2009-2013
I knew a lot of things, back before my brain died. Or went dormant. Before I learned to make myself satisfied, grew fat and happy, sometimes angry and lonely, but mostly happy. Before I had friends that say things like "you look like fall today." Before my heart grew. So big for one person that I could carry all the troubles, but still bumble and drop them. Then pick them up and carry them around again. Maybe I will never make a budget but I will always find you when you are lost.
Before I went away for a long time. Before it took distance for me to remember that my family isn't just a family. We are a clan (not the bad kind), brought together by an understanding of the world few people have. Five people. Six. Before people died and I had my soul ripped out with worry, then had to put it back together to keep being the strong one.
Before I learned to wait before worrying. To wait until the phone rang twice, which means an emergency, and when I pick it up, I say, "what what what" because I've been imagining the ending for so long that I think I will know what to say when it happens. But it hasn't happened yet, not really. And I don't know what to say.
Don't get me wrong, I know things now, more things. I am much older, somewhat wiser. Calmer. But sometimes I worry that older and wiser means that something is broken. That I've reached the point of cynicism where it's hard to get inspired because my shell is just so hard.
Then I stop, think about how much better I was.
But I was just different than I am now.
When I went away I started living a life that forced me out of the comfort that I flourish in and made me help people who were suffering. People whose pain I understand intimately, right next to people whose lives I can't imagine. The guy with lung cancer who has a brain injury, telling him more than once that he has cancer. Reminding him about the friend that died last year in the accident. Bringing presents for Christmas for the hilarious and charming kid whose mom can't always keep the lights on, or the heat. Giving advice to volunteers working with kids from horrible circumstances, broken families, disadvantage. Explaining how by showing up they were improving the future.
Both of those things happening at once was just too hard for me. I couldn't do both. I couldn't spend my heart protecting everyone I met and also build a meaningful life for myself. So I just lived. I survived. My brain died a little - my heart took all the oxygen. I lived in a tiny world I created for myself, and came home to a love that came with other burdens. Ones I wanted to carry but needed back-up for.
So I called home. Cried to my family, remembered that they are the ones who know me and will always carry me through. I made friends with them for the first time. True, best friends. I left behind all the pain and anger that had always pushed me ahead. I let my brain die a little for a while. I let myself be just my heart.
I am finally finding stability. It always takes me at least a year to adjust to a new life. I've had many, many new lives. But I know it took all that I've been to get me here, to this new edge I'm standing on.
I believe it's the same for all of us, really. Although we want to keep the world we started with, we all end up its the one we've got. We can go backward a bit, pull out our friends from the abyss of history, we've got to do that at least. But we are all always adjusting to the new world we see, and we have to move forward into the one we can't.
Before I went away for a long time. Before it took distance for me to remember that my family isn't just a family. We are a clan (not the bad kind), brought together by an understanding of the world few people have. Five people. Six. Before people died and I had my soul ripped out with worry, then had to put it back together to keep being the strong one.
Before I learned to wait before worrying. To wait until the phone rang twice, which means an emergency, and when I pick it up, I say, "what what what" because I've been imagining the ending for so long that I think I will know what to say when it happens. But it hasn't happened yet, not really. And I don't know what to say.
Don't get me wrong, I know things now, more things. I am much older, somewhat wiser. Calmer. But sometimes I worry that older and wiser means that something is broken. That I've reached the point of cynicism where it's hard to get inspired because my shell is just so hard.
Then I stop, think about how much better I was.
But I was just different than I am now.
When I went away I started living a life that forced me out of the comfort that I flourish in and made me help people who were suffering. People whose pain I understand intimately, right next to people whose lives I can't imagine. The guy with lung cancer who has a brain injury, telling him more than once that he has cancer. Reminding him about the friend that died last year in the accident. Bringing presents for Christmas for the hilarious and charming kid whose mom can't always keep the lights on, or the heat. Giving advice to volunteers working with kids from horrible circumstances, broken families, disadvantage. Explaining how by showing up they were improving the future.
Both of those things happening at once was just too hard for me. I couldn't do both. I couldn't spend my heart protecting everyone I met and also build a meaningful life for myself. So I just lived. I survived. My brain died a little - my heart took all the oxygen. I lived in a tiny world I created for myself, and came home to a love that came with other burdens. Ones I wanted to carry but needed back-up for.
So I called home. Cried to my family, remembered that they are the ones who know me and will always carry me through. I made friends with them for the first time. True, best friends. I left behind all the pain and anger that had always pushed me ahead. I let my brain die a little for a while. I let myself be just my heart.
I am finally finding stability. It always takes me at least a year to adjust to a new life. I've had many, many new lives. But I know it took all that I've been to get me here, to this new edge I'm standing on.
I believe it's the same for all of us, really. Although we want to keep the world we started with, we all end up its the one we've got. We can go backward a bit, pull out our friends from the abyss of history, we've got to do that at least. But we are all always adjusting to the new world we see, and we have to move forward into the one we can't.
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