Let's Go Home: Finding There While Staying Here

THERE, HIM

Lying in the bed, thoughts tumbled through my mind. What was that? Who was that? Where was that? I tried desperately to silence them, to be in the moment, one more time. Seriously, what was that?

I wanted to feel it again. I looked at him lying next to me. I dared not touch him. Yet, every fibre of my being wanted to touch him and feel it all over again. I knew if I went there my need may never stop. Did he feel it too? Surely, he must have. How could he not? I was struggling in this extraordinary and bizarre situation. Seriously, what the fuck was that? I desperately rummaged for an answer.

It all started, the night before. Now, it felt like lifetimes ago. I snuggled into the comforting memory of what it felt like to be there again. That is all I wanted.

Yesterday morning, everything was different. Everything was normal, like a nothingness sort of normal. A normal I had grown accustomed to. A normal that everyone around me had accepted and embraced as enough. It was enough. Until now. When had I begun to accept my life, as enough? I felt an instant pain. When had I lost the feeling of knowing that there was more? That there is more than the emptiness all those around me seemingly slipped into.

Stop! Just stop it.

My life is fine just as it is. I’m fine. These are just untamable thoughts that were released in the ectasy of last night. And yet, I knew last night was real—surreal. Now, it both scared and excited me.

Yesterday evening, I had left the slopes after an extraordinary day skiing. I was alone. I had space to breathe and the freedom to fly down the slopes effortlessly. I was free to be whatever, wherever, whomever I chose to be. Nobody knew I was here. I had spontaneously jumped in the car and headed for the mountains. I needed space from my mum, my friends, from studying and life. My mum would presume that I was at a friend’s house and I wasn’t going to tell her any different. Some things can’t be explained and some things are worth it. I knew that getting away for a day, was a non-negotiable, something was about to explode if I didn’t find space. And so, I did. I felt exuberant and alive as I walked into the bar for a warm drink before I drove home. Alive. I felt alive again, for the first time in years.

And then our eyes met.

∞

She caught my eye as she walked into the bar, she exuded joy. She had an aliveness in her expression, a dancing spirit in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks. I could not stop staring, like a magnet, I was drawn to her. Never had I seen or felt what I felt in that moment. It was completely overwhelming and frightening in its intensity. Until, the moment our eyes connected and the overwhelm vanished. There was no fear. I knew she felt it too, as she gasped and paused before taking a step towards me.

As she moved closer, there was a familiarity to her that I could not quite place. As she approached me, in some way, I could hear her thoughts as clearly as if they were my own.

What am I doing, seriously what am I doing? Oh, Dear God, I can’t. I can’t go to him. What is happening? And then, she stood in front of me. Her hands shook. I took her hands and as she looked into my eyes, she knew. She knew, as I did, that it was okay. But that didn’t stop my head screaming. What the hell is going on? What are you doing? This must stop! This must not stop. My mind and soul battled for control. It was not the first time that I had experienced this inner conflict between what I should do and what my core being told me to do.

I looked deeply into her eyes—her soul—it was like a rod of lightning smashing through my body in the most incredible way. My head tried to make sense of what was going on, and my thoughts persisted, How was I here, doing this, in this moment, with this girl?

Three months ago, I came here to work on the ski slopes and get away from everything. To find and reclaim my space. To figure myself out. It’s not that I didn’t love Sam, my girlfriend. I did but I felt smothered and knew that something was not right. Out of my love for her, I gave myself and our relationship space, so that I could regroup, recalibrate and go home with clarity on what I really wanted. I wasn’t here to be doing this. Whatever this was. I wasn’t here to be with other women. I could have had many women over the last couple of months, but I wouldn’t go there—I knew it was not why I was here. And yet, from nowhere, here I was, holding this girl’s hands and staring deeply into her soul, knowing that I had found her, knowing that she felt the same—that she had found me.

I have no idea how long we stayed in that space, time stood still. Without a word being exchanged, I placed my hand on her cheek and she gently closed her eyes as a single tear fell. She placed her hand on mine and opened her eyes as she looked into my soul. Yes. Yes, for now. Yes, for then. Yes, for all the lost time. Sometimes words do not need to be spoken. I took her hand as we headed for my unit. I was never surer of anything in my life.

∞

Oh, My God, what are you doing? I fought desperately to hold reign over my thoughts. You don’t even know him. He’s way older than you. He’s probably married. You don’t even know his name. Stop. Stop and just go home. Stop! I took a deep breath to steady myself and my soul sang out in retaliation at the barrage of thoughts desperately trying to drag me from my truth.

‘No, you STOP! Shut the fuck up. I am sick of listening to you telling me what to do. Putting fear into me when this time I know. I know what I am doing. I know what I want. I know what is right for me. I just know. I have listened to you for too many years and that is why I’m here. That is why I’m running away from my life, so I can find just a little space and freedom from the constant barrage that you inflict on me. Can’t you see that? I’m going crazy constantly listening to you and everyone telling me what I should do and what I should be. I know me. I have always known me. You know what, I fucking miss me. Not the person you tell me I should be, the person I know that I really am. And, you know what, I am going to listen to HER, because I trust her.’

My mind screamed the fear card, Do you know what is going on here? Can you really trust him? Can you really trust yourself? He may have drugged you? But not this time! Fuck off fear, my soul disputed.

‘You pretend to be my best friend, pretend to keep me safe, pretend to care, but all you really do is hold me back. Hold me back from living my life. Hold me back from being free. Hold me back from being ME. You cannot scare me, because I know with every cell of my body that this is right. I know and I remember and I am listening, and if this is what acting on your knowing feels like, then this is what I want to feel.

This assuredness. This aliveness. This connectedness.

I know him in a way I have never known another. So, don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. Don’t you dare try to keep me small and weak and scared and separate from me.

I KNOW ME! In this moment, I have never been clearer knowing me.’

And I exhaled deeply, laughing and crying as I found my seat within my soul and she beamed as I finally spoke her truth.

∞

God, she is amazing!

Having somehow witnessed the internal battle she had just experienced, I could hardly walk because of the energy surging. She was extraordinary and I craved to feel that energy within me, again. I held her as my mouth found hers. I had never felt anything like that moment, nothing had ever even come close. The energy connecting us was inexplicable, insatiable. My soul had been starved of her for lifetimes. I had found her and I needed more. I had to have more. Nothing else mattered. Not even that I was seventeen years older, as I later discovered. Trust had brought me to this moment, for whatever reason, and trust would take me to the next moment and to the one after that, allowing what will be, to be.

∞

When the fall morning sunlight poked through the curtains of the little room, that she had found herself, she mulled the words, trust and truth. She had trusted herself and she knew that all that had happened was her truth. But there was a nagging curiosity of why. Why had their paths crossed now? Why had she experienced this now? Why now?

Her inner voice guided her. You do not need to know that answer, just continue to trust what you know and live what you know your truth to be, and all will be okay. All happens for a reason and for the good of all, when you listen and trust and have the courage to live truth.

She listened and acknowledged this, yet she longed to reach for him again, despite knowing it was not her truth. She ached to know that feeling again. It was not just the feel of a man. It was beyond that. Despite her youth she was not inexperienced in her sexuality. It was something she had embraced from a young age of fifteen with her first boyfriend. She had never shied away, even with others after she and her first boyfriend split. She had never disrespected it either. It was simply a part of who she was; an aspect of herself to be explored and experienced, that she had honoured.

This was different. It was beyond anything she had felt with others. An ecstasy beyond time. An elation of freedom like flying through the sky with nothing holding you back. Knowing you are as bright as the twinkle of a star, as pure as the Divine, and above and beyond everything, that you are without limit—you expand and flow forever. She stifled a giggle, recalling a childlike freedom that overtook her the night before, the freedom to be beyond everything that exists. That first time with him, was gentle and loving, a love so deep and so powerful that she sobbed. A love that cannot exist with a stranger. He was anything but a stranger—he felt like home and for the first time—he took her home.

And she turned, grasping at him, needing that again.

She touched his face pleading in desperation. She knew that this time was different. She knew this time not to go there. But this time she told herself otherwise.

When they reconnected, it was as though the picture was complete. Everything was at peace. Everything that was broken was fixed. Everything that was missing was found. Everything that was forgotten was remembered. Everything that was here was nothing and everything that was there was everything. And they wanted to be there. They wanted to stay, together, as one. His eyes told her, no, we shouldn’t.

His groin stirred. He wanted it again. He, too, knew that his whole self, changed when he connected with her—it was epic. He knew enough about energy, through his studies in yoga and meditation, to understand that something had transpired between their souls when their bodies found one another. What they had experienced when their souls reunited, was something that many seek through a lifetime of dedicated spiritual practice, and never find it. And, here they were, having seemingly stumbled across it—a feeling of euphoria, peace and expansion—he too, felt the desire for more. But something deep inside, told him that for them to go there again, would be dangerous.

The whisper within him was silenced when her hand begun trailing its way across his chest and to his lips and then down beneath the covers where she caressed him. As her lips found his, he entered her and they became one. In this space, again they returned home.

With that she soared to places she had never been. She became more than she believed she could. She felt herself expanding and she breathed with it allowing herself to become more. Each breath, she was more. More divine. More powerful. More magnificent. She never wanted it to end.

‘Stay with me,’ she begged after he released.

He tried to stay with her. But something fractured and he couldn’t hold her any longer. And without him, she couldn’t stay. She had to come back to the reality of here and she really didn’t want to be here. She wanted to stay there.

‘I am sorry.’

And while she felt the same deep limitless love for this stranger beside her that she felt the night before, she couldn’t help but, now, feel resentment. A resentment for making her come back.

HERE, ME

‘My name is Halia. My best friend is Snow. And, I want to go home.’

With that, I stuck the needle into my arm and closed my eyes knowing it would only take a moment. Hoping it would last forever, this time. I was not scared. I was not scared when I was a kid. I was free and did whatever I wanted. Nothing really held me back. My parents would laugh that I was like a jippery kitten from the time I woke to the time I slept. Always exploring, always curious and wanting to know more. Always asking adults questions. Which used to really annoy my mum when she was having conversations with her friends and I would interrupt, politely mostly, and ask all sorts of questions about where they were born; where they lived; who was in their family; what they did; if they liked it, or what they were having for dinner. Always curious to know people’s stories. And always with my arms out ready to hug people. My mum believed I sensed they needed a hug. I don’t recall sensing they needed a hug, I just liked giving big squeezy hugs.

I was pulled into this world, lodged so tight within my mother’s womb, by all accounts I was not going anywhere. I was twelve days overdue when my mother was induced and then after thirty-four hours of labour, I was delivered by C-Section. It’s not that I was in distress or anything, apparently, I just wasn’t going anywhere, so they called it and said it was time. I hate that they decided that for me.

My life was wonderful. I had a sister Rosie, two years younger than me. She never really got me. We were just different. I liked to be out running or riding and she preferred to be inside reading. She was born with some sort of heart condition and was often sick, so while she lay around being all sick and stuff and Mum fussed around her, I would just be doing my thing, in my own little world. It was my world. I was free to be me. I just went with it. I liked being by myself. I was never scared by myself. I was always outside. That was my place, outside. I guess I found my way, by taking myself into my own world, where I could just roam with no one else. No one telling me what I should do or say or feel.

I try and take myself there, you know. Back into my weird and wonderful world, and for a while it worked. I could go there and just hang out, feeling free, surrounded by others but all by myself, light and just there, at peace.

Then one day, I couldn’t get there anymore. I tried and tried but it was never enough. No matter how much I tried I couldn’t get there. That’s when I started to try other things to get me there. Firstly, I was mucking around with my friends and I would get such a hit, and it was fun and kept me going. Then I needed it in a way my friends didn’t. It wasn’t just fun anymore, I needed it. I always made it look like it was fun and just partying, but I knew, and I suppose others knew that it was different for me. It was the only thing that kept me going through the day, knowing that I could go there later. It was like a reward for sticking out another day here. I got to go there.

I needed it.

I desperately needed it.

In the same way as I desperately needed him.

Fuck him. Fuck him for starting this.

When I went to school, it got a little harder to hold on to me. I held on in my own way. Others may have thought I was weird. They called me shy. I wasn’t shy. Stupid fuckers. They had no idea who I was. I wasn’t shy. I just needed my space. It did get harder and harder to find that extraordinary space and soon I forgot about it. Well, I don’t know if I forgot or they just got in. I didn’t really have anyone to teach me how to hold onto it and hold onto me. My parents needed easy when my sister got sicker and sicker. Their focus had to be on her. Not that I minded. I don’t think I minded. Did I? I don’t know.

When I was nine, my sister died. I hated her for that because she got to go and I had to stay. I had to stay with Mum and Dad, who somewhere along the way had forgotten about each other, themselves and why they were together. Things were dark at that time. I moved in it and amongst it and maybe it got in, the darkness, maybe the dark got in. I don’t know what happened. But my light disappeared as I became ever more invisible in the world. Is that what went wrong with me? I tried hard to get my parents out of the dark. I worked so hard at school, I needed to be the best, so that they had some happiness and they had something good. I was their good and I did all I could to be their good. I became what they needed me to be. That’s how I tried to fix them. By being whatever they needed me to be. I was an A-grade student. And I ran. Oh my, could I run—not surprisingly, running worked for me—gave me that hit and made me feel like I could fly. I’d do it over and over and over. Dad really liked me to run, he would coach me. It made him happy. And I got to fly.

Then Dad left. When I was eleven years old he left and I didn’t know why. No one bothered telling me why. He just left. Obviously, my good was not enough. My good was not enough to fix him because he left. And when he left, Mum left too, even though she wasn’t there anyway. She might as well have gone because she remained so trapped in her own world of pain, struggle and misery that she couldn’t even get out of bed most days.

I didn’t want to be here, then, so I ran. I ran and ran and ran. The short distance sprinting was not enough after a while. So, I ran longer. The longer I ran the freer I felt. I could almost get myself there again, almost. And I was good at it.

The world started to notice me again. I was smart. I was fast and I was pretty. I was everything the world wanted me to be. I got noticed. In some fucked up way I felt that I was enough again. And yet, I knew that none of this was enough. I knew that none of this was me. I knew that none of this was real. The noise of the outside telling me, I was enough, silenced my inner voice, which told me I was enough already, exactly as I was. But then I couldn’t get to it anymore. I couldn’t get to that feeling of being enough within me anymore.

Can I leave you now and maybe I’ll come back to you one day? But now, it’s too hard. It’s just way too hard to be here unless I feel like I am enough in how they see me. So, if I’m going to stay here, then I have to be enough for them and that will be enough for me, right?

‘I get it,’ my inner voice gently acknowledged. ‘Know you can come back whenever you need. I am always here for you. The longer you leave it, the harder it becomes to find again, but never stop believing you can. Never forget who you really are, and know you are enough, always and you are loved, always.’

I was fifteen when I made that desperate pact with myself. I knew I was stepping away from me and who I really was. But no one could see me anyway. They could only see me as who they wanted me to