Things end. The world can come crashing down around your ears. The ground can shake and crumble and crack beneath you. You can pass through the darkest night of the soul, but the dawn does come. The ground will stop moving. The sky will clear and the bright blue of the heavens will beam down on you.
New beginnings follow that which ends. The Ace of Swords reminds us that once the emotional dust settles, our head will clear and we can begin again. We can build our lives anew. We may lose everything, but we don't have to accept defeat. The best revenge is living well; being happy.
I've been feeling unsettled and off balance in the past few months. I've felt a constant shift of emotion which isn't who I am. It isn't how I function. I've always been even keel girl.
When you feel off balance, when you feel the raw seething of anxiety inside you, you begin to wonder if you'll ever feel alright again. I've sat with that feeling for the past few weeks, but then I remembered that I have been here before. I buried those memories, but I've been here before.
My first born son came into this world with a thick head of red hair and the most perfect translucent pale skin that the Universe only bestows on those who have a touch of Irish in them. As he grew, he really was the perfect child: brilliant, easy going, even self soothing. He would rock his own carrier.
His older sister was always the leader. She always had her own way, not because my red headed boy didn't have a mind of his own, but because of his own easy going nature. He just knew to take the path of least resistance and to keep his life in easy balance.
I'd known the usual upsets of life: break ups, disappointments in work; family conflict, but until I held my beautiful son in my arms while he seized for almost five minutes, I didn't know what terror and anxiety were.
The world stops in those moments. I spent sleepless months watching him, unproductive doctor visits, multiple stays in the hospital, making futile pleas to the powers that be that he wouldn't have another seizure, but he did. Three, spread out over about a six month period. Each just as terrifying as the last.
Then, one seizure free month turned into two, two turned into six, six months turned into a year. From the age of four onward, he never seized again, although I don't think I've ever worried about any of my other children the way I worry over him. He was and is the most delightful red headed boy to walk this earth.
I got through it, and I know that I will get through this period of unease too. I can take the Sword into my hand. I can cut my own path through the troubles that lie ahead. I will get to the other side and begin again.
I've done it before. I can do it now. I will probably have to do it again some time in the future.
It's painful. It hurts, but I am made of strong stuff. I have the steel of the sword in me. I will find that balance. I will regain what I lost. I'm going to be just fine.