Like any good ostrich, I tried to ignore what was happening. It was easier than dealing with it. I couldn't talk to anyone about it. How could I? A sense of desperation began to set in. I thought about Rudy constantly. Even when I was in conversation with someone else, I would be thinking about him. I had always felt that I had a "muse" or some kind of "guardian angel", but was it him? Jesus, what an idea! Come on....Rudolph Valentino?? Just the thought made me blush. It was ludicrous, impossible.
Even though I tried to keep my footing, I was slipping fast. I was being buffeted back and forth by some force I couldn’t see or fight. I became depressed, confused, and frightened. Even if I’d had someone to talk to, I wouldn't have because, I would’ve been giving voice to my pathetic delusions. The imagined sound of derisive laughter made me cringe. I had been laughed at so many times in my life, and the hurt and chagrin were horrible. I couldn’t face it.
Then on or about June 15th, the UPS driver delivered a package containing my copy of the movie, THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE. As soon as I had it in my hands, I ripped off the plastic wrapper and watched the film.
My reaction to the movie was more volatile than the first time I saw it. I know this sounds so damn dramatic, but it's the truth. I started screaming. I was consumed with an emotional agony that made me feel as if I were strangling. I got up and paced through the house talking to myself. Desperation and helplessness overwhelmed me. I was confused and so frightened. I felt totally alone. The sense of isolation exacerbated all the other negative feelings. That’s when the thought of a solution came creeping in.
I couldn't and flat out refused to face the possibility that I was slipping into insanity. The combination of that and the gut-wrenching grief pushed me over the edge. It had to stop! There was only one answer. Get my .45 Colt, chamber a round, one quick flash, it would be over, and I would be at peace. It would be so easy.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like I was slapped...hard. No. No. No! That was not an answer. Never. It was a totally self-absorbed, cruel thing to do. I sat down on the floor, screaming and crying. I felt as if someone had excavated my chest, leaving a huge gaping hole where my heart had been. For several hours I was like a wild woman. It was the most terrifying experience I have ever suffered through.
Luckily, it is impossible to constantly maintain that level of agitation, and as it subsided, I accepted that I had to talk to someone. But who? A psychiatrist? Absolutely not! Damn it, I wasn’t crazy! Was I? Slowly I came to the realization that the help I needed was very specialized. I sat down at my computer and did something I never would have believed I’d do....I googled "Indianapolis Psychics". Naturally, I got pages of results, most of which were those stupid psychic hotlines. However, my attention was grabbed by one...The Center of Peace. Well, I could use a little peace. I clicked on the link and found myself looking at a photo of a lovely woman whose heart and compassion glowed in her eyes. I was drawn to her immediately. Her name... Marilene Isaacs.
I called the phone number. Her assistant asked me if I could come later that day. For some unknown, perfectly orchestrated, reason, Marilene's calendar had opened up due to a last minute cancellation. I agreed. When I set out to drive to her house, I was nervous, hesitant, and very, very skeptical, but something kept telling me that this was my path. It was June 17, 2008.
Gentle Readers, I have said this directly to several people, and I want to say it to you now. With no exaggeration or embellishment........Marilene saved me. She reached out her hand and pulled me out of the sink hole in which I was drowning.
No comments:
Post a Comment