Life has a way of showing us exactly who’s boss, which can partially explain my absence from blogging. The other part is my full on ability to let laziness and procrastination take over my free time (being honest and admitting is always the first step, right?). I’ve had so many moments of ” You need to write” followed by “but look at our bed, its so lonely and cozy at the same time”. Any who, my bad.
I’m just at a point now where I can’t get any lower and no one can judge me any more harshly than I’ve already judged myself.
Even in the midst of the blogging silence I still managed to take a few trips, and although they will be a day late and a dollar short, I intend to post about them. But right now, I want to reflect a little on just how insanely screwy and beautiful life can really be. Because my life is nowhere near perfect and I’ve fucked up a time or two. Or three ( who doesn’t?). But my life is also ridiculously beautiful, although I’ve only recently realized its true beauty because I decided to stop dwelling on the mistakes I’ve made and the things that were and are still beyond my control. I’m just at a point now where I can’t get any lower and no one can judge me any more harshly than I’ve already judged myself.
Peace, love and happiness are my ultimate goals. I want to feel them at all times. Anxiety and depression have had their way with me since I was 8 years old. Since my mom died, I’ve been in and out of therapy the last 20 years or so. There’s no time table in dealing with grief and the byproducts that result from it. There just comes a point in life where you surrender. Not giving in to the negativity surrounding your life per se, but more so relinquishing control and trusting in God, the universe, a higher power or whatever you fancy.
I’m sitting here now, typing this with the deepest thoughts of my mother on my mind as well as the tiny, yet courageous person I was prior to her death. I’ll never forget the day I learned to ride a bike. I was sick and tired of being teased for still having training wheels on. I was probably the only 2nd grader who still had them. But truth be told, I was terrified of taking them off. Whenever my mother would bring up the idea, I would always picture myself riding down the street and teetering to one side and completely falling off. I hated pain and taking the training wheels off meant I was sure to wind up busting my ass with a gnarly bruise or scrape to show for it. So for months, I put it off. Then one day my mom said ” it’s time to learn to ride your bike”. We started about noon on a Saturday. I was jumpy and anxious. My dad had taken the trainers off earlier, so it was all or nothing. The first few laps in the drive way, she was right next to me, helping me keep my balance. I felt safe and comfortable. I slowly started to tell myself that maybe I could do it. Then she tried to let go and I freaked all the way out. We did this back and forth for about another two hours or so before she said ” well mama needs to rest for a bit. We can try again tomorrow, ok?”. But then I thought back to how the other kids would continue making fun of me and I got mad and even more frustrated. I told her “No. I’m gonna keep practicing”. So she nodded and walked back into the house.
The tears were flowing at this point ( because I’m THAT dramatic). The first time I fell, I scraped my knee up pretty good. And then I got even more frustrated because I fell several more times after that. It was quickly approaching dinner time at this point and my butt hurt from sitting on the seat so long. Then my mom walks out with a look of worry. “Alright baby, I’m proud of you but there’s always tomorrow, ok? It’s time to wash up for dinner” (The next summer would prove to me that there is not always tomorrow, as my mother passed away the first week of third grade). I was determined to ride that damn bike before the sun went down. I took off one more time out of the drive way and down the street. “Holy shit! I’m balancing!”. My mother was in the background yelling ” You got it baby, you got it!”. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as joyful as that. I rode back into the driveway and high-fived my mom. The next day, you couldn’t tell me shit. I rode and had stop sign races with the best of them. But I fought like hell for the opportunity to do so.
I’ll fight like hell for my happiness, no matter how many bumps or scrapes I get in the process.
Its so funny how we psych ourselves out of doing things. I put off dealing with so many painful bruises from my past, including poor decisions and judgements I placed on myself. The thought of inflicting more pain on myself by dealing with my past is what scared me the most, so I pushed it off and it snowballed into a path of even more fucked up decisions. But now, I’m tired of them replaying in my mind. Just like I was tired of being teased for using training wheels. And right now, I’ll fight like hell for my happiness, no matter how many bumps or scrapes I get in the process.
If you’re in the same boat, you should too.