MOUNTAINS

The Other Side of my Mountain

A journey of healing

When I first read this prompt by Dr. Preeti, it conjured images of mountain ranges steeped high above deep valleys.

Many years ago, mountains grew into a much deeper meaning for me. Now they remind me of the struggles I have overcome and the obstacles I have surpassed. They remind me of the danger I fled as I sought safety, solace, and rest for my soul.

I was twenty-three years old when I first moved to the mountains of Kingston, New York. Until that point, I had lived my entire life on flat land surrounded by the swamps and bayous of Louisiana. I had lived my whole life below sea level, and below par in many ways.

The Valley

It’s a tale as old as time, really. Girl meets boy. Boy turns out to be filled with violent rage. Boy attempts to take girl’s life and almost succeeds. Almost. The system lets girl down. Girl flees for her life to another state on the other side of the country. Girl leaves old life behind and begins a new one.

My life seemed to be falling apart. I was held hostage in my home for three days by my ex-boyfriend and tortured the entire time. He burned my cat alive and made me watch. He beat me, burned me, and put a pillow over my face until he thought I was dead. When I woke, I had a choice to make. Fight or die. I chose to fight. I escaped.

I had missed three days of work. There was a voicemail from my boss threatening to fire me. The thought never entered anyone’s mind that I was in danger. It was odd because I had never once been late to work and I had been a very responsible nurse. That just goes to show you, business is business. I had the police explain the situation and I had hospital records, so I wasn’t fired.

The following week, I was released from the hospital and my brother came to visit me at my house. Unfortunately, he was beginning to show manifestations of schizophrenia. My brother dragged me out of my house into the middle of the street, because he thought he was protecting me. He heard voices telling him I was in danger.

As a result, I missed my first night scheduled to be back at work because I was in the hospital again. This time I was able to call my boss. I thought there was no way they were going to believe this. I hardly believed it myself. But my job was surprisingly understanding, probably because I allowed them to speak to the paramedics and the police at the scene.

My brother was sent to a psychiatric specialty hospital an hour from where I live. I spent the following weeks working sixteen-hour shifts every day to make up for time off work. When I left work each day, I drove to visit my brother and conference with his doctors.

I was living on fumes with very little sleep. I didn’t want to sleep, because the nightmares were too real. PTSD was too real. I constantly looked over my shoulder. My ex-boyfriend broke into my home multiple times and stalked me. It was a monotonous cycle of him getting arrested and his parents bailing him out while awaiting trial.

Exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe what I felt during that time. I felt humiliated because I had a noticeable limp, facial bruising, and swelling that was too much to cover with makeup, although I tried. Everyone at work knew what had happened. I had lost hearing in my left ear. I felt more like a patient than a nurse and despised being perceived as a victim.

I had trouble using my stethoscope. I tried but struggled to do the job of a nurse. After listening to a patient’s lung sounds three times, I was finally able to hear them distinctly, but it was understandably frustrating to the patient. She yelled, “What’s taking you so long? Are you deaf!” I apologized. I excused myself to the restroom and cried my eyes out, feeling hopeless and defeated.

This prompt isn’t about valleys. It’s about mountains. I said all I’ve said so far because you can’t understand a person’s mountain peak unless you first understand their valley.

Shadows Begin to Lift

Finally light began to fill the shadows of my valley.

I received a phone call from the owner of the facility where I worked. He told me the entire administration had been fired and that I would be promoted to Assistant Director of Nurses.

My brother moved in with my parents and began receiving the treatment he needed. His mental health stabilized enough for him to live at home.

My ex-boyfriend went to jail.

I had PTSD and continued to feel unsafe. I would awaken to nightmares all throughout the night. There were too many memories, too many triggers. I needed a change. I stared out my window with tear-filled eyes, crying out to God to show me a better way. I searched the clouds for any sign of the sun.

A Better Path up the Mountain

I accepted a travel nurse position working on a Med Surge unit at Benedictine Hospital in Kingston, New York. I eventually accepted a second assignment at this same hospital in the acute psychiatric ward.

Initially, I was met with disdain by other staff members with an exception of the psychiatrist and administrative staff. There was a severe nursing shortage, which meant travel nurses, such as myself, were paid higher wages and granted better benefits.

It was my dream job. I was given an apartment and all living expenses were paid. It was understandable why the nurses would be unwelcoming. I never discussed salary or benefits with anyone as a general rule. Someone in the administration leaked the information. I can’t say I blame the nurses. They were right. It wasn’t fair. But I didn’t question it, because it was what I felt I needed at the time. I had medical bills and my ex-boyfriend had stolen my savings. I needed to be there at that hospital nestled in the peaceful mountains. I needed to climb my mountain.

As the days progressed, I healed and the other nurses warmed up to me. They took me in as one of their own. A little kindness and hard work go a long way. I began to thrive amongst my new team of nurses and psychiatrists. I fell in love with that job. I loved counseling patients and doing my part to help other people heal. My contract didn’t permit me to accept their offer to stay permanently.

I spent my time off work exploring and hiking the surrounding mountains. I meditated and prayed in silence with only the sounds of nature to heal me. My nightmares dwindled until they finally disappeared. I stopped looking over my shoulder. Life was spread wide open before me to explore and live to the fullest.

Scaling my Mountain

I returned home to Louisiana after a few short years, fully healed and fully alive. I met someone and was soon married.

Fast forward twelve years later… I walked out to my driveway and a truck was waiting. My ex-boyfriend stepped out. I approached him, looked him dead in the eye, and told him I wasn’t afraid of him. I called my husband and the police.

At that moment I had not a single trace of fear. I was bold, as though the shackles had been released. Courage resonated in my voice and in my stance, as I told him to leave. He left. I knew I had been healed.

Fast forward several more years… He was put into an institution for the criminally insane, where he committed suicide.

Since today is Halloween, I can’t help but notice some similarities between Michael from the movie, “Halloween” and my own life. I thought the Boogie Man was gone until he returned. I wondered if I could ever live my life in peace. How many times would the Boogie Man return?

Finally, the Boogie Man was dead.

I’ve forgiven him. I’m not the type to rejoice in someone’s suffering or demise. I’ve moved on. I have climbed to the top of my mountain and I will not look back. I will look to the future and climb to new heights.

Reaching my Plateau

Words can’t describe what I felt all those years ago when I first looked upon those mountains. I was climbing towards a new job, a new home, and a new life. It wasn’t the first time I had seen mountains. But it was the first time they had brought me such a deep sense of safety, comfort, and shelter.

I somehow knew the quality of my life would rise to meet those mountains. I knew all I had to do was keep climbing, continue striving, praying, and trusting God. As long as I didn’t give up, someday I would stand upon the mountain peak.

I am on the other side of many mountains now. Life is filled with many more to climb. When I’m in a dark valley, I remember that I have witnessed many plateaus rising beyond deep valleys.

When I feel myself slipping, I hold on to my rope of hope. I’m strengthened by remembrances of the mountains I’ve already climbed. This gives me endurance for the next mountain.

Now I extend my hand to those in need. I offer compassion, encouragement, an understanding ear, and a heart filled with hope for anyone who needs it.

In 2011, I sat on a mountaintop in Taormina Sicily, Italy. The site was above an old sacred church. I looked down upon all I had overcome in life. I saw vague memories that had settled into valleys of hope.

That day, I stood high upon my mountain and I knew I was finally free.

Mia Verita, 2022

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

Thank you for reading.

This has been my response to The Beauty of the Majestic Mountains prompt. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I invite other writers here to share what mountains mean to you.

This song by The Little River Band is about water, but it’s precisely how I feel about my time away in the mountains.

Thank you to all the hard-working editors of Reciprocal, Dr. Preeti Singh, Sahil Patel, and Yana Bostongirl, for hosting this story.

Thank you, Dr. Preeti, for this inspiring prompt.

Here are a few other responses to this prompt that I found inspiring.

Leonard Tillerman shared this inspiring heartfelt story.

Monoreena Acharjee Majumdar shared this story I really enjoyed.

Mia Verita is on the other side of many mountains. She enjoys sharing her story to encourage others. She enjoys photography, sketching, writing poetry, and sharing inspirational stories.

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