|John 17:17“Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth.”
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Sunday Suspension of my Poblano Theme of “Personal Mottos” to do more of a free-write kind of thing.
I came across this woman’s story as I was browsing my news feed and it really hit me. It hit me because it is also my story, in more ways than almost anyone knows.
To clarify, I do have family. I just don’t have people that have been in my life since I was a newborn that see who I am, get joy from my joy, spend time sitting and listening to my thoughts and feelings and are present with my life. That’s what I want. That’s what Christmas cannot give me.
I grieve at the holidays. As much as I want to be in the moment and I try and try and try, there is a reality that I cannot put aside because it comes from a place of a real lack of attachment to a loving, empathetic family. It is a burden I carry on Mother’s Day, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter — the times when we should be wrapped in goodwill and love. I can’t help but think of all the people out there that might insist I need to just “let it go.” Then I think of all the people that are in the same boat as me. We are two different worlds that will never collide.
It brings up so many thoughts – thoughts that swirl around me like smoke and are difficult to grasp and hold on to. There are so many things I wish I could share with this woman, because I have been in that boat she speaks of. I know it well.
When I read her story though, it strikes me that she feels stuck in that boat, and I wish there was some way I could encourage her that she doesn’t have to live there. Is it easy? Oh hell no. But it is doable.
For me, I likened it to being a type of amputee. A part of you is missing: it’s just gone and you can’t ever get it back, and you can’t replace it. You can only move forward and try to adapt to and embrace a new normal, a new way of doing things, a new way of being. In my mind, I pictured a 3-legged dog catching Frisbees, still playing and finding joy and doing what he loved to do even though he was missing an important part of himself. I kept that image in my head through my darkest days, and even still, when those days come up.
I don’t t know that there is ever a state of “healed,” but “healing” becomes a state of being. It’s a process. Some days, it can feel like a more difficult choice than other days, but you keep on, keeping on, right? Personally, I try to add in a dash of, “living well is the best revenge.” It helps.