The other day I watched Blackfish. It was a documentary on CNN about Killer Whales procured by Sea World, and the subsequent tales of sad living conditions and danger to all involved, whale and trainer.
I shivered through the entire show. That kind of terrified electricity that runs up your spine when you see something haunting? I felt that to the nth degree. I cuddled up closer and closer to the corner of the couch until I was a ball. My 15 year old walked in and said, “What’s wrong, Mom?”
I pointed to the TV.
He finished watching with me, and left. I knew that it affected me more than it affected him, which surprised me. I’m a pretty level person. I look at everything on TV with an understanding that what I’m watching is biased. No matter sitcom or World Report, I always know that there are two sides to a story and someone behind the scenes with some kind of agenda.
But this feeling I had while watching this documentary was pronounced. Sure it may have something to do with my lifelong terror of the deep deep ocean, but it was something more. I spent a couple days pondering it all. Why did those whales haunt me so?
And finally it clicked.
I completely relate to those whales’ plight. In fact, I feel like those whales.
I’m at a place where I feel like I’ve been plucked from my home. The only home and family I ever knew, and have been thrown into a small tank just big enough for me to swim for the soul purpose of surviving.
Breathing. It feels like all my energy these days is put into just breathing.
I feel like I’m not where I belong. I feel like there is an expansive universe out there that I’m missing out on, something bigger meant to be. I seem to be living my life only to perform for others. I know what is expected of me, and I’m doing it. And when I see my boys smile, for a moment I forget my bowl, and I fly into the air.
But at the end of the day…I’m back in the bowl.
Going through the motions is the crux of my existence.
But as I pondered this more, I realized there is one distinct difference between the whales and me…
This bowl I’m in? I’m keeping myself here. I can jump out anytime.
I can change my life at anytime.
The only thing I’m a prisoner of is grief. The sadness and hopelessness of my future is all on me. I have the power to jump out of this rut.
And I know I will. It’s just that…now isn’t the time yet.
I must keep my world small to continue the healing process. As much as I want to rush into new worlds and new experiences, I know that right now I’m exactly where I need to be.
Sometimes it’s necessary to go through life on autopilot so that our delicate ecosystems can rest, and heal from the tolls of heartache. My life was kidnapped from me. It’s only natural that my body needs to recover from the violent ripping apart of my future.
This little happiness coma is allowing much needed restoration to occur.
I’m going to back float it out until one day I’m strong enough to jump out of the pool.
When I do?