Two years ago, when I had my first episode of psychosis, a mental state I wish upon no one at all, my doctor told me that I needed to take things slowly and not rush the healing process. My mind, after all, had a heart attack. Heart attack victims can’t just get up and go after their heart attack. The same can be said for a “head attack”.
This past summer I had a heart attack of a different matter. I let go of a person I love because our paths are going in different directions. This is not my first time at this particular rodeo, but this may be the hardest I have to live through. But, as my aunt says, somehow we must live through it anyway.
Some days are harder than others. Facebook is a particular minefield that I tread along carefully, but, of course, despite my knowing better that, as Gloria Steinem once said, “There is no there, there,” I still take a look and feel that ache that although is beginning to heal slowly, is still there. Maybe not as acute as it once was, but still definitely there.
About a month ago I hurt my thumb climbing an old foundation in Lublin to take a photo of a castle. As I hopped down, I heard something go in my thumb and for a frightful few hours worried that I had broken it. Turned out to be nothing more than a sprain, but that pain lingered, much like this heart pain lingers. And although I know time will heal this wound as much as it did my psychosis or my thumb sprain, because this particular pain I feel in my heart, my mind, my lips, my eyes, my stomach, my fingertips, it’s much harder to let it go.
It takes time. Time and patience.