A Soft Place To Rest

I called her in absolute desperation.

I try to consider calling on God, but in the moment, when the pain is so cellular, I call her.

I am laying prone on the floor, cell phone pressed painfully tight and surprisingly hot to my ear, alternating sobbing huge hiccupy gasping sobs with monosyllabic grunty acknowledgements of her words so she knows I am listening, knows I am breathing, knows I am "here".

These are things she says to me, words that illuminate my dark bitter dumping ground of emotional agony:

~ your kids? They are good people!

~ you don't have money for that tuition for him? But you give So. Much. More. than any amount of money...

~ you have ethic and morals, you give 110%!

~ I know who you ARE. I was there! I saw you...

~ you are understanding, compassionate, you have so much self-worth!

~ I will always remind you, of what a good person you are, what a good mom you are, I KNOW you, you listen to ME!

A friend like her? A friend for close to 15 years? She is worth, as a famous 'book' is known for saying, far more than rubies or Gold... This friend has sat with me in sorrow and grief, held me like a child in her arms and let me scream out my unfathomable pain.  She has seen me broken and destroyed, and seen me rising from the ashes, and seen me somewhat nearly whole, complete, crossed to the other side.  So when she tells me that I am good, that I am strong, right, validated, believed, accepted, NORMAL,  I have to believe her.  

I slide into sleep this night with acid tears sliding from my eyes, trailing the contours of my face from my eye to my temples and leaving silvered trails of anguish reaching into my hairline.

As I weep, I hear her voice: I will remind you...  And I want to say this: oh Holy Spirit thank you for this friend of mine, thank you for your very presence in her voice tonight.  I am saved because of her.

There is a story here...

He keeps trying to write in the sand but the waves slide relentlessly over his work and erase his efforts.   Randomly he gets one word done and snaps a picture.   I watch him in sidelong glances from where I am sitting in the sand several feet above the tentacles of the highest wave.

In between glances, I gaze out into the wide, wild, endless Hawaiian ocean spreading before me and I try to breathe away the last 7 years of stress.

I see him again, this time trying to pose and take a selfie in front of his word but the waves comes and wash it away and also gets his butt wet.   He writes "Marry Me" in the sand, over and over and over again but the tide keeps washing it away, and finally when he gets it done and poses, the water just comes right up and drenches him.   I wonder if this is an omen?

I choose this moment to leap up and run a few feet closer to the tide line.   I scrawl my own word with a fierce defiant pressure, using my index finger and hurrying before the next wave comes.   I write, "REGRET".

I am left waiting, wave after wave, for the ocean to come and claim my regret, to take it away from me, to erase it.   I wait far longer than I thought I would, much longer than Mr. Marry Me, but when a wave finally does break high enough and come rushing toward my word, it only erases a portion of it.

There is a story here I'm sure...

Regret

Regret tastes like foamy Guiness Stout; coffee on the hot plate too many hours; long expired milk.

Regret smells like plastic melting in a campfire; sweaty gym clothes forgotten in the trunk of a car; dogshit on your shoe.

Regret feels like accidentally brushing against stinging nettles; the stitch in your side from running too far, too hard; an invisible eyelash in your eye.

Regret looks like a forgotten sock, buried in dust bunnies, underneath the couch; a shopping cart full of toilet paper, coffee, wine, and lean cuisine; the star filled night sky - as endless as...regret.

Rejected

I failed.

I knew it would happen and steeled myself for it as best I could, but that rejection still managed to hurt like heck - and all the other feelings that go with the pain: fear, disappointment, shame, and even plain irritation.  If only I had navigated the situation a little better from the beginning!  Driving away from the inspection station with that bold red rejection sticker on my windshield had me cringing behind the wheel all the way to work... What? You thought I was talking about something else?

C'mon universe, I could use some protective energies here while I'm waiting for my repair appointment next week - I really really really don't need a ticket OR a towing/impounding bill!  I need grace... Just a smidge will do - thanks in advance! 

Contagious behavior

Everyday I ride a shuttle from a parking lot into my work.  Typically it's the same core group of people depending on who's late or early.  Since I sit at the front of the shuttle, it's become my habit after getting to work and trekking to the door from the drop site to swipe my badge to open the secure door and then just hold it open and let others go inside first.  Most people smile and say thanks, but there are two in particular who now, after months of this, try to take the door or encourage me to go ahead if them.  I smile and say, "it's ok, it's a good way to start the day by being nice to others!"  Occasionally one of them will GRAB the door and push me in, in a silly way, and we laugh and then I open the second door and usher them ahead of me. Ha!

Today, we got off the shuttle, the core four of us, and I am not joking here, the same two ladies RAN (in their dressy shoes and coats and carrying their pocketbooks and lunch sacs!) ahead to open the door! Funniest thing I've ever seen and I was laughing as I walked thru the door ahead of them.  But as we all went our separate ways, one sweet lady said, "it's contagious behavior, being nice to people..."

Yes, yes it is, and I intend to spread that stuff everywhere!

All the "feels"

I'm here!

It's me, waving in the dark...

I have all the hugs you need!

I am so broken tonight - just devastated, completely crushed...

Oh God, it hurts too much, too much, too much!

I'm sorry, it's not your fault baby, it's just how it is, our life, and none of it is your fault.

I will get up again in the morning, smiling, but tonight can't end quick enough!

I love you Cuz...

Those are all things I've said in the last few hours of this day - this Spring day - this endless God-forsaken day.  And they are all things I've said before, and will likely say again - but all of them? At once? On the same day? In that same order? God, please, not another day like this one, please...

Oh, well, yeah, I've said THAT before too.

It's time for a change I think...maybe time to embrace these kinds of days for what they are and what changes they bring  and what benefits they have...time to spring forward instead of springing back in fear...time to see what GOOD lies ahead in the midst of surprise and fear and sorrow.

Time to feel it - all those "feels"... And then to actually do something about it.  We DO have time for that.  We do.

Dear Momma

Tonight I miss you.  I miss you often, of course, and at certain times I miss you more than others, but tonight I am desperate for you.  

I wish that I could pick up the phone and just talk, cry, hear your voice soothing me, get your advice and encouragement, your love.  You've been gone for 20 years now, and I need you more than ever.

I don't know what I'm doing, momma.  You've done all of this before so tell me what to do now... You were gone before I ever knew I'd need you for this.  I don't know how to stop, back up, start over - I don't know how to go forward, to step out and believe that it will all be ok in the end.  I don't know how to go on... 

I imagine us sitting together, cups of creamy steamy coffee in front of us, you with a cigarette dangling from your fingers and a circle of smoke floating above you.  I see us at my kitchen table and the sun coming in thru the French doors and warming us.  (But, really, would you smoke in my house?) The dog will be in your lap, the baby will be in mine, and I will cry into his wispy hair.  You will stub out your cigarette and blow smoke off to the side (mom! Are you smoking near my baby?) as you reach out to grab my hand and hold it. I feel your dry skin, your firm grip, and I draw strength from you.  Maybe if I imagine it enough, I can pull some measure of strength from my imagination into this mess I so badly need you here for.

Be with me, but more than that, be with my son.  Whisper into your grandsons heart, be the voice in his head  that I can't be, be the lifeline he needs in my place - he won't listen to me, he won't hear me, and I'm so afraid of losing him.  Help him, momma, please... He won't let me.  I don't know how to be his momma, but you did it for two boys so surely you have the insight I need. 

I love you momma... I miss you...