Perseverance

He opens his eyes in the half-light, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he spends his first few waking moments getting accustomed to the omnipresent adrenaline in his chest, the gulls outside cry their morning chorus like a lamentation. A cold breeze which belies the season siphons through the room, raising the hairs on his arms and heightening his senses..

In the occasional comfort of his head he believes he has things pretty much figured out - the traumas and failings of the past that have led him to this state of perpetual high anxiety, the tools and techniques and therapies that will be his deliverance from the weight of the pain that seeks to stop him from growing, the nature of the keys to the locks on his life. He is reaching for those keys, grasping desperately, yet still his flailing hands are met with cold walls of silence, as the waiting continues and the creeping intensity of his angst bubbles up from within.

The cold blue flames of his impotent rage at the injustice of it all feed back into his consciousness like a self-fulfilling prophecy. He shakes off the feelings of dread and fear that always accompany the start of a new day as best he can, quietly assessing his mood and summoning up all the reserves of willpower he can muster. He knows he must paint on his brave face, his warpaint, if he is to win the battle today. He hopes to find strength and some comfort in his resolve, but the batteries are low..

There's no time for self-pitying contemplation of the unfairness of the circumstances that led to his predicament. There's no space for the lost little boy who always buried his head in the sand, for that little boy drowned when the tide came in. Things change and the world moves on, and that is exactly what he knows he must do if he is to thrive. He's been just surviving all his life and reached the point where survival, in and of itself, is simply not enough to sustain him. He wants to thrive. He needs to thrive. And he certainly feels he has earned the right to thrive.

He is craving the next stage of his life, crying out for freedom from the spirit-crushing pain of bad memories and buried trauma. Every day the claws of self-doubt and guilt scratch at his soul like an insidious waking nightmare. He is tired of the monster, tired of having to deal with the fight, flight or freeze instinct that serves absolutely no purpose, tired of moments of anger that pass him by as if he were a bystander watching in slow-motion, tired of the self-doubt and recrimination complex. Most of all, he is just so tired of feeling completely emotionally exhausted.

In the early hours of each day he finds solace. There is peace and quiet, space to breathe. He grits his teeth, flexes his muscles and steals himself for another day. There will be good, wholesome, healthy, happy moments to come. He will find joy in simple things. He will share love and laughter with his nearest and dearest. Hopefully, these moments will outweigh the burden of his pain today. He will remind himself there is much suffering out there in the world, many who have far worse to deal with, and also that the promise of a life in which he can truly thrive is real and close.

After all, he didn't come this far and do all this work to give up now.

"Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of all obstacles, discouragements, and impossibilities: It is this, that in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak." - Thomas Carlyle



Copyright ©2018 Richard C. Greenlow. All rights reserved.