Nox Amicus

It’s 4:05pm and the moon is new.

For the past month I’ve tried to be mindful of self-discipline – this has taken the shape of picking my battles, not getting drawn into pointless conflict or controversy, and knowing when to be still. It’s also brought an added focus and determination – a pushing through even when the urge to stop was great. More than that though, the real benefit has been a heightened state of awareness.

This awareness unexpectedly shone its light on concepts of trust recently – so that’s apparently what I’m called to look at for this cycle. I’d said in an earlier post that I used to treat trust as a commodity – if I profess or demonstrate my trust in [x], then they will [y]. That’s not how it works – and tomorrow is an anniversary which reminds me of that lesson.

Five years ago my trust was shattered through months of what can best be described as psychological abuse and gaslighting – brought about by blind trust and my fervent belief that all I had to do is trust more and it would all be okay. But when that fabricated reality was finally taken away, there was nothing of “my” life left to go back to. There was no “me” left. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the decision to live and the start of my path back – and it began with cautiously trusting a beautiful friend who simply asked me to go to a movie.

Through that dark time of my soul I had shut myself off from music. I couldn’t listen to anything. But on my way to go out that night, I knew the gravity of the moment and listened to Elton John’s “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”. It sounds like hyperbole – but it’s literal and accurate. We had a lovely evening of friendship and holding space for one another, and on the way home I realized that there was still something of me that could be valued. I had something to build on. Music came back too… and the song driving home that night was fittingly Fleetwood Mac’s “Gold Dust Woman”. The chorus captured where I had been… and showed me what my next step had to be:

Did she make you cry,
make you break down,
shatter your illusions of love?
And is it over now,
do you know how –
to pick up the pieces and go home?

Fleetwood Mac. Rumours. Warner Bros. Records. 1977. CD.

The darkness began to lift. That beautiful friend pointed me toward picking up the pieces…and I was finally free to start to find my way home. It was a long, long road – but now, five years later my life is bright and abundant.

I picked up the pieces, and found my way home.