The Return of My Voice and My Wholeness

I do not know when and how it happened, but part of me found herself standing and staring at the shoreline of a wide-ranging river. The other me was left abandoned right across the other side of the river shore. Forgotten over time, she faded away, grew quieter and quieter now a mere shadow of former herself.

Catching a glimpse of this memory I felt a sense of immense loss as the split sides of myself stared back at each other, separated by the loud, raging water. 

Endeavouring to make sense of whatever was at the root of this severing, I felt lost. I looked down at the ground I stood on, willing it to speak and give me some answers. 

Silence responded with reverberating loudness.

The fragmentation was overwhelming. I felt like a hollow and broken version of myself. I lifted my hands as if reading my palms would help uncover truths about my predicament. Nothing was forthcoming.

I contemplated for a moment to think if it was answers or the right questions I sought out. 

To this day I remain unsure.

I look up and back to the other me and try to call out to her, but no sound comes... I try again, and the words formed remain unspoken, piling up at my throat... 

Instinctively, I reach out to touch my neck, then face towards my lips and discover in horror my mouth is missing. Both hands are now running accross my face seeking desperately to make sense of things. Doubt and fear flood my mind. 

Where did my mouth go? Did I ever even have one in the first place? 

The memory of words expressed lay persistent in the back of my mind. I started to recall my voice and how it felt and sounded. I remember when it coursed through me, seamlessly weaving into shape the meaning of my innermost thoughts, expressions and desires. 

The strain of the unexpressed words kept building.  As the sensation grew, I noticed myself fading. It was as though the more inaudible I was, the fuzzier I got. 

I sensed danger.

I glanced back up and across to the broken-off me beckoning,  gesturing as if to say... “Come back to me, to you.”

Right then, I knew what I needed to do...

Looking down at the raging waters flowing past, I hesitated slightly. The sheer force and swell of the water currents threatened to sweep me away downriver to the unknown. 

Even so, the desire to step in and wade across were more compelling. It was as if I knew my life depended on it. I took a breath, kept my gaze on the other side, shrugged off the trepidation and waded toward the other me.  

Each measured but wobbly step closer each time to a reclamation of my voice and a restoration of my wholeness. 

My voice is on it's way returning to me.

Here goes the journey to wholeness....