The Journey

When I was in college, a popular CW show at the time, Dawson’s Creek, came to film on our campus since one of their main characters had gone off to college in the world of the show. While it posed somewhat of an inconvenience by closing off a whole quad, it also brought some money making opportunities. I managed to get hired on a couple of occasions to do some background work on the show which required nothing more than standing around for hours at a time waiting for them to call “Rolling” and then “Action,” at which point the background extras would complete the most basic choreography of walking along a preassigned path while the actors performed their scene.

Sometimes, the director would call “Cut!” after I’d only taken a couple of steps and other times they would complete the whole scene, long after I’d traversed my full path. In either event, after a short discussion, someone would usually call out “back to one!” which I learned meant that we were to go back to our starting positions for the top of the scene. The whole outfit would reset and we would do it all over again.

I think life is like this. We try and we try and we do our best, hopefully. We gain some ground here and there, but each time we fall down, we have to reset. Not only pull ourselves up, but put all the pieces back into place and try, try again.

The past two years since #igotout have been a steady roller coaster. And yes, I mean that with every ounce of contradiction and irony. I have traveled so far in such a short period of time. And yet, sometimes, it seems that I am back at the beginning.

I have experienced wonderful things I never thought I would encounter again, at least not for many years to come. I have discovered aspects of myself that have changed for the better and aspects that have changed for the worse. I’ve learned a lot about my own limitations and my lack thereof. At the age of 43, my future has more possibility and more potential now than it ever has before.

That is the reality on a grand scale.

I live, however, in the reality of my day to day. That reality is full of little setbacks and big challenges. That reality is fraught with the perpetual navigation of life with the added fun and spice of Complex PTSD sprinkled in. That life is bombarded by trauma-triggers, sudden upheavals, energy vampires and blindsides. For awhile now, I’ve felt like every new day brings some new, unexpected personal challenge. It’s a real world obstacle course, but unlike the slime-filled Nickelodeon version, what is at stake here is life itself.

I’ve come so far since June of 2022. And yet…I find myself back at January of 2023:
I’m back at the early days of recovery, struggling to make it through a work day with the basic energy required to function like a “normal” human.
I’m back at acting my way through each moment while I navigate a new internal landscape that is too fresh and raw and tumultuous to show or share.
I’m back at quietness and solitude because it is what I require to recover from routine activities and daily social interactions.
I’m back at gratitude for the simplest of treasures and grandest of luxuries: personal freedom, autonomy and sovereignty.

Here I was, thinking we were just about to move on to the next scene, and then, July hit.
Someone shouted, “Back to one!”