While I was suffering the emotional tsunami that was the month of
December, and for that matter, the second half of 2014, I started fantasizing
about what 2015 might be. Not big dreams
or anything. More like just being able
to let go of the shit storm that the past year had been. But they were dreams all the same.
I basically shut down sometime around the beginning of fall. I started counting down the days to January 1
back in October. I refused to cook a
turkey at either holiday. Because
turkeys are a lot of work and fuck you anxiety.
I muddled my way from the beginning of December until the 14th
when Radley’s birthday party was only a memory.
I held my breath until December 25th. When I finally took the trash out on
Christmas day, I exhaled slowly. I felt
a relief that I don’t remember feeling in what seemed like several
lifetimes. Then, as quickly as it came,
it was gone. I was suddenly horrified
when I realized that I only had eleven months to recover until the next holiday
season.
Somehow though, I managed to get out of bed on Monday morning and
go to work. I only had to suffer through
three more days of the mental punishment and emotional disaster that was
2014. I went to work on Monday. Made it.
It even proved functional and productive. I woke up again the next day did the same
thing. Fucking kudos to me. But something was different about that
day. As I sat doing what I do, I had a feeling
of ambivalence rush over me. For a few
minutes, I questioned myself; my purpose.
It’s a feeling that I have become very familiar with over the last
several years. For the first time
though, I realized I didn’t like it. It
wasn’t just sad and uncomfortable anymore.
It was a burden.
I looked at the clock.
Almost lunchtime. I did a quick
scan for who was logged into their computers.
I didn’t know where I needed to go or who I needed to see, I just knew
that I had to go somewhere and see someone.
All of my go-tos were gone. So, I
got in the car and drove down the hill until I found an empty parking
spot. Turns out, the first spot I found
was really close to the fourth floor of the Juliet Nichols Building.
I parked. Walked in the third
floor entrance. Climbed the stairs to
the fourth deck, where, sure as shit, I found people. Not just any people. Real
people. Good people. People not wearing uniforms, but you know, it
was December 30th, so whatever.
There were people there. People I
had no idea that I needed so badly.
The first stop I made was into the office of a friend who had just
suffered the loss of a child in his family.
I walked in and hugged him and asked if everything was “OK?” The question mark is appropriate. Because when a family loses a child, nobody
is OK. He was silent at first and I kept
waiting for him to respond. Then out of
nowhere, this precious, blond, seven year old with a tablet was hugging my waist and
taking pictures of me with her new Christmas gift. As I entertained her by posing, she said
“Don’t worry, when I’m done with these pictures, you won’t look anything like
you do now.” I looked at Andy, eyebrow
raised. He said “Don’t worry, she said
that you look like you are 30.” Aw…I
love her the most.
Just when I thought that I had done everything I needed to do was
done, I walked out of Andy’s office, looking down. While I was so overwhelmed love, good spirit
and the sweet lies of a seven year old, I walked right into another dear
friend. Neither of us paying attention
to where we were going, I heard him grumble something about the power in the
building. I backed up into Andy’s
office, I hugged Tim, as he hollered over my shoulder “Call facilities. I’m tired of the power tripping.” Funny enough, he wasn’t talking about the
power trips. He was talking about the
breaks in electricity that made the lights flicker in the building.
I walked passed him again, heading back to the stairs, and said “You’re
an electrician. Fix that shit.” He looked at me like I was a stranger and
said “I don’t fix things anymore. I fix people now.” I rolled my eyes just
enough to be funny and turned to go.
From over my shoulder, I heard “Why don’t you stop by for a minute?”
Some people I can make excuses with. Tim isn’t one of those people. In fact, he’s not even one of those people
that I want to make excuses with. So, I
just followed him back to his office.
Before I even sat down, I had tears in my eyes. I reached for a Kleenex, and he laughed…”Yeah,
I keep a couple boxes in here.” In my
mind, I was thinking “Fuck you, brother. I don’t cry on command. I was crying
before I walked in the door.” Jerk.
That’ll teach him to expect when I cry.
Anyway, I sat down and he asked me about what had been going on,
as if he didn’t know. He realized it was
a stupid question, because he knew exactly what had been going on. I finally said “I’m going to burn it all,
Tim. All of the hurt. All of the defeat. All of the bullshit. I’m going to burn it.” I’ll be quite honest, I expected him to look
at me and say “FINALY!!! You are going
to let it all go. FINALLY!!!” That’s what I expected.
When he finally spoke, it wasn’t the encouragement that I had
expected. It wasn’t the pep rally I had
envisioned. It wasn’t even a “Hey, good
onya, sister!” He looked me dead in the face
and said “So, you have a bucket of shit that you want to burn. Why don’t you have a barrel filled with
everything you have done right?”
I looked at him like he was crazy.
I was so mad that he didn’t acknowledge what a fucking monumental step
it was for me to just let go of my demons that I almost walked right out of his
office. But he calmed me down. He asked me a very simple question. He stared me down and said “What have you
done right?” I was uncomfortable. Finally I said “I have a job and I support
my son.”
I think those are pretty admirable qualities. But Tim saw that even something as simple as
those two things made me uncomfortable.
So, he followed my gaze out the window in his office. “He said is there something outside that you
are proud of?” No. Not at all.
I’d just rather look outside than look at you right now. I can’t remember if I actually said that or
was just entertaining my inner monologue.
Either way, he got where I was and said “You can tell me two things that
you have done that make you worthwhile.
I have known you for three years and I can tell you twelve, off the
cusp. Probably a dozen more if I could
think about it more. Why don’t you start
living, and not just surviving?”
No words. Again. Nothing. I.
HAD. NOTHING. We hugged.
I said thank you a bunch of times.
I left. I made my way down the
stairs, real cautious. Because you need
to be careful when you wear high heels and descend a stair case. It’s just prudent. But when I got to the car. I sat there for a few minutes and thought “what
the fuck was that? Isn’t living surviving?”
But it’s not. You either
live or you survive. That eve of New
Year’s Eve, I was reminded that living and surviving are NOT the same.
-Inner Peas
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