What It Is Wednesday: No Light at the End of the Tunnel
We like to assure the downtrodden, the sick, and the grieving that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But wait…are we so sure?
I’ve known (and have written about) the long, dark tunnel I’ve been going through for almost a year and a half now. It’s related to overcoming some particular childhood traumas that have had ill effects on my childhood, my love life, and pretty much the way I see the world. It’s related to much of that trauma being reflected in a work situation as well as in a home repair situation. It’s related to deciphering what went wrong in a couple of relationships and how to allow myself to fall in love with much higher quality men and not to settle, even if it means I remain celibate for the rest of my life.
This tunnel is not a bad thing, though it’s certainly been difficult. All these situations and dramas and traumas are tied together, all the way back to early childhood. I know many people forget things from their childhood or remember almost nothing of it. I’m wired differently, and I remember almost all of it, and I’ve been damned to repeat it because I couldn’t see that pattern, acknowledge it, change it to something better. I’m not completely through the tunnel yet, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Not literally on the earthly plane, no more than I see a physical tunnel on the earthly plane, but in meditation, yes, there’s a tunnel, and there’s now a light. I’m closer to coming out of the tunnel than going into it, and that’s a good thing.
It’s the thing we tell others in loving platitudes. We try to encourage people who are ill or people who are dealing with divorce or people who can’t get beyond the targeted prejudicial actions of a boss or two.
Because of my “tunnel” and one particularly facet of it, I’ve not had a gathering in my home in seven months until a few nights ago. I just couldn’t have people over with water running down my living room wall while I fought with a major home services company’s roofing division–an extremely painful ordeal that involved ten months of inside water damage that has yet to be repaired. I’ve had an open ceiling for six months and a new roof for only two months, but still so much to be done and so much stress from that alone. I couldn’t see having a peaceful group meeting under an open ceiling or having anyone in my home during this time, so I stopped having anyone in my home–guests, friends, colleagues, dates, my spiritual circle. That’s not been good for me but I didn’t realize it until an old friend came into town and we did it anyway, with cardboard taped to the ceiling to keep the room cool enough for eight people to sit and laugh together and bare our souls to one another.
It struck me as interesting, painful, and full of gratitude as I listened to my friends talk about ordeals they’re struggling with. These weren’t matters of how to redecorate the bathroom or where to vacation. These were hard, hard problems–medical, financial, marital, abuse, jobs. My own problems of the last year, while intensely stressful, seemed so much less dire by comparison. At some point, someone said something to someone else about a light at the end of the tunnel, to which the other responded that she’d been hearing that for a long time.
Some tunnels are long indeed.
Later, after the gathering, I was talking to another friend about tunnels and lights and the old joke that the light at the end of the tunnel is a train. We paused for a moment, wondering, what if there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for some people. What if they never find their way out?
It’s possible. We don’t like to talk about it because it’s depressing, but not everyone sees the light or even if they do, not everyone makes it out of the tunnel.
Some people have been hurt so badly, messed up so badly health-wise and psychologically, that there’s no going back and nothing ahead but more darkness, more tunnel, and no amount of prayer or love or money will ever get them through the tunnel. It’s not an optimistic view on life or on the human race, and I don’t like to think that way, but maybe we should pause for a moment to understand that some people won’t make it out of the tunnel, no matter how optimistic we are or they are, and that it’s for those people we need to ensure we extend our compassion.
Back in January 2005, I started blogging regularly at a LiveJournal site called SuperGirl@40 as part of my personal therapy to work through healing from a failed marriage…and then suddenly working through all the other crap in my life from childhood. It was a significant part of my healing journey and I shared raw emotions and “dauntless reality” with others in a small circle of new friends who were also dealing with healing from long ago and recent traumas. It was a fairly private blog–well, that privacy lasted until one of my kids mentioned it to an ex-inlaw and then I took a deep breath and watched it go public very quickly. I still write in that raw and profound way I’m known for but having healed so many of my early and frequent wounds, I don’t really write the heavy, raw, vulnerabilities like I used to. I’m committing here to bringing that back, in case you wonder if it ever really left. That means committing to putting the big, scary stuff out there.
The above post is my contribution to this week’s edition of a blog hop started by Kelley Harrell of Soul Intent Arts called “What It Is Wednesday,” which gives bloggers a chance to dauntlessly tell it like it is. You can view the inaugural post to learn more about joining in or just to read other blogs in the hop.