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Enough
The 29th was my 44th birthday. It was unlike any other.
Other than the fact that I spent it alone after work, I just felt different.
Okay, if I’m being fair, the quiet house and the importance, to me, of the special post I wrote that night was a pretty awesome way to spend my birthday.
Up until this year though, it seemed no matter how many birthdays I’ve had, I always experienced that twinge of excitement either the night before or morning of.
That warm, fuzzy, childlike moment when your head tells you “It’s my birthday!”
Not this year.
I’m glad I was born, don’t get me wrong. And I am grateful for life every day.
Flashback time … gather ’round. Little story for you.
When I was 9 or 10, and living in England, I had a rather complicated appendectomy. It resulted in staying in hospital longer than the other children. They went home minus their appendix and I waved goodbye, wishing I was going home too.
My poor (now 40-year-old) Teddy had to have an appendectomy too. I performed it. We had to match 😉
A while after that surgery, (and after I finally got to go home) I became very ill. I was misdiagnosed with gastric flu.
I got sicker.
My mum, deciding it was ridiculous that I could not even keep a drop of water down, walked me to the doctor. (Yes, we walked. We didn’t have a car, we walked everywhere.)
When she got me inside the practice, the doctor took one look at me and said something along the lines of “Oh God, she’s in trouble.”
An ambulance was called.
I remember being very aware of my surroundings. I was so excited to be in the ambulance! It was my first time after all! I remember chattering on and on to the doctors and nurses when we arrived at the hospital.
My mum had promised me I could have Ribena (A blackcurrant drink in the UK) I specifically recall telling them this as they wheeled me down a hall on a gurney.
I also remember wondering why they didn’t seem to care! LOL!
Their faces were serious and they were in a hurry.
Turns out, scar tissue from my mucked up appendectomy had grown around my intestines, resulting in strangulation.
Also turns out, due to dehydration and the seriousness of the diagnosis, had my mother not brought me in, I would have had died within half an hour.
I lived. (Obviously. That always cracks me up, when someone is telling a serious story and it gets to a dangerous and life threatening part and the listener, with wide eyes, asks, “Did you make it??”)
The surgery was a success. I recall the doctor telling me that he cut me so that I could wear a bikini and the scar wouldn’t show. (Dude! I’m 10!)
I used to hate that scar! I even got my belly button pierced years ago so that the jewelry would be the first thing I noticed while looking at my naked body, instead of the scar.
I still rock the piercing, but I look in wonderment and respect today at my scar, my reminder of how near to death I was.
Then came the partying. SO much partying. I treated my body like a carnival for a while. Albeit a carnival in a bad part of town with really crappy rides … but a carnival none the less. (Debauchery Soup people, Debauchery Soup.)
I lived.
Ever wonder why? “Why am I here?”
I have throughout the years pondered that question.
Was I spared for Nicholas to be born? Is he to be someone great?
Obviously as his mother I can tell you he already is someone great, but you know what I mean.
Like a Terminator type ‘great’ – “He will save the world in the future! So you shall live to bear this child!”
That kind of great.
On a serious note, a friend of mine lost her partner the other day – whenever I would call her to chat, or get advice, I could hear him in the background saying “Tell her she’s enough!”
Tonight my friend Samantha had posted on her wall: “People who tell you how to be a better person, offer advice, point you to their path or try to fix you, don’t realize that they are already enough.”
I liked that.
I like the thought that everyone is right where they are meant to be. And not only am I enough, but so are they. Just as they are.
(And if no one has told you today, “You are enough. And you are loved.”)
Lately I’ve been feeling like more than enough. I’m filled with a magical, mystical sense of hope and life.
I feel every experience I have had in these 44 years is soon to reveal a purpose. A destiny. A bell has been rung.
And thank God I’m ready for that! Because I am so very grateful for everything I already have. I do not want for anything. I have shelter, food, family, friends.
I have passions and causes.
Dreams and desires.
Yes, something has been awakened in me.
It truly has been a week of birth.
There is such good …
I find myself from time to time almost pleading Earths case to God.
I’ll share with you my nightly prayers. I always say “Thank you.” I always end with “God bless all those in my heart, on my mind and in the world, Amen.”
The meat of my prayers is usually me asking for guidance – praying for strength in areas I’m lacking.
Sometimes I pray for more patience, the increased ability to love – to be tolerant. I pray to know which path I should be taking.
When it’s a particularly sad news day though, when atrocities have been committed and we’re made aware of them – I don my humankind legal defense cap.
As if God doesn’t already know, I plead “God, there is such GOOD in the world too.” As if I’m afraid he’s going to shut the whole event down because of evil.
I have a favorite quote, by W.H. Auden.
“Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table …”
I love that quote. I love how the words feel coming out of my mouth – how the thought provokes – the simple eloquence of it.
And it, for me, is truth.
I watched a documentary this morning called “Hitlers Children.” (If you have Netflix, it’s a streamable selection. )
One particular storyline resonated with me.
It was that of Rainer Hoess – grandson of Rudolf Hoess.
He looked at photographs of his father standing in the garden of the family home on the grounds of Auschwitz. Other photos showed his grandfather in that same back yard.
Later in the documentary, he took a trip to Auschwitz – his first one.
One of the questions he pondered, while staring at a photo of his father standing by the garden gate was, how could they not have known – not have seen?
He was afforded entry into that same garden and stood at that very garden gate. The house was cleverly designed with no views of the crematorium – textured glass windows on the side of the house that might let some truth in.
The garden itself was surrounded by tall walls, offering only a glimpse of outlying buildings.
I wondered what it must have felt like to stand in that location. To know that your lineage included a monster. I didn’t need to wonder for long – when Rainer lost his composure, I did too. I wept on the couch with this man who was riddled with guilt for a crime against humanity that he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with.
During the tour, he agreed to speak to a group. He was nervous – understandably. At one point, a holocaust survivor, from that camp, wanted to shake his hand.
My already wet cheeks were wet anew when this old man took his hand and told him, ‘you didn’t do this.’
They hugged and my heart wanted to burst.
There is good.
There is good everywhere if you look for it – take time to avert your eyes from your problems and worries and choose to see it!
On a personal note, I have a friend, who takes care of not only her grandchildren – but her bed ridden mother and her disabled brother and reached out to ME to offer ME help to send my son to England! She is the epitome of selflessness to me.
She smiles and though she gets tired, she’s happy and grateful and is of service to others.
GOD! There is SUCH good.
I’ll be praying tonight to be a part of that good.
Graduation
I drove away from the event center last night where my son had just graduated, alone.
I had a Gwen Stefani CD in the CD player and I felt a shift as the coin of acceptance dropped and I belted out “Ain’t no Hollaback Girl” along with Gwen.
Everything felt just … right.
Nic left the event with his girlfriend, my parents left together and I left with a smile on my face.
I have been so scared of the rapid changes in the dynamics of my relationship with Nic this past year! I needn’t have been.
Here I was worrying about where I would fit in his life. Here (Literally right here) I was worrying whether or not I’d done enough for him – done the right things by him.
Then, in the parking lot right after graduation, he picked my mom up in a hug and then shook my dads hand, and POOF! The worry dissipated.
I mentally dusted my hands with a ‘well, that’s-that then’ resolve, and a peace settled in.
It was sort of like hearing your little one say “thank you” without being prompted for the first time, or seeing them hold the door open for someone (Okay, I still feel a surge of pride when he does those things.)
In a single moment, I glimpsed Nic, the young man, and I was simultaneously proud of him and awash with an odd sensation of freedom. Freedom from worry.
When I got home, (after uploading a bazillion photos to my ipad and managing to blow my icloud memory out of the sky) I had a little time alone to reflect.
And in reflecting I was SO grateful!
I thought about all the people who had a hand, directly or indirectly, in raising my son with me.
Yes, I’m a single mom, but a whole slew of people have been instrumental in the successful rearing of my child. (And now I’m cracking up thinking of the quote from ‘Knocked Up’: Jay: I’m going to be there to rear your child. Jason: You hear that, Ben? Don’t let him near the kid, he wants to rear your child!)
I was completely filled with appreciation and memories. Gratitude and love.
I wanted to thank every single person individually. There are people who don’t even realize how much of an impact they had on my journey as a mom.
So I try to tell people who touch my life that they have. I try to remember to thank and acknowledge the people I love, the people who love me back – and the people who love Nic.
And in that moment, when Nic had my mother in his arms – and my dads hand in his – I knew he was doing the same thing.
I had become …
Comfortably numb.
This will be a serious post.
Over 9000 people have read my words. 9000 people have in essence, read my diary.
I’m undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts. Still safe in my cocoon, but allowing myself to grow and change and take one of the dead bolts off of a door of opportunity.
I imagine I’ll emerge with fragile wings – still clinging to the husk that was my safe place for so long.
I’ll be still – and feel the winds of change around me and know that they are making me stronger – drying those wings.
I’ve been deep in thought, in my cocoon. Contemplating, pondering, analyzing, processing. This is how I do things. I do not chide myself for this.
After years of foolish abandon, how can I not believe this to be growth?
I processed Nic growing from child to man – you were there with me. Thank you.
I processed my past to some relief – you were there with me. Thank you.
Is it any wonder my profession is that of Processor? Funny, I hadn’t thought about that until just now.
I take information given to me and make sense of it. Turn it into something real – affording customers I come to adore a home.
I make it personal.
I make it personal … at work, with strangers that become friends.
Yet I still struggle with taking my personal life to another level.
I joke about becoming a cat lady – but really, I was going to be okay with that.
I had become, comfortably numb.
But, I’ve been listening to music lately. Not the radio. But, deep immersion – head phones, staring up at the night sky – feeling as though I’m on the prespicice of something. An awakening.
My heart swells and my soul warms my shell.
A new chapter is perhaps ready to be written.
And if you’re here with me – thank you.
Today was a beautiful day
Debauchery Soup 