"Extreme Devastation"

Four years ago, I was meditating at the bottom of Mount Sequoyah before going into work. Four years ago, I heard a voice that told me that I was going to experience “extreme devastation”.

It’s wild.

I know.

Uncomfortably wild.

But the voice was so clear that it jolted my eyes open. It made me look around to see where it came from. I have not a clue if it was the voice of God, compacted trauma, my brain telling me that I was in a dangerous relationship, or a mixture of it all. For the longest time, I tried to understand why I heard those specific words so clearly.

I mean, wouldn’t you?

I don’t believe I am meant to know. What’s more important is that I know what I heard. I know what I felt that day.

I know how the last four years have played out.

A few months after I heard those words at the base of Mount Sequoyah, I had a dear friend that was brave and intuitive enough to ask me a very crucial question. This question forced me into therapists’ offices – quite literally kicking and screaming. In their offices, I was given new words to name things that had and were happening. I was given resources, a shit ton of resources, to help me cope. I learned how to cry, really cry, and share my story, without judgement. In their offices, I began to see differently. In their offices, I was able to be seen. (Big picture takeaway - Being seen and heard on truth has profound impacts on someone’s soul.)

Thursday evening, I went back to the spot where I heard those words.

Holy shit. I have changed so much and so much has happened over the last four years.

As I sat under the pavilion, my skin cool as it reacted to being back in that spot. I imagined looking at that woman from four years ago when she heard those words. I imagined gently placing my index finger, middle finger, and thumb on her chin to lift it up so that our eyes could connect. I imagined looking into her lifeless and sunken in eyes. I imagined telling her, “Let’s get you out of hell.” I imagined telling her, “It’s not going to be easy.” I imagined telling her, “You’re going to experience the deepest and darkest pits of hell. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one. You’re going to be ok.”

How do you cope when you experience “extreme devastation”? What do you do when the very foundation that you tried to build a life upon is erupted?

For me, I found the smallest seeds in the rubble that I wanted to salvage. I diligently and delicately brought them out of the destruction. I protected those few seeds because my life and my kids’ lives depended on it.

With the tiny seeds in my grasp, I am learning how to take care of them. I have leaned on my inner circle of trusted relationships to help me. I have found soil. Tilled the soil. Watered the soil. Placed nutrients in the soil. And gently have laid the seeds down in the soil.

Admittedly there are times that I revert to old patterns and forget how to take care of the soil.

But I am relentless.

And I Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

And I wait in anticipation to see what grows.

I wait in hopeful expectation that the roots are penetrating, expanding, and grounding deep in the soil.

I wait in peace.

I wait in hope.

I wait in trust.