Thou Shalt Not Wallow

Shit happens.  To everybody, at one point or another.  No one is immune.  Once we all accept that, it makes it a hell of a lot easier to deal with the shit.

I'm not a wallower.  Never have been.  I've had my moments, certainly, of brief wallowing, but I never linger in it.  I asked my mom (aka The Rock) if maybe I am just a little less sensitive than other people, a little more cold in the heart, or hard around the edges.  "No," she replied.  "We are just resilient people.  We're strong.  We bounce back pretty fast."

I sat back and thought on that awhile.  I think she's right.  Everyone in my family, we've all had our share of ups and downs, collectively and individually.  But none of us are broken.  None of us have become so damaged that we cannot move forward with our lives.  Many of my friends have been knocked down by life, too.  Everyone gets back up, brushes off the shit, and moves forward.  I'm surrounded by a very muscly bunch of folks.

My friend K, another rock in my life, sent me a quote and I can't recall the phrase exactly.  It was something along the lines of "everyone grieves in their own time frame" or "you can't grieve on anyone else's schedule."  How true is that?  Some people cling to their grief the rest of their lives.  Others give themselves a schedule ("I will get over it in exactly six months...one year...ten years.").  Some of us, me included, hold onto bits of it because it has become attached to the love we feel for those we are without.

None of that is wrong.  I can't judge anyone's grief, nor will I answer to anyone's judgement about mine.  We all, in our own time, move forward.  Not "on," just "forward."  I've found that my Babydoll propels me quite a bit.  Her young age means that she doesn't have full comprehension of what has happened to us.  She knows when Mama is sad, and my tears bring on her own.  In fact, she cries any time someone else does.  She's a very sensitive and attuned person.  My life's purpose is to make her happy, so wallowing in my grief simply will not do.  When I smile and laugh, she does, too.

And there it is.

Finding Our Way, Or How To Have Faith When Life Hurls Shit In Your Face

I haven't written in awhile.  A dear friend told me yesterday that she misses my blog.  My response to her was that I haven't been inspired, but that's not entirely true.  I generally try to share information that is relevant to my style of parenting and my lifestyle, and I always try to keep it upbeat.  My inspiration, of late, has been dark and melancholy, without a hint of sunshine anywhere.

My family has been through an unbelievable trauma.  I don't want to use the word "tragedy," because while our loss has been tragic, I don't consider it a tragedy.  But "trauma," that word fits.  Cancer struck our home and ripped it apart.  My dear, sweet daughter, my most precious charm, my angel, is without her father, and I am without my partner.  I will skip the details, because, quite frankly, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

What I've been working on is maintaining my faith.  My family has helped me tremendously.  The love within ours is fiercely protective and unconditionally accepting.  A hug and look from my mother reassures me that I will get through this, that I will undoubtedly pull myself together, and that life will absolutely go on.  The quiet strength and resolve of my dad lends itself to everyone in our family - some things don't need to be spoken.  They just are and always will be.  My youngest brother provides proof that laughter is the best medicine, and my other brother always demonstrates that hard work and perseverance, never giving up and never accepting "No," always pays off in the end.  My sweet sister-in-law gently lifts us up and brings us together in so many ways. My aunt gives the the tightest, most heartfelt hugs and small whispers of encouragement, and sometimes that is all you need to keep going.

And then there is my baby.  It is she who truly keeps me going, and it is she who reminds me that faith lives in my heart.  I do have faith that we will find our way together, and that we are, in fact, already finding it.  I've made some small strides in reclaiming my life in the last couple of weeks and one great big one is on the horizon.  I have faith in my higher power, in my loving family, in my amazing friends, and most importantly, in myself.

I hope that you will always have faith, too, in whatever form suits you, no matter what life hurls at you.