My life turned upside down on October 24th. I haven't written much since then, even though I've been asked to, even though I've wanted to, even though my soul has been longing to.
The nightmarish fog of my family losing three young, beautiful souls over the course of six days hasn't lifted. I've been told it won't for a very long time.
I think of them all the time. When the sun comes up; when a breeze lifts a strand of hair out of my face; when a young child does something extremely silly and ridiculous; most especially when I surround myself with music and those who I love.
One particular song that I've played over and over again this summer is "Thin Line" by My Morning Jacket. It came out right as I decided to head into the online dating world again. I don't know why I signed up again. I was no where ready for that or looking to bring anyone into my grief. I simply wanted to meet people, hear others' stories and ignore tragedy like an old teddy bear left at home by a college student. I played this song, over, and over, and over again, reminding myself about my own reality, of not being able to reciprocate love, of wasting other people's time.
But I fell for someone. Carefully. Slowly.
I often reminded myself of last year, when falling in love nonsensically led to non-commitment on the other person's part. Reason whispered into my ear that nothing would last. That loss would come.
I prayed for guidance. I asked my brother for signs. I asked my Mom-Mom if she thought this guy was a good catch.
The signs came, but maybe I confused what they all meant. Maybe the signs told me "Yes, go for it!" simply so I could start to love again during such an intense, heartbreaking time.
I began to shake fear's grip. I let go of comparing previous experiences' outcomes to the present's future. I began to let my heart beat to its own drum.
I'm not looking for pity, empathy, or condolences. I'm writing this to spread the love, to get people to speak up when their hearts tell them to. To commit their entire soul to what the heart wants, not what society deems smart, or reasonable, or the right or wrong choice at this or that age. To love oneself, truly and deeply.
Go for something because you're terrified of the outcome. That's the only way we learn.
He left for a long vacation far away. I don't know if I'll see him again when he gets back. I don't know if he'll win his battle against his own fears.
But what I do know is that each risk is worth taking, each leap of faith worth the terror. I wrote the following before he boarded his plane.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed to follow my brother's advice. "Live, live, live. Love, love, love."
-------------
What I see is two people in love but afraid of where it will take them... too focused on fear.
But failure isn't known to a character as they make their way through a storyline.
And a character's storyline doesn't have a guaranteed number of pages or even lines for that matter.
If you never try something, you'll never know if it's worth doing.
And looking back, I wouldn't have changed any of my life's history, even those points that led to failure or heartache or a ridiculous deportation situation, because they made me into who I am today, and I couldn't be happier with how I've handled them and who I've become as a result of those terrifying, gut wrenching, mind blowing at the time moments. If I've learned anything in 27 years, it's that fear and regret are your worst enemies when it comes to decisions and living life.
The nightmarish fog of my family losing three young, beautiful souls over the course of six days hasn't lifted. I've been told it won't for a very long time.
I think of them all the time. When the sun comes up; when a breeze lifts a strand of hair out of my face; when a young child does something extremely silly and ridiculous; most especially when I surround myself with music and those who I love.
One particular song that I've played over and over again this summer is "Thin Line" by My Morning Jacket. It came out right as I decided to head into the online dating world again. I don't know why I signed up again. I was no where ready for that or looking to bring anyone into my grief. I simply wanted to meet people, hear others' stories and ignore tragedy like an old teddy bear left at home by a college student. I played this song, over, and over, and over again, reminding myself about my own reality, of not being able to reciprocate love, of wasting other people's time.
But I fell for someone. Carefully. Slowly.
I often reminded myself of last year, when falling in love nonsensically led to non-commitment on the other person's part. Reason whispered into my ear that nothing would last. That loss would come.
I prayed for guidance. I asked my brother for signs. I asked my Mom-Mom if she thought this guy was a good catch.
The signs came, but maybe I confused what they all meant. Maybe the signs told me "Yes, go for it!" simply so I could start to love again during such an intense, heartbreaking time.
I began to shake fear's grip. I let go of comparing previous experiences' outcomes to the present's future. I began to let my heart beat to its own drum.
I'm not looking for pity, empathy, or condolences. I'm writing this to spread the love, to get people to speak up when their hearts tell them to. To commit their entire soul to what the heart wants, not what society deems smart, or reasonable, or the right or wrong choice at this or that age. To love oneself, truly and deeply.
Go for something because you're terrified of the outcome. That's the only way we learn.
He left for a long vacation far away. I don't know if I'll see him again when he gets back. I don't know if he'll win his battle against his own fears.
But what I do know is that each risk is worth taking, each leap of faith worth the terror. I wrote the following before he boarded his plane.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed to follow my brother's advice. "Live, live, live. Love, love, love."
-------------
What I see is two people in love but afraid of where it will take them... too focused on fear.
Fear is a sneaky bastard. he creeps up on you when you feel the highest, changing colors like a chameleon to get under your skin, making you doubt yourself and preventing you from acting on what you truly want.
But failure isn't known to a character as they make their way through a storyline.
And a character's storyline doesn't have a guaranteed number of pages or even lines for that matter.
If you never try something, you'll never know if it's worth doing.
The only things we can keep present from the past are the lessons that will continue to guide us through life. Failures are to be acknowledged and tucked away, to be referenced but not dwelled upon. Successes have been built upon and are most often a direct result of a failure or mistake.
And looking back, I wouldn't have changed any of my life's history, even those points that led to failure or heartache or a ridiculous deportation situation, because they made me into who I am today, and I couldn't be happier with how I've handled them and who I've become as a result of those terrifying, gut wrenching, mind blowing at the time moments. If I've learned anything in 27 years, it's that fear and regret are your worst enemies when it comes to decisions and living life.
