I called my ex-sister in law today for her birthday and ended up speaking with her for a while about the Boston Marathon last weekend and the human interest stories that came out of it. Due to the weather, there were a lot of upsets and unexpected turn of events, and since she’s a runner, she follows those things more closely. It was interesting to hear about the girl who ended up winning—how she really planned on quitting and was simply trying to last as long as she could in order to help the girl she thought was going to win. At one point, the other girl stopped to go to the bathroom, so she slowed and paced to wait for her. What that ended up doing, however, was resting her legs! Something she really needed when she had been planning on quitting since she just didn’t feel her legs under her.
The weird parallel in this as I think about it, is that in a very real sense, I’m that girl. I am simply running for as long as I can in order to help maybe one or two people around me, but I don’t ‘feel my legs under me’ and I know I’m probably not going to finish and I’m definitely not going to win anything. But today, I took a time out from the battle and I called my ex-sister-in-law because I felt in my heart that it was important to tell her how much her life has meant to my life. And, it’s just dawning on me, that by doing this, I probably gained a lot more out of it than she did. I felt peace. I felt love. I felt understanding. Maybe even some closure. Healing.
Yesterday, a Southwest Airlines flight had engine failure and a woman was partially sucked out the window. The person next to her tried to pull her back in, but she unfortunately died. The plane took about 30 minutes to land, and in that time people were live-steaming, texting, etc., to their friends, family, and loved ones. Others were assisting their fellow passengers as they needed help. I imagined the scenario and I immediately knew which kind of person I would be. No doubt about it. Not that there’s anything wrong with either one. I hope my family would understand. I am a do-er. I would “do” to the very end if something NEEDED doing (I don’t do just to do, however; it has to need to be done for the good/benefit of someone else.)
Then tonight, I was scrolling through Instagram and I follow an account called “Miracles & Messes” and one post was a young, 20ish girl with cancer telling her story. She made the point to enjoy every second of life—every experience. Appreciate it and live it thoroughl—because she can’t. College. Dances. Athletics. Travel. Dating. Getting married. Having a baby. Etc., etc. And I thought - that is so true. Even though exhausting or hard or challenging or painful—it’s living life’s experiences! Things that some people never get the opportunity to do. So just be grateful.
Lastly, also on Instagram, the British Red Cross posted a picture of two old ladies dancing. The explanation was that one lady who was 90 years old apparently had been feeling depressed since the passing of her husband, so the other lady took her dancing since that was one of her favorite pastimes in her younger years. They were in each other’s arms as if they were any other couple. And it hit me...love doesn’t have boundaries. Or limits. Or colors. Or walls. Or languages. Love IS love. That picture will stay with me forever. In fact, I hope to print a copy and frame it to remind me of everything that it represents.
And so I will try to walk with a more grateful heart. To love more. To BE more.
I got in my car after work today with the thought of stopping by and seeing my parents since I haven’t seen them in a couple of weeks due to their trip (my brother’s wedding). But the longer I drove, the more I thought, and the more I thought, the more anxious and angry I became and I knew it would be better if I didn’t go. So I came straight home.
Yesterday was ‘national sibling day’. I am without siblings. I am without family. I am all alone.
Just now, as I couldn’t sleep, I thought about my end of life scenario—how it might play out. And the one I came up with was writing a note, getting a gun, going to an ER, stepping into the restroom, and blowing my brains out. Because I don’t have anyone who would take care of me. I need to end it while I am able.
I have such anger toward my family. Their denial. Their betrayal. Their abuse. Their looking-down. I simply have no desire to put myself anywhere near them. They are much happier without me there, as well.
Had a great Mom’s Weekend with #3 in Oklahoma! He was very sweet this weekend, and I enjoyed meeting his girlfriend, and hanging with his friends. Best smile—when he finally said yes to going to TJ Maxx with me!! It was a pure, sweet moment.
I really miss my children. It’s tough being a single empty-nester. It’s a whole different kind of empty.
I feel like I’m living a nightmare version of that poem ‘Footprints’ because I am alone, walking along a cold, distant shore, and there’s a wicked sandstorm blowing that erases my single footprints almost as quickly as I leave them. It’s as if Time is telling me I don’t matter.
I miss us. I miss the intimacy. I miss the friendship. I miss the trust I thought we had. Although—it stops there. Because my thoughts then go to where you might be and who you are probably with right now—and I feel the pain of what you did.
Betrayal is a constant companion in my life. I wish I could shake him.