 It’s easy to say ‘always’ but not as easy to truly mean it. I’ve always been the black crayon among the array of other colors in the box. Sometimes, I think I’ve found someone who’s a shade of brown or even gray, but two mucky colored crayons can’t draw a rainbow.
On paper I can be witty and sarcastic, outgoing and entertaining but toss me into a group of physical, touchable persons and I become the tin man without any oil. My movements are squeaky and mechanical and my mouth hinges rusted close. I’m an introvert. It’s easier for me to scribble down the ins and outs of my life on paper, but to truly open up and let someone in is extremely difficult. It’s the reason why I have done it so few times in my 27 years. It’s also the reason why each time one of those friendships has come unraveled (and they always do) a piece of me coils back and sinks further into hibernation. In high school I was quiet and, naturally, I had resting bitch face so I wasn’t really the approachable type, not to mention I had a very protective and rather intimidating looking boyfriend. If you were looking for me you weren’t going to find me at any parties or hanging out at the local hot spot. I was, and still am, a nerd. Give me a book, pencil and paper or even a box of crafting supplies and leave me to my vices. However, as I’ve gotten older I have become more comfortable in my skin. I’m more accepting of myself and all the quirks that come with being me. I’ve even been fortunate enough to find a handful of people, including my husband, who embrace my social awkwardness. But, if we’re being totally honest, I’d have to admit that there are VERY few people who I have felt completely and totally comfortable around and recently I had to let go of one of those friendships. Life is a funny little brat sometimes. It brings people into your journey when you least expect and takes them away with the breeze of an unexpected, backhanded slap to the face. I’ve learned that letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring, it means you can’t care enough for both people so you let the other flutter away. We’ve all heard it before, relationships are hard. It doesn’t matter if they are romantic or friendly in nature. They all require work and commitment. Over the last week I've come to the realization that letting go doesn't mean nagging, blaming or arguing with the other person. It means letting go of the things I cannot control and searching for and correcting my own shortcomings. Letting go is not about regretting the past but rather it's about learning to grow and live for the future. By letting go you allow everything to fall into place, like taking that one book off the shelf that never really quite fit in anyways. The other books shuffle over just a hare and the shelf just seems a bit less stuffy, more relaxed and the spines of the remaining books are less compacted and easier to view. I guess the point of this post is to share that while we are sometimes hurt by the people we hold the closest and often times out of know where, sometimes you have to move on without certain people. If they are meant to be in your life, they will catch up and if they're not, you always have the memories. Letting go takes love and the time to love is short. Maybe one day someone will make a mistake and put two black crayons in the same box.
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 They say a watched pot never boils I think the same philosophy can be applied to my HCG levels. I had hoped to start 2016 with a clean slate, able to pee on a pregnancy test with a negative result. Sadly, the big man upstairs had different plans. I am still going for weekly blood draws and though my levels are dropping they are dropping at the same rate grass, without water or sunshine, grows. I have described this lingering miscarriage as the ghost of pregnancy past. Just when I think we’ve moved on to whatever comes next, the chains of this pregnancy can be heard clambering down the hall. I have moved from angry to frustrated and now I am just numb or, maybe, I have just learned to accept the situation for what it is. I have done everything I have been asked, taken all I was directed to take and now all I can do is accept the things I cannot change. If only it were that easy. Thankfully, Tim and are surrounded by an amazing support system of family and friends. The well wishes and outpouring of positive vibes and happy thoughts has truly been a blessing. I've even been surprised by the old "new" friendships that have been forged through the bond of sharing similar experiences. It just makes me appreciate the sayings "everything happens for a reason," and "even in bad situations there is always good, even if you can't see it yet," just that much more. One of those hidden blessings is a little orange kitten we call Pumpkin. We had hoped our nursery would be filled with the coos and laughter of a baby Finken but instead it has been filled with the purrs and snuggles of a wee little kitten. A wee little kitten we would have never adopted had I still been pregnant. It might seem silly to some but Pumpkin is EXACTLY what I needed to help me heal. The distractions of such a small little somebody who needed fleas baths, formula feedings and constant attention was the perfect diversion from everything else. I may not know the love of a human child but I most certainly know the love I feel when I snuggle this little fur baby. They say animals have great healing power, I knew this before and I believe it more now than ever. So while the ghost of pregnancy past continues to haunt me, I will find solace in the fact that everything DOES happen for a reason and things WILL work out however they were meant to be. One day at a time.
So today I turn 87 years old…more like 27 but it feels like I might as well be digging my own grave. Might be a bit dramatic but after the last few months, I feel like I have aged 50 years. Cashing out at a department store and the cashier asks how old I’m turning after my mother insisted on paying for my purchases as a birthday gift. “I’ll be 27.” “Oh wow. You’re almost 30 and that’s old.” “……” I could feel the smirk on my moms face behind me and I could hear a small hiss of air escape her lips as she attempted to hold back a chuckle. “Sigh. Yeah, almost 30.” “I mean you don’t look like you’re 27. You look really young.” Poor girl. The knife was pretty secure in my jugular. Nothing she said could reduce the bleeding or seal the incision that was made. Either way I was walking away with a bruised ego and a gray sweater with a neon yellow heart on the front. I had purchased it as a knock-around the house sweater but walking out the door I felt too old to have a neon yellow heart sweater in my closet at all. Sometimes I feel like I have lost control of this machine; my life is a runaway train. Barreling through boulders, guard gates and broken rails with no regard for the attempts to slow it down…even when I feel life NEEDS to slow down it just keeps on chugging along.
By this point in my life I had imagined an old farm house in the country, or an old Victorian. Lots of acreage, horses (rescues of course) and a career as a writer. Oh, and a couple dozen rescue dogs and cats. Alas, I work an 8 to 5 office job as a minion, live in the suburbs and do not own any horses…yet. Sometimes, life doesn’t follow your guidelines. Sometimes it veers so far off your plan that you look back and think "how did I end up with four dogs, three cats and a crazy (good looking) husband?" When I imagined my future I never thought I'd be where I am today but that's the great thing about life, its ever changing, revolving and throwing curve-balls. It's an adventure. A water slide with tunnels and blind corners. Sometimes you feel like your drowning and sometimes you're giggling and smiling with firecrackers of adrenaline. Sometimes your bathing suit gets caught on a screw and you end up in the pool with no bottoms on. Shit happens. The point is, whether you're 87 or 27 it doesn't matter. You're alive just as much today as you were yesterday. Just make sure you're LIVING and not just surviving. Happy Birthday to me, 27 years in the books and I can't wait to see what my 28th year has in store for me. |
Author#Writer, #blogger and avid reader. #Animal advocate, fur mom and devoted wife. Just your run of the mill #dreamer, chasing her dreams and hoping for the best. Currently Reading:
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