Unburden in the Fog
I was tired of being reliant on Daniel, I had been reliant on him ever since I left home, three years ago at that point, we were living in Canada. I was financially supported by my father, completely paying for everything from the car I drove, to the university I attended and the credit card I maxed out in my Hypomanic states. I lived a life nursed like an invalid. Daniel picking up the house I couldn’t, preparing food and gently coaxing me to eat every single day so I could take my medication. What was I even doing here? I wanted to disappear for the burden was too heavy to bear. Everyone expects me to just turn around and be better, do better. To be well like how easy all these people are walking around like they’re living their life so perfectly.
I had a morning coffee at the Tim Horton’s before a class that I would never end up going to, as I watched all the other students go about with their friends, texts books in hand, backpacks in tow, all smiley and giggling at jokes that would never meet my loner ears. I saw the couple at the corner, deep in conversation in contemplation of the world. There was a group of them that sat there on their computers, each of them using the free wifi to complete what I assume were important assignments on their way to their success. Not me, here I sit with no direction, only reason I was here was that Daniel made me feel safe. Even that was diminishing with the days. I sit there that day and zoned into meditation. The smells of the bold coffee, bitter and rich, laced with the scents of sugar and strawberries from the donuts. My mind disappeared into a vast emptiness where my mind sat in a fog, it was cold and frigid, it was hot and scalding, it was quiet and it was screaming with death metal cries. Amidst all of that was me, pained and scalded skin hanging off my shoulders, frostbitten limbs lay on the icy ground. I was in pieces and I didn’t even care. All the expectations, the burdens, the guilt, the expectations, the pain, the shame and devastation all whirled around in a tornado around me. My head gently lay on the table. Another day I could not make it to class. Got back into my car and started on my hour drive home to Woodstock from my college in London. The pain and burden excruciating, tormentors to my existence.
As I drove home, my mind wandered through thoughts to keep me alive, to not to try again to bring an end to this pain I couldn’t shake. I begged for salvation, Why was I still here??? Why didn’t I die when I tried the last three times? Am I that stupid and incompetent??
A soft embrace came over me, as if someone gently stroked my face and my hair. There was a peaceful calm as I saw the white snow over the meadows and farms, a beautiful glistening of the sun on the snow. I wanted answers, I believed in divine forces that keep us on our path. As I drove home that afternoon, I found myself getting lost into this parking lot of a religious body. I decided, what the fuck, maybe there will be an answer calling for me there.
I met with the religious leader and we talked a long while about his religious beliefs and he was never defensive nor offended even when I called somethings out as bullshit in my ignorance. He smiled and answered every one of the questions so calmly, so steady I was satisfied with why he believed what he believed. He had given the most loving, compassionate , empathetic answers I had ever heard. He invited me and Daniel to attend the religious gathering they were having the next day and I agreed I’d check it out.
He asked if he could pray for me and closed his eyes sitting next to me, palms up. I put my hands in his and squeezed tightly as I’d seen them do on TV all these years. His prayers stopped as he opened his eyes looking at my hands in his and an awkward smile came over his face, I kept my eyes closed tight in that embarrassment WTF Hahahahahhahahahahhaha.
We never spoke of the faux pas.
As awkward as that hand in hand moment was, the next day we would attend the gathering where he lead the talk about leaving your pain at God’s feet. The idea that we weren’t meant to carry burdens and pains no matter what they are on our own. We need only to leave it with God. A large energy came over me in that sermon, a large realization that my pain was too heavy to bear on my petite person, but I didn’t have to take them on my self. A huge weight fell off my being and melted into the floor right then. That night I slept the most peaceful sleep I had ever had in months.
He would invite us to a lunch the next day, where we would meet his beautiful wife and children and I would have a glimpse into a life that was rife with kindness and compassion that just filled the room. Over the years of befriending them, they taught me to open up and be ready for friendships we didn’t think were what we expected. The friendships we gained from his family and others coming from those introductions became my survival kit while we lived in Canada. Lessons I carry to this day. Kindness came with vigor and insistence that fought my disbelief in true genuine altruistic friendships.
We remained friends and received counsel on my grief, my trauma and pain and coping with everyday life with this trauma. He offered counsel in compassion and wisdom I heed to this day. Daniel and I hold utmost respect for his way of life, his virtues and his empathy and ability to reach out and help others in genuine care and authenticity. This, kept me alive those days. Many days his words still keep me alive. His views on a life worth living for our purpose is yet known to us, his reminders to me kept me living. we wanted for his wisdom and genuine love that him and his wife shared with us to bless our marriage, he would travel to America to marry us. His voice rings in my head sometime when my grief remembers to reminds me.
It wasn’t as easy to keep moving with a simple chanced encounter, as I did in that instance. But I learned about finding those little moments every time I was lost and an end was in sight, I faintly remind myself of my encounter with this pastor and his message. I didn’t need to carry any of my burdens alone. Whether it was to God, or to my Daniel, my daddy, or in all the simple kindnesses I would find from strangers along the way. Compassion and empathy or blind kindness would meet me over the years overcoming my set views of love and aid I needed to survive. I would lay the burden down and even for a moment seek solace in the ability to live another day with true existential significance within reach. In the flight of my soul, of the burdens, sights were bright, still clouded but lighter with hope within the fog. I would carry on. I would live.