Fighting The Undertow

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I must apologize for the sudden radio silence, a lot has happened over the past 2 months and it all kinda overlapped into a spectacular clusterfuck of emotion.

The world seems to be growing crazier and scarier by the minute.  Horrible people [or more kindly, people with horrible beliefs and ideologies] suddenly see their way of thinking validated due to recent events [the messed up thing is that I can be as vague as I want about 'recent events' and still be correct no matter which 'event' you chose to fill the gap there] and are now more emboldened to 'express' their views [and terrorize minorities because they 'won']...

Overall 2016 has proven to be a bad year for those whose names have become legendary- with Cuban Revolutionary figure Fidel Castro's passing being the most recent addition to a list of noteworthy figures who've left this world this year.  And even these figures aren't exempt from the divide of opinion on whether or not their death should be mourned or celebrated...

And personally, I was struggling with the day-to-day grind at home, balancing work and my activities while keeping my spirits up regarding being apart from my husband for yet another day.  Long-distance marriages suck, y'all.

But suddenly the levee broke.

The end of the most contentious presidential election in US history.

I got the good news that I had spent nearly 10 months working towards.

Two opposing tidal waves crashed into my face, scratched my eyes out with salted claws and pulled me down to the blackest part of my heart by the ankles, demanding nothing else of me, but to swim. Survive.  The surface is in sight but if you don't continue to swim towards that light then you're going to drown.

In despair, in joy, in complacency.  Doesn't matter.

And so I swam.

​To be honest, I think I've been swimming for a very long time now.

If I think back to when I boarded that plane alone, tear-stained and bitterly cursing every step that took me further from the man I loved, then that's 10 months right there.

Then we go back further still.  To when I lost the ability to work legally and had to stop my blossoming acting chances cold-turkey.  To when the job I thought I had shown exemplary service to decided that they were tired of me and let me go.  To when I first started to fight to make Canada 'home'.  To when I graduated university and thought I had the world before me.  To when I landed in Canada for the first time, cold, sick, cramping, and eager.

That's a 6 year fight.

6 years of fighting the undertow and making strides towards the distant shoreline.  Every victory, a chance to float- to really enjoy the moment and revel in the stillness around me, to watch the sky pass above me and shift in hue.  Every defeat, a sudden slap to the face- those jagged, salted claws coming out again and forcing me underwater, so far down that the sky above me is trapped behind a permeable  stained glass, and the shore more than a distant fever dream.  The dread, the rage, the sadness sinking deeper into my bones, clutching me tighter until it felt like my very soul bled, and daring me to call it quits there and now.

I'm a stubborn gal, so I would tear myself away every time and resolve anew to see the sky again.  And then the shore.  This setback would not drown me.

And so I swam.

And sometimes I would get tired and slip below the surface willingly.  Sometimes the sky wasn't what I needed to see, sometimes I needed to be in the moment and 'feel' that pain too.  Those were the nights I slept in the dark and cried noiselessly.  The days I closed my eyes before work and took deep breaths to steady my mind.  The times were I would smell the salt and jasmine in the summer air, and took a pause to inhale deeply and deliberately.

Then I opened my eyes and swam some more.
​

The stars spoke both favor to my personal life while dimly trying to comfort us all at how the world was turning [To say nothing of the absolute scary-accuracy of my daily tarot draws, guys!].  Of course they had seen it all before, but we were fresh eyes to this era's growing ugliness.  We were bruised and scarred and scared.  But  what more could we do?  The new cards have been dealt, and a new fight was upon us.  So swim, the stars and cards all seemed to say.

So swim I did.
​
Two days after the results of the election left stinging, pungent bile in my throat and caused me to seriously contemplate destroying my US visa for fear of travelling there as a woman of color, I waited at the gates of Nassau's airport with the most delicious of butterflies in my belly and heart as I finally saw the face of a man that I was scared I'd never see again.

The arrival of my husband also marked the last 4 days in my home country and believe me I planned that shit as if I was running a train station- balancing work, errands, souvenir shopping and goodbyes.  The current picked up more and more where even the day of our departure was fraught with hilarious moments of wondering if this would be our breaking point and that the seas would finally claim our souls because of a simple computer error.

But finally on November 14th I touched down again in Canada- the twinkling of Vancouver's city lights dancing dreamily in the air, a Full Moon at full blast to herald my arrival.

And now I am free to 'float' again.

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All photos are from Unsplash.com