you watch? I've never seen it, but I heard it's good. Gripping or something inspiring like that. I find your writings deeply inspiring, probably because they're just so real. I feel that a lot of people lack the ability to be real anymore in this world. They're afraid of what other people think, or how they'll come across that they hold back. Some of the most inspiring people in the world, the people I look up to the most, my heros, are the people who lived freely. The no regrets attitude. And while, I think we all have many regrets, or things we might do a little differently if given a "do-over," it would be good at the end of the day, to know that you did your best. The best you could with what you had, even if you only had a little. Some days I feel that all I have left in me is a very little something, but when I know I've done my best, it transforms my little into the world's big. There are a lot of us in the world, in existence, and when we all do a little, it adds up to a lot. Thank you for doing your part. For releasing yourself to be free, and to live. Your writings drip with inspiration that touches us all. Thanks Ms. Moon.

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  10. i used to have a place like that - to go and have nothing but nature and yourself to face. it was nice (but the hurricane flushed it away) and i miss it! it sure settled a lot of things... i hope you will too

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  11. AJ- I don't even know what to say to that. "Thank-you" is not enough.

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