Old friends fear and I, but the cage door is open...

For a long, long time I struggled profoundly with anxiety and ptsd and slowly and not in a straight line, I improved. Thank God. And one day I called my son, who is now an adult and quite wise and funny, and confided in him, “I’m doing so much better.”

“That’s great, Mom.” He said earnestly.

“I’ve figured a few things out… I’m not crazy,” I said relieved, “The world is.”

Without missing a beat, my son said, “Mom, that’s what all crazy people say.”

I laughed and he laughed.

Laughter is rain. It washes away seriousness and invites a smile, a breath, humility.

I can over-identify with awful things that happened. This is how I construct my own cage. I am a far-better jailer for myself than any other human I’ve met. 

And like all jailers… I have the keys. 

How many belly flops, diggers, yard sales, bottom outs did I do? Way more than I can count. And here I am. Typing. Listening to rain. Laughing. Thankful to be writing you. Thankful you’re still reading… sharing your life force with me as I share a bit of my journey with you. 

The key is to ask myself how did I grow? What did I learn? How did I return to love? How was I resilient? How did my faith grow? Who am I becoming?

That’s what this is about… isn’t it? Wiped out. Got a hand hold. Was helped up. Still alive. Sharing light again. Thank God! 

It could fit on a post card. Certainly one I’d like to write and one I’d like to receive. 

The more challenging question is ~ can I break the habit of being afraid, of being cautious? Can I let laughter, light, happiness be part of my day? Can I relax into a place of peace and thankfulness? 

A few days ago, I was talking with my other son. 

“I still slip sometimes. Still have some tough dig outs in the morning” I shared.

“Welcome to being human,” he said. 

And we both smiled.

The cage door is open, inside whispers, “Fly!”

Peace be with you!

~Kat