So much has happened in the past
five years, I’m not sure where to begin.
As it is, I started and deleted the
beginning of this post about six times before I finally got the first sentence
set. And it’s not even a complex one.
In the span of five years, from
right around the time my cousin (by marriage), Jacob died, my life has been in
complete and utter chaos.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s been
good stuff mixed in there. Make no mistake the good stuff can be part of the
chaos too. But I’ll start with Jacob, and the morning we found out we’d lost
him...
December 22, 2009—the day everything
stopped when my husband called to tell me the horrible news. I fell to my knees,
unable to say anything except, no!
Losing Jake was a shock to the soul.
We’d lost his older brother not two years earlier, and having the same fate
befall Jacob just seemed too surreal. Jacob was a young man with such a bright
light inside of him that if you were lucky enough to meet him, you never forgot
him. And from that point on you called him friend.
Behind Jacob’s bright light was his
struggle with heroin. The same as his brother. It’s an ugly disease, drug
addiction... and alcoholism. And it’d claimed two victims in our family within
such a short period of time that our heads just spun with grief.
A few months after losing Jacob, we
lost a friend to the same addiction.
The disease was winning.
We trudged on. We did Christmas with
the family. We had a service for Jacob, honoring him with as many friends and
family that could fit into my backyard. It was beautiful. And it was deeply
sad.
But underneath all of that, there was
another disease brewing—one only a select few were aware of.
My marriage was falling apart and I
was losing my ever-loving mind.
You want to know what’s happened in
the last five years? Much more than I’m willing to post publicly, but what I
will share is that I traveled down a path I’d never planned to go down. One
that lead to destruction.
The destruction of not only one but
two marriages: My own and my best friend’s.
Now, I am not suggesting that I’m
responsible for all of that mess, but I certainly had a part in it. And I own
that part fully.
The husband I mentioned above, is
now my ex husband. And we share the custody of our children fifty/fifty. It works.
Things are amicable—grossly amicable. But that’s typical for T and me. We’re
friends. Always have been, probably always will be.
I’m grateful for that friendship.
I’m also grateful for the marriage we had before and even after it all fell
apart. It taught me a lot. He was a wonderful husband to me and continues to be
an incredible father to our kids.
I will tell you this, I can count
how many good men I’ve known in my life on one hand, and my ex husband, T is on
that list.
Speaking of good men...
Two years ago, my father
unexpectedly died. I wouldn’t have put him in the category with good men, but that
no longer matters. What matters is that he was my father and I loved him.
Unconditionally. In spite of his flaws.
My father knew everything about me,
and he loved me just as I am. Flawed and full up on bad choices. Losing him was
not something I could’ve ever prepared for. It brought me to my knees, but when
I was finally able to stand, I walked through it as best I could. There are
days now when I feel so incredibly alone because he’s gone. My mother is very
ill and cannot be “there” for me in the way that I need, and essentially having
neither of them present in my life is painful and lonely. At times I feel
orphaned.
I walked away from my best friend
because she did something so painful to me that I couldn’t bear to look at her
anymore. I still can’t. Some things aren’t meant to be fixed. This is one of
those things. But I miss her. A lot.
It’s five years since Jacob died,
and I feel like I’m still sitting in the same spot emotionally I was in back
then. Just as confused. Just as conflicted. And just as broken. Flawed and full
up on bad choices.
I keep chasing my unicorn. A rare
find for sure.
I’m dazzled by its beauty. In awe of
its little quirks and perfect imperfections. Easy to love, and yet because it
refuses to let me get too close, impossible to love—but the desire to do so
remains. Even though it hurts.
I feel like that sentence sums up
the last five years of my life: Even though it hurts.
Step forward, and do the next right
thing; take the next right action. Even though it hurts! Get up and work in the
morning at the day job. Stay awake all hours of the night writing/revising and then
get up and get the kids to school the next morning. Travel for work. Sleep.
Write. Work. Parent. Write. Sponsor ten women. Meetings. Work... Sleep.
Even though it hurts.
Do it anyway. Push through it.
Then chase the unicorn and give my
heart away only to have it ignored. Defying destiny for a little taste of something
I’ve never had in my life before. But after everything that’s happened, and all
my sins, do I really deserve it?
It’s a theme. As if I’m on some sort
of journey of self-discovery, self-punishment, and self inflicted misery. And I
don’t stop, even though it hurts.
I’m no martyr. That skin doesn’t fit
me. I’m not a victim either. I’m just me... Perfectly imperfect. Broken and
healed. Tenacious and relentless. Full up on bad choices and expectations that
people can’t possibly meet. Because they’re broken too.
And tired... I’m fucking tired.
I miss Jacob. I miss my father. I
miss my best friend. I miss my mother. I miss the comfort of being in a
marriage. I miss being touched by someone who loves me.
After five years, I miss a lot of
things.
