tsunamis

Recently, the coast of Chile was hit with a tsunami due to a massive earthquake of 8.8 magnitude. The news of this taps into a deep fear of mine, tidal waves. I have a general fear of the water of which the symbolic significance is not lost on me. Water is a metaphor for emotions, and while my well runs deep, it is not always calm. My phobia stems from 2 separate near drownings, so it's a reasonable fear. But I'm pretty sure it's more than that.

I've had many a nightmare involving tsunamis where they've taken me under, even when I'm on dry land. One counselor offered some insight noting, "it's a wave so big and overwhelming that you're forced to deal with it." When Cindy went to India, she had taken lots of shots of the coast in Chennai, which was devastated only months after her trip in 2004. When she showed me the pictures of the beautiful children on the beach, we both wept wondering how they fared through such a catastrophe.

Early this morning, the tidal wave hit me. The dogs awoke Tim and me and as we were working out an issue we'd been trying to resolve, it dawned on me that my natural course was to run it by Cindy and come back with objective insight. The loss hit me hard, taking my breath, spinning me every which way. I was disoriented, sobbing, unable to breathe. Tim stayed with me through it, as did my trusty dog Rocco who had been curled up at my belly and did not budge, even with all the thrashing and heaving with grief.

There is a strange calm after a storm. I hadn't cried since the house was emptied and I knew this week would be tough, so I'm relieved to have ridden the wave and come out breathing again on dry land.

Earlier this week I had a beautiful dream that started with me feeling distressed when Bruce appeared in his leather chair, which now resides in my living room. He gave me words of reassurance and hope in typical Bruce fashion, pragmatic, stoic and logically sound. I was instantly grateful and told him so, and he just smiled. It's going to be okay.