Remember that time when I got all tangled up and lost? I was so broken, so lonesome and brimming over with fear, I really believed it would NEVER get better.
Or that time I was a half way lesbian. Remember that? Whoa. I had a Swiss Army pocket knife and I did kiss a girl but I didn’t like it. I tried yet one more thing to make me feel different, better, accepted.
Remember that time I wanted to run my car off the bridge? I thought the only way to fix this would be offing myself. I was too much. Too sensitive. Too loud. Too indecisive. Too wild. Too late to be the person I knew was hiding deep inside. I was 23. I felt 93.
Remember that time I lost my first baby? Two days before Thanksgiving 2008. I listened intently, sure I’d hear the hyper thudding of a tiny fetus. Silence pierced my ears. So I pierced my lip and got drunk. I called it “crafting.” My still-lonesome heart was broken. She/he was the second person I felt remotely close to at that time in my life. I didn’t know if I’d ever get better.. or sober.
Remember that spring when my Husband was diagnosed with cancer. We were newly weds pondering our death do us part, parts. He had surgery and chemo therapy and I was all shaky and trying to pull it together? I rode my bike and chained smoked. A riding contradiction. Such is life. Beauty smeared into pain, darkness with cracks of sunshine. It turned out to be too much for me. I bailed the day after his last chemo therapy. I BAILED. I got drunk a lot. The guilt from this carried over for many years. And honestly somedays I still shake my head at that scared ill equipped girl.. How could you?! I think. then I remember, shaming children doesn’t actually work. I hug her on the inside. I butter his toast and pour his coffee. I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do.
Remember that time we bought our first house and brought our newborn baby son, Otto Liam home? He was two months old when Eric was laid off from his job. What was sure to be a devastation became one of the happiest times in my life.. I was sober. Broke. And complete. I was a Mom. And a dang good cook. Eventually I got a job and Eric’s book was published. And on paper we should’ve never made it work. And it did anyways.
Remember that time I had a baby with an extra chromosome? He was so tiny and cute and full of holes in his heart. And when he was one they wanted to fix all that. So I gave my baby to them. I turned him over and I really had no guarantees at all that he’d be back again. And when I did get him back I couldn’t hold him. They sent us home with a baby who couldn’t be held. It nearly killed me. I wanted a drink. And I definitely needed to smoke. Mostly I needed to cry a lot. And scream in the car. And call my friends. And go to meetings. So :I did. God took all of it as prayer, the screaming the crying, the begging for different circumstances. Hobbs’s heart healed. We broke through the mirage. There is no such thing as normal. Only happy as one can possibly be given the tools we are working with just for today.
Remember that time I was suffering from post pardom with three kids at home and a smile to fake out the best of them? I was sitting on the outside of this beautiful snow globe life watching all the magic happening on the inside, almost wanting to climb in but left to tapping on the glass, waving like a spectator on the other side of life’s window. I was ashamed for being sad when Life was obviously so so good to me. How could I be blessed and miserable all at once?
The point to all of this is to remember, to KNOW that it will change. That this too, shall pass. (big fan of one liner cliche’s right here.) That soon circumstances will change again and I’ll be more awake. I’m struggling today to make sense of a nonsensical world. My timing, in my opinion is wayyyyyy better than ol’ what’s His face. If only it were up to me: I’d have our house sold, all of our bills paid off and paid ahead and a $1,000 Starbucks gift card made out to myself. As it is though, I have only enough. And really THAT IS enough, just for today.