Hello all, this was written in 70 something degree weather (last week) outside cafe bar from a pregnant nurse with a dog and cobb salad. she was a stranger but we shared a table. enjoy and all my thanks always!
Life or death. It wasn't life or death. I would tell myself. Out loud. Written down on reminders. Post its. Stuck. To myself. To to others. In the writing-in the pen-lines in the sand of the book of pages. In words formed in squiggles and straights and the cloud of my personal audio narrative hitting the airwaves of the soundtrack of this life/ our lives. I said it. But I didn't mean it. I said it to believe. Believe it was true. That I wouldn't die in this bar in running into someone who I was just decided to stop seeing, again. That I wouldn't die in this interview. Or in the pounding muscle of my heart in the first date. Or in this car. When I am not driving. I can see the snap of the fingers into the loss of control. Or in the confines of this plane. Across this bridge- the long ones and even the short ones. The height and distance of no return made me feel like I would die. But it wasn't life or death.
When the words- and the yoga- and the acupuncture- and the herbal remedies and the therapy and all the other coping mechanisms of anxiety failed. Anxiety predetermined in genetics and reenforced in environment. When these true and tried ways failed-I would resort to my xanax. Xanax prescribed for the confinement of planes crossed of over to first dates- just a quarter- to breakups- probably half- to first interviews- a quarter or a half to be sure. It wasn't life or death and I could believe it if I kept the safety of my flotation device in the small zipper in my red vintage purse with a bow. Just in case. Open upon emergency. Break the glass. Break into a piece. Swallow without anyone seeing. Hidden from everyone me. It wasn't life or death.
Until one day it was. It was life or death. And I stand in the water in a swimsuit no emergency prescription freedom to make it less so. Just me in a swim suit surrounded in melted snow of a lake. And it was life or death. And I was calm. No pace of my heart- uncomfortable in and out of this body. No wanting to run away. Just seeing and doing of the slowness of a firefighter upon arrival. As I looked out beyond, I knew they were in trouble. I yelled for help. And the swimming. First my brother. I knew right away. She needed help. I am not frozen in fear but I am unsure to follow or stay. Help I say and another one is moving. He moves through the water a brisk slow no splashing stroke. Gliding. I just follow. Talking calmly. Letting her know we are coming. We are coming. You are going to be okay.
The calm movement of their pace- the sail boat of them arrive to her. Turned over and floating. And all three moving to shore as one. She sits in the beginning part of the lake cradled by the bottom her toes could not find. The water visiting her. And then leaving again. It mimics her breathing. My body caresses the sand, the bottom of this lake, next to her. We embrace and you are okay and you did a great job are the only words that can be produced from this mouth. We walk slowly on the sand. Footprints in and out. Proof we are there. Were there. I need milks-she breaths.
It was life or death and finally I wasn't scared. And somehow the life of the death of it all happening really happening made all the worry and worry and work and escape and working on not being scared toss away and gave birth finally to faith. Faith in myself. Finally it had been life or death and I wasn't scared.
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