I walked through life upon a tight rope.
At times, it was 10 feet wide. Others, it was mere millimeters.
I fell, silently. My voice was stolen at the age of 12. I was unable to cry for help.
Below, an abyss. A deep, dark, prickly place.
I was walking along, happier than I’d been for some time, when I stumbled.
The abyss was waiting for me, with its greedy claws outstretched.
*
This time, I clung to the rope above me. I didn’t want to fall. Not this time. Please, not this time.
I clung. Limp. Barely holding on. Invisible to those passing by.
But you. You. You know who you are. You noticed. You stopped. You grabbed onto what remained of my self, and you pulled with all your might. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know how, but you pulled against the abyss, anyway.
I know you hear me say thank you. But can you ever know what it means to me to be pulled, unscathed, from the abyss? It almost swallowed me whole for the millionth time, and you saved me. You helped me to find my voice. Thank you will never be enough.
And Nic. You changed my life with your story. We are sisters, you and I. Sisters of sorrow, of grief and of unimaginable pain, but also of survival. Your strength gives me hope for the future.
Quieter than the squeak of a field mouse, I spoke. Filled with anger, my voice rose.
You heard me. You stopped. You listened. You gave me strength. Every one of you.
Melissa and Duchess and Sautter and Cindy and Kendra and Neena and Issa and Stacey and Nic and Tracy and Meghan and Jenna and PB and Jazz and Megan and Habanero Gal and Marinka and Heather C. and Kellee and Krissy and Eileen and Samantha and Tricia and Vixen and Lora and Kathy and Greis and Maura and Heather and Katie and Kirsten and Al_Pal and Kari and Kate and Stoneskin and Susan. And always, always, my husband. My trapeze artist, trying to catch me.
The abyss is still there. It will always be there.
For twenty years, it was a deep and lonely chasm I walked above, never knowing when I might fall.
Always, I wondered when my happiness would be taken from me.
But now. There is a safety net below me.
The abyss has lost its power.
Thank you.
* courtesy of google images
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