I’ve been having some lessons in trust. I didn’t sign up for them, but I asked the universe, god, and/or angels for help, and the result was chaos. Through it all I’ve despaired, raged, resented, trying all the while not to slip over the edge into depression. I was right at the edge looking into the depths a couple of times, but I didn’t fall in, and for that I’m deeply grateful. I kept asking for help, and things just seemed to get worse and worse. There was enough that went right, however, that I kept trying to trust that the craziness was the help I had asked for and that everything would turn out alright and that things would be better if I could just get there.

I’m not sure I’m there yet, but I’m hopeful, and trusting that I’ve been led to the path I’m on now, which, if all goes according to plan, seems like it will be the right thing, and better than where I was before. I hate to do that, because historically, when I start using words like hope and trust and I feel optimistic I am kicked squarely in the teeth. I just hate that! So let’s say I am trusting that I’m heading in the right direction, and that I’m cautiously optimistic about the journey.

When life has dealt hard blows – and it does to absolutely everyone – at a certain age, after bearing so many bruises, it’s hard to trust anything or anyone. I think I’ve gotten better about trusting myself, and I have an inkling that the “universe” or “spirit” I make my pleas to is within, but I’m not sure. The consensus is not in on that yet, right? So many religions and beliefs and they all have credence. Hard to know who’s correct, and who’s just making it up as they go along. Probably a combination of all, like the elephant in a dark room; everyone has a hold of a piece, but no one is able to see the whole or how they all fit together.

So I’m comfortable with not knowing or naming what “that” energy is. What really matters is learning to trust it. That’s been my stumbling block all my life, and it’s not any easier now, I’m sorry to say, especially when things fall apart all at once and my carefully constructed life becomes a pile of rubble at my feet. I think probably I’m just along for the ride this time – on hand for the journey because I need to get to the same place, but not in the driver’s seat nor the main objective on this trip. That’s okay, though, because I think it’ll be worth it, even though it’s been a bumpy ride so far. I have a lot to gain and not much to lose, unless I fall apart, stay in the bathroom too long at the rest stop and get left behind.  (How’s THAT for a metaphor?)

So the only way to lose on this trip is not to take it. That makes sense to me. Stay in your seat, fasten your belt, and hang on. Take it one day at a time. Take snacks and frequent breaks and it’ll be okay. Most of all…trust. It may prove to be a detour and not the right thing again, but at this point I can’t tell. So I have to trust that someone or something knows where we’re going and that we’re going to be okay when we finally get there.

It’s so hard, and the anxiety is rough, but I’m getting through each day and not looking much beyond that. The lesson continues and I’m trying really hard to learn.