Category: Meet my Monsters

Being overwhelmed. An understatement.

 We’ve all felt it. We’ve all muddled through. There are degrees. 

It’s a silent thing. Sometimes it’s a response to mental health issues. Sometimes it’s a trigger for them.Sometimes, even when help is offered, we are so far down the rabbit hole we don’t know where to begin. The fear that if we open up, the tidal wave that may come out won’t stop. So we don’t. Vitriol and sarcasm leak out instead. We detach from those that can/want to help. We hyper-attach to people or things that may serve as a temporary distraction. We fix a mask to our faces and hope it holds for public viewing.

We look at others who seem to manage and think we are just weak, disorganized, deficient in someway that we can’t handle our day to day. We choose to see their mask, not the chaos.

This is a marker in my own mental health. Over the years I have been working hard at certain aspects of my mental illness, digging out triggers, learning new tools to work through an anxiety attack, working through buried trauma and anger. Over time I did a lot of things to distract myself from the day today overwhelming crush of life that I could not manage while the battles raged.

I was pretty decent at giving the appearance that I could juggle it all, marriage, motherhood, career(s), creative outlets, working on my anxiety disorder, a social life. I even fooled myself, until I couldn’t.

When I was in Vancouver last year with a dear friend for the SPN con, I was blessed to spend time with another lifelong friend I hadn’t physically seen in years. We’ve always had a bond that can not be explained. We talked late into the night. He has struggled hard over the years too, and last year was one of the hardest. I supported as best I could, from the physical distance that had separated us. I was so relieved to finally look into his eyes and see he was finding solid ground.He took my hands and looked me in the eyes and said ‘enough’. He could see my through my mask. He knew I had hit a critical time. And he lovingly called me out. He saw all the cracks in the facade.

There were other profound experiences and conversations I had that weekend ( who knew a tv show convention would lead to profound life changes?!) that began to percolate ideas in my head and heart.

I had been rocking the bright red hair for some time prior to this ( ‘hey look, i’m good! I’m vibrant! I am a spectacle to enjoy!! I am on FIRE!!!!) It represented the ‘fiery drive’ I was bringing to my 40s. Living past my mother. Determined to prove I deserved to do so. In Vancouver I dyed it black/purple. Initially it was for cosplay, so, I could have done it with a temporary or a wig.But I knew in my heart the redhead was not coming back from Vancouver. She couldn’t. The next step could not be done by her. The wild red needed to be grounded and brutally honest with herself.

In my juggling act of the last few years my anxiety would often take over and I would go back and forth between proving all ‘ I am!’ And lamenting my torment with some of my monsters and how much of a failure I was…. it’s funny, because at that time a newer friend would take pains to remind me I’m human, and that was ok. I’d feel disappointed and angry at this, which looking back now, I didn’t want to be seen as mere mortal, I wanted to believe I was ‘better’ than that because ‘look how many plates I can spin in the air!All while battling my monsters!’( please pay no attention to all the broken plates on the floor). 

There have been a few catalysts since my return in September. Situations presented to me that forced my hand to truly be accountable, not just for what’s going on, for what’s been avoided, but the fall out on others around me. I had to take a long glaring look at what I was avoiding and why, my boundaries, my actions and really decide what I was going to do.

I realized I had let so much fester in the background, that the ‘hidden’ clutter in my head and house could no longer be ignored. I was and had been, for sometime feeding some of my own monsters. All the while, dear reader, sharing some of the battles with you, raising battle cries, encouragement and showing how much I was learning about my own mental health struggles. I was and am still determined to help myself and the people I care about.But in someways I’ve failed you all dear readers. I kept to the light and didn’t really jump into the muck until the fall. I had risked relationships due to the clutter, disorganization and noise.A few situations came to a head. 

It is hard. Small chunks at a time. Set a new boundary here. Clean out that closet there. Get paperwork in order here. Hard conversation and accountability there.Still battling monsters. Trying to not chastise my self for the disorganization. Trying to not feel broken at the disconnect with others who had been pulled into my vortex. Hoping that I can be forgiven by those I’ve disappointed by the messes created. Hoping to forgive myself and be less disappointed that there was such a wounded duality. Learning to say no. Learning to hear no. Making it not so much about me. Making honest room for others. Work at undoing a trigger. Keep trying move forward and plan. Find forgiveness. Reconnect in healthy ways. 

Try to reestablish so much of the good, creative and ‘magical’ things I discovered about myself, my spiritual nature, and the world around me, during the last few years. And be the person I intend. The person I almost thought I was. All the while fighting the slippery slope of falling back into comfortable patterns that no longer serve a healthy purpose.
A tall order. With no guaranteed outcome. 

Reflected in the mood hair, I suppose. The red flamed out. With it, I hope, the burning chaos that cluttered the spaces, scorched myself, others and pulled all the air out of the room.In its place, a shadow of the embers. Dark, earthy. Rivers of purple and faint red wind through the pitch. Representing cool movement forward, I hope.

I appreciate all of you so much, those who have followed, read my stuff and encouraged me. I hope you will continue to do so. I hope my honesty will not discourage your faith in me. As I work at the changes in my real ( not online) life I also hope to find forgiveness from those I love. And forgiveness for myself.
Thank you all so much for reading. ❤️💜

Plays and plans and life

My heart is aching this morning.
We’re told to envision what we want for our lives, when we create these plays in our heads, we have the other actors do as we need, do as we want, to create an idealistic dream.
Growing up I didn’t have a grand sense of community or family. There wasn’t the regular coming together of dinner or shared times, there wasn’t the effort put into building and maintaining deep connections, relationships, the practice of forgiveness or acceptance.I’m not faulting anyone for this, it just happened to be the environment I grew up in.
In my 20s I had a group of friends, that hung together all the time, we were in and out of each other‘s apartments, backyards, sharing drinks sharing laughs doing like 20-year-olds do. The tight bond of the time.
As we all grew into our 30s and started to create our families and “settle down “we tried to maintain what we could. We moved to different parts, got different jobs, headed in multiple directions. The ‘togetherness’ was less frequent, deep….Life began to change and grow and we meet new people, in part because of your kids, in part because your life takes different directions career and hobby wise, changes come again.
By the time I hit my own watershed at 40, I had a clear sense of what I wanted, what I wanted for my family.I wanted a regular village of people to come together, that were supportive, understanding, creative, calming, and that we would all look out for each other. Build a sense of community and a sense of varied deep connection that I’ve always yearned for.I wanted to have that for my own children so they knew in their hearts that there’s so many people around who love them and want to see them grow and flourish.
I wanted old and new to bond, grow, become my village, my family’s village. 
One began to emerge out of the ether, it was blending, it was growing, I could feel my creativity humming, joy at having multiple kids running around the yard, communal foods to prepare and share. People to rely on, being meaningfully relied upon. Laughter, ideas new and old to be discussed, challenged, stimulated. 
I envisioned an ever growing merry band of misfits that looked out for each other, helped foster our creative and spiritual natures, supported and gently challenged and nurtured each other. Creating a safe open environment for our children to learn acceptance, forgiveness and that vulnerability is strength. 
As fast as it felt it was coming together it seemed to fall apart. Why? Ego? Life? Pettiness? Misunderstanding? Time? Jealousy about perceived positions? Circumstances? No room for change, understanding, vulnerability, acceptance or forgiveness?I have been given many reasons, many ‘justifications’, and maybe I’m too naive or stupid to get it, but I never understood the actual why.
I just knew that no one read my play. No one read the words or understood the meaning. They all had their own stage production they were mounting. No one acknowledged how important these connections, village mind, if you will, can be for mental and emotional survival. How beautiful it could be. Especially given our current world state. 
So it collapsed upon itself. Seemingly having fault lines and divides appear. Coldness replacing warmth. Excuses to not get together, eventually no plans and in some cases silence.
I maintained hope that after a time it would come back together. I lamented to a friend about how deeply I missed all of it. I was harshly told I was being stupid, no one wanted to put the time and effort in. No one wanted these things. Just me, and I should knock it off. Although I was apologized to later and told it should have been put in a nicer way it didn’t matter. It stung and it broke my hope.
I withdrew. Fearful of trying to plan gatherings, bringing people together and the stress and anxiety this now caused.Sad at how restrictive it felt. Isolated that I was the only one who seemed to treasure and miss what had begun.Looking for contentment in smaller, less frequent visits with various people.
Today another friend who was a part of this mentioned to me how she too missed it and was remiss to mention that for fear of making my heart ache.Bless her. While yes it awoke an ache, no more so than FB memories from that time, (I choose to not share them. I sigh, shed a tear, stay quiet and scroll past, for fear others have a very different view and it will cause discord)I am so grateful that someone else misses it. Saw the potential for what it could have been. I don’t feel quite so stupid or naive.
I don’t know what may happen, if anything in the future. If my ‘play’ will ever come to fruition and who the ‘players’ may be.At least I know what is possible in the right time, circumstances and knowledge. And for that I’m gratefulI’m grateful for the connections I had and those I continue to have. I have gratitude for the abundance that is in my life. I am grateful for what is shared and can be shared.
Thanks for reading. 
💜❤️💜

Sent from my iPhone

But you seem like you have it together……. 1

I have what is classified as a Generalized Anxiety Disorder, with a small side of PTSD and BFRB.
GAD- or generalized anxiety disorder makes it sound so mild. It’s not. Even when it’s not in the forefront, it is still there. The following are symptoms I can have to varying degrees at anytime.
Physical feelings of anxiety (e.g. heart racing, sweating, stomach discomfort) Feeling fidgety, restless or unable to sit still Feeling irritable, getting easily upset, snapping at people for minor reasons Sleep problems: this can include having a hard time falling asleep, waking up frequently during the night, or having a restless and unsatisfying sleep Difficulty paying attention or concentrating Being easily fatigued Muscle pains (often in the neck and shoulders) Paranoia that I am disliked, being set up, used, laughed at.  Digestive issues ( mine were some of my first symptoms and originally diagnosed as IBS) that get bad enough I can’t eat.

PTSD- or post traumatic stress disorder is actually one of my milder issues ( although for many others this is a devastating and debilitating condition in its own right). I only seem to get involuntary physical/emotional reactions when certain areas of my body ( neck, jaw, shoulder and feet) are touched without warning and/or I am already in an anxious state.For the most part my PTSD has just resulted in a ‘Swiss cheese’ type memory, periodic runs of vicious, vivid nightmares, relating to the first 20 years of my life.
BFRB- or body focused repetitive behaviours. Again this is relatively minor for me, but can have serious repercussions for others. I continually bite the inside of my lip, tongue and cheeks.
A few other symptoms I can have are: Tremors/ shakes in my hands ( mostly left). Again my left hand will tightly clench into a fist at night. Issues with my TMJ, chronic headaches. My breath can become ‘hitched’ like I’ve been crying and can’t catch it. The inability / fear to talk on the phone. Areas of old physical trauma burn like they are on fire. Defeatist/ negative talk becomes overwhelming. 

When I was young and running the gamut of trying to get a proper diagnosis ( no I’m not depressed, hysterical, just trying to get attention…….etc) I was medicated often. I self medicated often. I acted out, stealing, promiscuity, cutting, drug use……
I discovered that the standard medications had very negative effects for me. My symptoms would get worse or the side effects, even the most obscure would be unbearable. I am grateful that these medications exist, I know they help some of my most beloved friends and family. It just never worked for me.
With varying degrees of success I had begun to build coping strategies/ mechanisms.
I replaced promiscuous behaviours with trying to eat myself to death ( 400+ pounds is where I topped out at 28)
I became a driven achiever 
Cutting became less frequent, but well hidden outbursts of hitting a wall or something equivalent until I was bruised became a more ‘acceptable’ outlet.
I would write, but the ‘characters’ I would create to be my avatars always met a vicious and violent end.
As I became a Mother and have gotten older there are better strategies I have created, a much cleaner diet, more physical activity, massage, alternative therapies, meditation. I still write fictions and battles but now the avatar finds strength, sometimes help, sometimes faith, but ultimately overcomes. Beautiful symbols and art are now tattoos that have replaced the ugly scaring of self harm. Making sure to get family time and time outside can also help. Getting time to shut down and be alone is also necessary. But the demons are still there, pretty quiet at times, raging psychos the next.

I am now in my mid forties, a mom of an amazing 11 year old girl, in love with the same man for 25 years. I run a successful business. I’m still plagued by demons. I have for the most part kept myself busy enough that I could out run them, ignore them because I didn’t have time to deal with it. What I had been doing up until then had got me far, served me mostly well. Just keep plugging along. Break in the shower, keep the ‘twitches’ hidden as best as you can. Write a little, work harder, achieve more……

Circumstance, age, chronic injury and fatigue have forced my hand into reexamining my mental health, coping mechanisms, accountability, boundaries and complacency. This has not been a fast paced journey. This has been a brutal path. Exhilarating, terrifying, beyond challenging, emotional and definitely not for the faint of heart. Four years ago I knew something needed to change. I just didn’t know what that was going to look like. I didn’t know the work involved. I had no idea how much of my darkness I have faced and continue to do so. This is where the spiral begins……..

My Darkness

It swallows me whole.

I feel it pull me under.

My feet of lead

I fight to break the surface

Gulping for air

Reaching

Down I go again

It fills my lungs with sticky tar

My body heavy

It covers my ears

Silence screaming

Filling my mouth

Pushing in on me

My heart pounding

My fight slows

Each movement harder than the last

I reach

Nothing

No hands to grasp

No strength to lift

Farther down I go

The darkness now matching pressure

I let go

Give in

It slows the pain

Try to draw breath

Choking on the muck

Close my eyes

Heartbeat slows

It swallows me whole

Goodbye my friend?

Make the decision to let something go. A song will no longer remind you of a breakup, seeing the person will no longer cause pain in your chest, hearing their name will no longer bring tears, happy memories may be once again looked on fondly. Make the decision and you can get there. But it is not easy. It is not linear. It is a spiral, it creeps back on you, out of the shadows. You feel the prickle on your neck, the heat move up your face and the tears threatening to spill. The sick drop in the deep of your gut, the hurt, anger and grief.

We often use this kind of imagery when talking about an ex lover, an acrimonious break up. The death of a dear loved one, deep grief of loss. Seldom about the break up of a friendship. But I am the first to attest that these deep wounds of loss that I am feeling are for the loss of a friendship that I loved, and for the collateral damage it has caused. It was a long time, long held friendship. One I thought would stand the test of time. With the demise of this once enjoyable, adventurous, always interesting relationship, so much else was irrevocably changed.

We had once worked together, our families celebrated so much together, birthdays, weddings, births, sometimes just a nice summer day was enough to bring us together. These gatherings started long before children, they morphed over the years to include children and growing families. We went from our twenties to our forties, with humour and style. Then it changed.

Can I pin point when? I think maybe now, I can kind of see when it first began to take a turn. But that has taken time for me to figure out. If you had asked me six months ago what happened and when….. I would have told a much different story. One where I am the complete victim of an unprovoked, subtle, destructive, gaslighting. One where I had no culpability to the drama. A drama that came out of no where. One where some very important relationships in my life had become collateral damage, or specific targets to destroy, meant to hurt me. A story where my trust and faith in so many people was broken, where I felt alone, unimportant, tainted by her alleged portrait of me.

At first I wanted it to just disappear, there had been so much other drama I had been dealing with, the addition of this had the potential to be crippling to me and very sacred things in my life. I decided to just ignore her, at least for the time that the drama blew up. But the ripple effects became wider and things had to come out in the open. I eventually wanted to hear her side, what was truth, misunderstood, what ever, just an explanation, a healing, a finish…something, anything. I thought maybe she would want that too. That our friendship had meant enough for her to want to sort out the mess. I reached out, I tried to ask, I was met with nothing. No one else could offer an explanation. Or wanted too.

I tried then to ‘let it go’. Tried to make peace with not knowing, make peace that few involved, seemed not all that bothered by what had happen and the destruction it had brought. I had asked that not much be disrupted on social media as our kids were friends and this did not involve them. Our connections are many and it makes life complicated. I was hopeful that a few may step up and ignore her in solidarity with me. But it did not happen. I was hoping time would soften and some type of resolution found. Nothing. I took a break from much social media, I could not handle seeing everyone else interact as though nothing had happened (even though I said it was ok, that no one owes me anything, that I can not control who talks to who, that it was a better way to handle things- but remember I do have anxiety and the gross trauma based need to please and keep things calm). My anxiety monsters feasted on the distrust, anger and sadness this brought. I did my best to contain the worst of how I felt when it bubbled up.

But my brain chewed on this, I need to try to understand, for myself at this point more than anything. In looking back, I think the slight cracks began to show at at a critical time for my friend, she was going through great loss and turmoil. ( Due to the anxious nature of my brain, I analyze things to the smallest parts, replay to try to figure things out. Sometimes it’s a handy skill, sometimes it is a paralyzing task.) I don’t think I was the friend she needed, maybe. I don’t think I was completely there for her due to the circumstances of my own life. I am sure I have some accountability. We had grown apart for some time, long before this, life was hectic. She needed support, I gave what I could, perhaps not mindful enough of what was needed. Perhaps I said something hurtful but was not mindful enough to notice and it set a poison seed. I had begun to make peace. Things were quiet, her presence seemed to diminish some.

I waited a few months. In a moment of hopefulness, and at an opportune time I tried to send her a birthday greeting, noting social media settings had been manipulated so I can see her but can not contact her. So I texted. It was met with a thank you, and that was all. No follow up, no anything. Except a bump in her presence again everywhere. Again the anxiety returned, bringing with it the ugly monsters of grief, distrust and deep sadness. Again I made the decision to ‘let it go’. I can’t change what happened. I will never understand except for the explanation(s) I have created in my own head.

The sick feeling I got when her name would pop up (thanks social media for having to show who is always doing what and where), was starting to soften. But I could feel the grief, it was hard but getting easier to move through. Until it hit again this weekend. Having to do with birthday party invites, family dinner expectations, and a semi rehash of assumed/alleged events, and the loss being felt by not only me, but my family. And her presence everywhere else increased. The sick, sad, confused feeling returned. Hopefully for a short while. But again, with the exception of this post, a break from direct social media until it ebbs and I can once again be the grown up who can handle the observation of whom is chatting, commenting or ‘liking’ and not feel hurt, sad.

I keep telling my family that sometimes we don’t ever get to understand fully what happen’s in some situations, that it can be ok to let go, disconnect from someone, wish no ill will, that life will move on and be ok. I keep telling them that truly we are not owed anything by anyone and time will move on. That at this point no answer will satisfy. That anger is pointless. And that the sadness will fade. I will keep saying it until I can fully believe it all the time, and the memories I have of all the times spent and shared can once again be seen with love and grace, not sadness and grief. That my anxiety trigger around this is temporary. That the distrust I feel with heal, and I will no longer wish that anyone will stand in solidarity (us vs them immature mentality) with me and cut her out. That I will no longer let the monsters periodically play on my self worth by feeling I didn’t matter enough to her, or to others who did not ‘choose’ to side with me.

I do believe the Universe will keep bringing us back to the same, to show us if we really have learned and/ or let go. I fundamentally understand why this is important, to teach us to really move on, to provide us healing. But I don’t have to like being brought back to this place again.

I resent that it still drives me from other connections (even if temporary), I resent the feelings that still come up, that I still have to work at it. I resent so much of this, I am grieving so many things because of this. I resent that I still want to understand why. I resent that she never tried. Today it is hard to find hope that I can move on. It is hard to hope that all of this sharp pain will dull permanently. It is hard to have hope that I will be ok with her presence and not feel the just a bit resentful and so sad. It is hard to manage the trigger this pulls for the anxiety monster that eats at me. It is hard to have hope that all the things affected by this will ever be completely righted. It is hard to not wish that she feels just as sad and hope that the loss of me matters. It is hard to quash that tiny little flame of hope that it can be saved, that it should be saved, that it was worth enough to both of us.

Tomorrow I will again choose to ‘let go’ and hope that there is a longer reprieve, that the next round is softer, shorter. Tomorrow I will again choose compassion, and hope that someone makes that choice for me. Tomorrow I will choose to wish her well.

In the dark

Your best didn’t help anything.’

Those words finally broke the pin that was holding it all together. Those words shred me to ribbons. 
Said by my daughter, in a moment of exhausted, frightened, frustration.

As I lean against the bathroom door, gutted, snot and tears running down my face, in this moment, it crashes in how right she is. 

My best did not salvage her summer. 
My best has not stopped the the nerve damage in her face from making her self conscious at an already precarious time. 
My best did not ensure the pharmacy would be able to get the medications she needs to start right away. 
My best has not hastened the wait to get them tomorrow. 
My best does not reassure her it is temporary. 
My best has not changed my work schedule to be more present for my daughter, my husband.
My best has not armed my daughter well for the pressures of this world. 
My best has not alleviated my husband’s chronic condition. 
My best has not stopped friendships from drifting. 
My best has not sorted my clutter out. 
My best has not supported my friends in helpful ways. 
My best has not defeated my mental monsters.
My best has not gotten me physically back on track
My best has not been a stellar role model

This week has felt like spears coming from all angles.
A long seemingly continuous few days of various life dramas. 
Nights of broken sleep. 
Then my daughters nervous energy about starting school in classes where she really doesn’t know anyone. Hyperaware of her few chicken pox scars and crooked smile.
Tonight, after a long wait at urgent care walk in, to be given a prescription and a referral, only to be told by the late night pharmacy, we need to go to a different one tomorrow as they don’t have what we need. I tried to soothe my frazzled child. I gently remind her I’m doing my best.

‘Your best didn’t help anything’

Her spear hit the pin holding me together and knocked it loose. It all comes out in a torrent of silent tears, behind the bathroom door, as to not disrupt her falling into a sleep she needs.

I sit hours later in the dark, writing, silent tears again, as to not wake the household that so much needs it’s rest. My head pounding. I feel overwhelmed by life, broken by the weight of it. Punished for reasons I’m unclear on. I’m so tired I can’t help but feel this is all personal.
In the silent dark, I try to let it run out of me, the fear, the frustration, the anxiety, the sadness. 
Try to find the pin that was knocked loose, jimmy it back into place. 
And hope that by the light of morning, maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, if I can find my way to it, my best just might be enough to help something.

When a motherless mother feels lost

Today I need her

Today I need to know

Can I do this?

I’m a bleeding heart

My soul raw

Can I do this?

How can I navigate her through this?

When this is when my compass died

Can I do this?

My daughter needs her mother

This daughter needs her mother

Can I do this?

I’ll take her hand, whisper ‘be brave’

I won’t let her see me shake

As my hand reaches for a ghost

Can I do this?

Can love be enough when I have no clue

Love wasn’t enough when I had to miss you.

Can I do this?

Choices we make

We choose how we react to any situation. That is our control.

Sometimes it is hard not to take what the universe throws at us very personally. Especially when the monsters in your head can twist much to that bent.

I am not proud of my reactions this morning.

I snarked at some well intended things and was not very understanding to another, and perhaps unkind/cold to another friend who is in distress.

I am tired, I am dealing with the things that hurt, my monsters are loud.

But my things/needs to not supersede anyone else’s. Yet I want to scream ‘what about me? I have shit to, incase it matters!!’

In these moments I feel lost, in my heart I want to offer gratitude, love and compassion- despite the deficit I feel. I used to be able to choose that almost instantly- despite the monsters.

This morning I did not / could not make that choice. My monsters whisper that no one makes that choice for me, so why bother for anyone else…… I am overwhelmed, overthinking and overtired. These are not meant as excuses, just a framework for how my monsters can take over.

I know I will owe apologies but I believe I am entitled to some understanding.

For now, until this current storm passes, and my tears dry, my choice will now be to be quiet ( the adage, ‘if you can’t say anything nice….) to try to do some good somewhere today, and hope that those I was not the best to this morning understand and choose to kindness, compassion and understanding in my direction.

Always choose kindness when you can. Try to remember it’s rarely personal, trust that you do count, you do matter and love yourself first, even when the monsters seem to be the ones in the drivers seat.

✌🏻

Filled Void

The greatest art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain. – Lord Byron

The heart, soul and brain all work differently. 
The brain makes a decision
The heart may fight it/ jump on board
The soul may cry/ sing

To make the decision to try to truly be present in ones life is hard. Not jumping to the future, not visiting with ghosts of the past. The here, now.

Can be lonely, with out others to be here, now- as they all seem to be other places. But do we base our existence off the recognition of others? Why? ( is it just me? It is, says the monster of invisibility)

It’s hard to sustain ( but what will happen if we don’t over think the what if’s, cries the monsters of uncertainties)

It’s a strange freedom to try for ( but you do not deserve that freedom, it is for others more worthy, cry the monsters of the past as they try to chain you down)

What is the present sensation? Calm? Connected? Cold? Pain? Love? Distrust? Amazement? Distain? Joy?
Why is this sensation present? Feel it…. let it move through…. learn what you can…… let go.
So easy to say. So hard to do.

Between two worlds life hovers, like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizons verge. – Byron