I reached up to the top shelf, and suddenly shadows moved across my eyesight before I could catch my breath.

My heart rate spiked while my blood pressure plummeted, and I knew I was in danger.

Making my way to the front desk, I said,
“I need you to call 911.”

Over the last 46 years of my life, I have come to appreciate the many lives I have lived.

From poor and unkempt, abused and saved, freed and imprisoned, lost and purposeful- I have found something in every season, every circumstance, and most importantly, every job I have ever worked.

Working at a hospital for four years equipped me in ways I never expected. It taught me the questions I need to ask, the fears I need to calm, and the ways in which I need to advocate for myself.

Something has been wrong for the last week or so.

Well, to be fair, in my nervous system, something has been wrong for about a year.

I have known that I am truly suffering.

The immense hurt.
The deep grief.
The way my body freezes in fear.

Bessel van der Kolk named it best when he said, “The body keeps the score.”

I feared walking into work- lest he decide to assert his dominance.
I feared reading emails- lest I be accused of another grievance.
I feared seeing him- lest I would be met with more than I could bear.

For as much as I have been trying to emotionally and mentally let go of this traumatic experience, at the end of the day, my body was the one carrying it.

My body was the one suffering.

I am so grateful for technology. Two Christmases ago, my son bought me an Oura Ring. Most days it feels like Captain Obvious- telling me when I didn’t sleep well or when stress has me in its crosshairs- but on this particular day, it told me that my heart rate of 146 needed immediate care and attention.

As the EMTs loaded me in, the fire department thanked me for not getting behind the wheel and I knew this was going to be one of those moments- the kind where you find out whether what you are experiencing is a somatic response to the life you are currently trying to survive, essentially separating the physical from the mental, or whether it is something completely different.

A new challenge I have yet to encounter.

And honestly, I could not tell you which end of that spectrum I wanted to land on.

Did I want to admit that he had wounded me in ways I never imagined I could be wounded?

Fuck no.

he does not deserve that kind of power in my life.

But the idea of facing a completely different challenge- one unrelated, one new, one possibly bigger- felt overwhelming in its own way.

As I lay in the emergency department hallway, gurneys lined up wall to wall, all of us waiting for rooms, all of us hoping nothing too serious would happen while we waited, I found myself coming back to my parents.

Both my mother and father passed at such a young age, and I often wonder how close my own time might be.

The kids joke about it, but I want to annoy them with how long I live.

I want to dance at my children’s weddings.
I want to hold my grandchildren.
I want to pass on the gifts my parents gave me.

I cannot imagine a life where I do not get to be with my children.

And I never want them to have to imagine a life without me.

All of it- so many big thoughts, big dreams, and a life that still feels unfinished.

A life where I still have yet to find a love that fills my soul in ways I never imagined possible.

And I am just not ready to give that up yet.

Not even close.

I truly feel as though I am standing on a cusp- this beautiful ledge of wonder and joy and peace and love- and I cannot wait to see what is ahead of me.

I reached for something on the top shelf and nearly lost my footing-

but I am still here.

To a life that is not lived in fear!

With all my love,
xoxo, J