It was before the storm began.
I was running on Main Street as she passed by. We almost bumped into each other.
“I am sorry,” she said and kept walking.
Don’t say sorry. I know you.
Her rapid steps as she was flying through the streets. Only bones and skin. And wrinkles. Her air-thin skin was nearly black from fake tanning and her mascara was running down on her sunken cheeks. Pointy shoulders and, oh, those fragile arms of nothing more than a few bones.
Perhaps she just wanted to be thin. Or thinner. Beautiful. Or rather the most beautiful. Perhaps she was ill. Very. Dying even. Inside for sure.
As disease was eating away her body there was nothing much left to see. Perhaps both. She was starving away by pain and her pain was starving her away.
She was frazzled. She looked bewildered. The eyes were darting around like a scared little animal. Checking if anyone was watching her, catching onto her unusual behavior and thoughts, or judging her looks. Hoping that nobody would notice her, at the same time desperately wanting to be noticed. She wanted to be looked at, understood, and wanted. While she was (literally) sticking out from the crowd, she was also disappearing at the same time.
“Help me. But leave me alone. You can’t help. You don’t understand.”
Don’t worry, I understand you. I know you.
In reality, of course, I didn’t know this woman. I have never seen her in my life. She may not be even from this town. I will likely never see her again.
But I know her, because I used to be her. Sometimes I am still her.
It is not just projection of my feelings into someone life. At times the energy comes through and it is obvious that you just understand someone’s story. You feel it without knowing.
Shy and misunderstood in elementary and high school. Behind the scenes abused and neglected at home. Scared of her own shadow. Anorexic in college. Then a binge eater. Out of control. A good runner but holding herself back. Always. Suffering from the lack of confidence. Anger problems. An abusive relationship. Years of hip pains. Could barely walk. Even longer years of headaches, constant throbbing, explosion, shooting and more.
Can’t take it anymore. Desperate to heal.
Big dreams. Beauty in life. Yet, full of physical and emotional pain.
No one cared.
I wasn’t just weird, uninterested, hating and bored. I was in physical pain. I didn’t try diets and lose weight as result for fun or for the want to be thin. I wanted to heal. I didn’t get into self-development and spirituality to be a cool hippie. I wanted to heal. I wanted the physical pain to end.
But that was just one thing.
The most recent.
My whole life was just like that.
You don’t understand me. I wanted to scream.
I wanted to be understood. Cared for. Loved.
I missed the point: I didn’t care for myself enough. I thought I did, but I didn’t.
Hear me out. Fine, close your ears. Understand me. You won’t understand anyways. Look, notice how sick I am. Don’t look at me, I am ashamed. See my tears. Fine, call me a whiny baby. Look beyond the surface. Please. See how my heart aches. Feel how my body hurts. Just feel it, feel how terrible to live this way.
Once you feel it, you will understand it. You will love me and you will help.
No one cares. No one helps. No one wants to help me…
Feeling lonely. Desperate. Scared. Misunderstood. Not understood. Hopeless. Alone. In pain. Physically. Emotionally. Wanting to scream. I am so done.
Then there was an explosion. Like a tornado. There was a tornado and a hurricane at the same time.
All the pieces were on the surface. I had to look at them as they are. I had to start putting the puzzle together. Alone. But empowered. Supported by the loving universe. Ready.
That’s when healing began…
There was no way back. Healing was the only choice. The only way.
That’s when happiness, health and freedom became reality.
Just like that.