The Silent Observer

A *thing* happened to me recently.
A big thing.
By our culture's social standards it is a traumatic, life-altering event.
As I noticed the event moving closer to me, I stepped back and started to do something that I've never done before.

I watched.

I didn't try to control what was coming.
I didn't try to manipulate the truth in order to keep my life where it is.
I didn't talk-talk-talk in an attempt to keep everything "steady".

I watched.

As if standing belly-deep in the ocean, I noticed a rising swell on the horizon.
Instead of panicking and running out of the water to find a dry place to anchor; I allowed the swell to drift toward me.
I put myself in a place of safety - swimming toward the swell, past the breakers.
I ensured I was taking care of myself - noticing that is my only responsibility - Self-care in every moment.
I laid on my back floating in the middle of that great ocean of life and I surrendered.

I watched.

This is not mock surrender.
It is true surrender.
Possibly the first time I have ever surrendered.

Life happens.
I am not in control here.
Life is going to happen to me whether I pretend to have control over it or not.
It's so much more peaceful when I realize that I don't have a say in how life will unfold for me.
When we pretend to have control over the flow of our life, that's when the struggle and the suffering occurs.

I watched.

As if seeing a movie:
     "What's going to happen next?
     Oh, well, that's certainly interesting.
     What now?"

I learned to sit back and observe.
As I did, I felt peaceful.
I ensured that with every action I was coming from a place deep within my heart.
I paid attention.
With all my heart, I simply "DoThe Next Right Thing."
I take the next *right* action that is directly in front of me, focusing only on that thing in front of me.
That's as far ahead as I allow myself to look.
Not into the future, because I really can't say what the future holds for me.
(I can attempt to predict my future and suffering greets me every-single-damn-time.)
So I stop doing that.
I focused on:
Right here.
Right now.
Do that and do it with every ounce of my heart.

And that swell came.
As I felt it lift my floating body higher and higher, dropping me on the other side of that wave, my peace remained.

I continue to watch.

The strangest part about the process is the peace I feel through the "trauma".
The hardest part about the process is trying to explain to others where I sit in this place of "tragedy".
The largest awareness is the realization that I don't actually need to explain it to anyone.

My hearty choice is to sit back.
Silently observe.
Remove all labels saying that this is a "bad thing" happening to me.
How could I know what label to attach to this event? I'm not even in control!
Life has its wings spread and wrapped around my entire body.
Holding me.
Loving me.
Filling me with everything I will ever need.

Have I ever been "not okay"? Truly not okay? 
NO. I have always been alright.
I have always been taken care of.
Everything is always okay.

Even during those "bathroom floor" moments when I find myself even outside of suicide. I didn't even want to do that! I simply didn't want to be here anymore.
And I was still alright.
I was still taken care of.

This is sorta just how the ocean flows.

When I learned to release control and observe, I found my peace.
And I'm able to offer that same peace to those around me.

It's like magic.

(Please don't misinterpret. 
There's a load of pain that came along with that ocean swell. 
Even in the pain, I find peace. 
I do everything I can to breathe the pain in deeply. 
I feel every ounce of it. 
Sometimes I flounder and splash as I try to stay afloat, and then I notice - I am still floating! 
I'm alright in this moment. 
And again in this moment. 
And this one too. 
And suddenly, all the moments have melded together, and the next thing I know, that pain-ridden swell has passed under me, and I begin to feel the next feeling. 
Sometimes it's joy or excitement or wonder. 
And sometimes anger, confusion, or bitterness.
But with every moment, I know I am being taken care of. 
I am alright right now.)