What we're trying to do is change course. We're trying to do everything different in a world where circumstances still fall apart, where opportunities fade, where hopes are blasted. We're trying to learn control not of circumstance but of our own mind. We're trying to keep the head up, the eye bright. We're also trying to live out the idea that some things are not important--that they cannot, should not, be worried about, even if the indeterminacy is frightening. We're trying to find love and laughter where it is, rather than trying to wrest it from life as a kind of payment. We're trying to find the positive side of the phrase "good enough," which is another way of saying we're learning to find contentment.
Nothing is perfect. Nothing has changed. And yet, everything has changed, in me, at least for now. I'm not a Pollyanna--there's no getting rid of this--but I know enough to mindfully enjoy what I'm experiencing here & now.
Thanks to my loved ones near & far for holding on for me. I hope not to have to call on your assistance again. Thanks to those who hosted me away from home, giving me space to be in my moment. Thanks to those who came to talk to me, regularly, faithfully, when I felt alone even in front of scores of students. Thanks to those who traded Facebook, Twitter, email, and chat messages with me, who sent me songs & lyrics & poems & books & jokes, who commented on my blog & let me know someone was reading. Thanks to my family especially, who had to endure the worst, who were most terrified--but who held me up and lent me just enough strength to avoid the dark archway.
So much of life is a mystery--why we do the things we do, why calamity and misfortune strikes when & how it does. I'm not sure about Providence. But I do know that you, the ones I hold closest to my heart, saved my life.
(Hamlet & I were speaking the same language)
From here on out, I'm not going to spend as much time, if any, on my Condition. We all know it's there, at least potentially. Instead, I'm going to spend time on what the now brings, what is coming up, and (if I can get my act together) happy memories from Manila, and happy pictures from the present. We do have a Little Boy and a Little Red, after all. So, we hereby close the book on 2008, The Year I Almost Died, and turn instead to 2009, The Year of Learning to Live.
2 comments:
I am overwhelmed with the beauty of your words, your transparency and absolute honesty about the dark days and I am Thrilled to see your new self emerging. I am thrilled to see the joy in "one day at a time" and your ability to see the truly good and BEST things of life amidst the irritating, disappointing, and mundane. I am grateful to the little ones and the beautiful one who stood by you daily. I am glad it is a better time! We are ALWAYS on your side and in this process we have tried to learn the important lesson that all parents of adult children need to learn: DON'T PREACH! LOVE ALWAYS EVEN FROM AFAR.
Perhaps you don't even know I am here, we see each other very little and certainly don't correspond. But, Chris, your words today just give me such joy as I have been following your journey and praying for you faithfully. I hurt when my family hurts. I went through such a period in my life (believe it or not) and there is no explaining to others when you are in the midst of it. Your parents will remember tho' and even though my time was brought on by a particular circumstance, it was very real and very scary to everyone. Thank you for sharing your heart and thank you for such a wonderful start to this new year. I love you, Aunt Patsy
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