Not Saturn Dear...

Words are funny things. They are permanent, but also fleeting. Sometimes we are aware of the significance. Other times, the most flippant statement can feel devastating. I often ruminate about the words spoken from my mouth, usually into some kind of self-indulgent crisis. I would call to repent for the offense. The person typically laughed and told me it wasn’t a big deal. They knew I was kidding or my comment didn’t bother them at all.

 A year ago however, my entire universe was spinning. I had no idea how to stop it. In forcing myself to accept a new reality, I spent the week purging the house from the life that was. It was left open for possibilities for a life that could be.

 What could that life be? 

 My birthday. a few days away, I decided to throw myself a party. I would fill my house with laughter and friends. To fill every inch of it with a new life and love for the new future I was facing. I needed to remind myself for the next year, that I was not alone. I asked them all if they could contribute a piece of art to this new home.

 A friend from Florida was in town and not able to come to the party. I was invited to a gathering with a bunch of mutual friends. The idea overwhelmed me. However, I couldn’t see any way to turn it down. He lived in Florida. A few years before, I traveled with a friend for a cruise and she and I had dinner with him and his husband. 

 This would be my first night in public after the…. YOU KNOW.

 I called a friend to tag along and we went. 

 How can I explain what life is like inside a PTSD/Trauma reactive brain? It is something like standing in a television store: all of the screens are on a different channel and each one has its volume up to eleven while you are trying to have a conversation with the person standing next to you. Problem is, you are the only one who hears the sound of the televisions. 

 There I stood in the lovely backyard of friends, with my adorable Florida gazing at the stars. We snarked and giggled a bit about my life at the moment. Then he pointed me to the moon in the Southwest. Holding up his phone with an astronomy app open he said, 

 “Look! Jup(static)iter is the closest to the Earth it has been in (static) years.”

 I looked up at the beautiful moon and the small glowing pin of light standing next to it. I felt in awe. Suddenly the grass became real under my feet. I could hear the fountain trickling in the backyard. The balmy summer air had the familiar Central Valley oder. My brain was quiet for a minute. Everything stopped spinning. Florida was real. I was real. I didn’t hurt in every place of my being. In my sudden excitement i burst with, 

 “OH! That’s the one with the rings!”

 Florida looked at me shocked. He then gently smiled. With a full throaty laugh he said, “Not Saturn, Dear.” I began to laugh with tears. 

 “Of course! I know that!” He gently took me and  his phone. Swung us around to the East where Saturn hung in the sky. “See, there’s Saturn.” We turned to the southwest again, “And look it’s Jupiter.”

 We couldn’t stop laughing at my silly word salad. What Florida didn’t know, he found my North Star. In simply and gently correcting my perspective, I began to feel myself for the first time in a week. 

 I could feel myself breathing.

I felt a little hungry. 

I felt Loved. 

The universe stopped spinning.

I knew where Saturn and Jupiter were.

 That night, I came home to face another night of dreaded sleep. I sat on my mattress against the window. I looked up and there was the Moon and Jupiter shining. I heard Florida’s words, “Not Saturn, Dear.” I began to cry. I knew for the first time in a week those words gave me a reason to go to sleep. I also now had a reason to wake up.

 For tomorrow night, when I went to bed… the Moon and Jupiter would be there to greet me.

 I was going to be ok.