The things you can tell by looking at her.

Be kind; for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle….

  Since October 25, 2014, I have been waiting to lose my marbles. I guess today was my day. 

Grace, followed by numbness and an ache too vast for tears has kept me suspended in a state of silent agony. There were many times I felt it rising but something or someone would always swoop in and save me from myself; well timed and seemingly divinely placed.

But this morning, at 4:08 am the tides turned and left me gasping for air as I listened to a voicemail when I got up to pee.

My soul sista Krista died from pain.

Right from the start we were hitched, cosmically, karmically– day one of massage school, one month and 4 days after the towers– and our nation fell, to our knees. Krista Ryser and Christina Ryan. A match made in sacred sister heaven. We were ALL in– some folks were in that class to work on athletes, some to chase spa dreams– but we were aligned in our mission to ” help heal the world one body at a time”. 

We also shared a love of nature, dancing, a good time, and Isarelli.

She loved Isaac like my sisters do. She loved me like no one I’ve ever known. She loved me so much, so fiercely, there were times I felt like She might explode. It was intoxicating to be adored so much. But I always knew it was pure, unadulterated adulation of the best parts of me. As we left school and made our way into the world, that never faltered. She was my own personal cheerleader. She never missed a birthday or personal milestone. She was steady as they come.

I used to tease her that she was a vault; I told her every story under the sun about me, and never felt even remotely judged. But I never got to hear her stories. She was too interested in “tell me more”. 

I sensed deep pain but she would laugh it away when probed. She was never anything less than poised and gracious and glorious in her demeanor.

The girl loved adventure, vodka and laughter. Unequivocally Blissed out on life. The only time I ever heard her cry was when I told her about my depression and again after Isaac left us. She howled in agony that I cannot articulate for you, dear reader. 

There is no one I have ever met that was quite like her. Even at the times when I just intuitively felt that something was awry in Ryserland, she was lit from within, authentically, with a radiant vibrancy that words do not give justice. Passionate for life and humanity.

And yet she died in unarticulated sorrow and grief that belies what she let me see.

I have had enough of shame and sorrow killing the beautiful souls in this world.

Last week I witnessed a dog get run over by a car right in front of my eyes as I had stopped to help it out of the middle of the road. I also saved a dear friend from a near house fire. And I talked a mom through the near death of her child to suicide. And another mama who’s child was at the doorstep of despair. That was just last week. I was confronted again with the unspeakable horror of pointless trauma. I begged God for a reprieve and was given none. And now I know. There. Is. No. Break. From. Life. 

I have turned my heart from love in an effort to shield myself from loss. It has gotten me no where fast. 

If you are the end of your rope– I UNDERSTAND YOU! Believe me when I say I do.

Let us walk this weary road together. Chasing the light. That seems the only choice we have. 

I am the first in line to say let me handle this darkness alone and in my own way on my own time. Please stop letting that be an option. For me. For you. We will not survive it without each other.

I know this in the bones of my bones. Can you feel it too?

Devisiveness is taking over our country as we speak. Who among us will choose to love, even when that love is thwarted? Even when love is met with disappointment? Even when the ache seems more than we can possibly bear?

I am looking for an army of love warriors to join me. We may be down trodden and bruised to the marrow— but love is the only thing that by nature is resilient. I am for love, and only love. Who the fuck is with me?

Lay your burdens down. Look at what and who you love. Fight like hell for a victory of love. What choice do we have?

  

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Published by: christinaryanstoltz

I write to touch the supple center of unguarded ache~ To release myself from the pressure of not knowing how to move forward from the unfathomable loss of my beloved son, my beautiful boy Isaac, to suicide, of not knowing how to release my grip on of the past, both the worshipping of it as well as the beating myself up for it, and letting go of the need to know what I could’ve done or what on earth I will do now. I write to heal.

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3 thoughts on “The things you can tell by looking at her.”

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