Dusting Self Off: II

Rocky got the snot beat out of him. He got knocked down, knocked out, bloodied, bruised, humiliated and humbled. And he kept getting back up. Sometimes it took longer than others. Sometimes he had to cling to the ropes, sometimes his trainer had to peel him off the mat. But he got back up.

I’m back up.

Yesterday flattened me. Yesterday had me looking at the smoldering wreckage of the life I planned for, the life I wanted, the life holding the fragrant cedar chest of my hopes. And forced me to see- it is gone. The house in which I had planned on raising my children, growing older and genteel, and becoming a grandmother is now another casualty of agency and addiction.

It hurts. I am grieving for those hopes, for the million futures I will no longer have. It feels like being kicked in the chest, and you curl up as the waves of icy hot pain radiate from your heart. And you can’t do a damn thing except wait for it to pass.

But a strange thing happened…

The worst has now come to pass. I have lost my marriage. I have lost my best friend. I have lost the promises and hopes of a future I wished mightily to have. I have lost a co-parent and love. I have lost financial security, savings, retirement, my good credit and health insurance. I am going to have to, through no fault of my own, let the house go as well. I feel like Rose when she has to watch Jack sink into the icy north Atlantic blackness. Perhaps for me to live, I have to let it all go.

So now I find myself, pulling my mid-thirties, with the future laying in wide avenues before me. Only a few things really matter: my children’s’ health and safety, and finding a way to support us. Everything else is frosting. It’s oddly freeing. My legs are shaking as I pull myself up yet again- but the flame of hope is kindled, strong, still, calm and safe deep inside.

15 thoughts on “Dusting Self Off: II

  1. Hello friend,
    I have been reading your blog for a while and never commented until today. I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you. Good things are in store for you and your family. Heavenly Father will not let you fail. It will be hard, but you can do it. I’m praying for you.

  2. I’m reminded of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, when Francie is at a melodrama and suddenly realizes that even if the hero had failed to show up and save the day, the lovely maiden and her sweet mother would live. They’d do piece work at the factory or cleaning by day. It would be hard. “But they’d live . . . You betcha they’d live. It takes a lot of doing to die.” As life has rained crap upon me and I’ve thought I couldn’t live through it, that quote would bounce around in my head. “It takes a lot of doing to die.”

    You are a survivor, brave and strong. I admire you more than I can say.

  3. I’ve just happened upon you tonight! Wow….you’re in a very difficult spot!
    I hurt for you reading your words. They are painful and you convey just how hard all of this is.
    I think you have a precious pile of kids….and God is going to redeem you!
    Hang in there…..I’m praying HUGE blessings your way….QUICK!

    You’re an inspiration!

  4. The path is wide open and the choice is yours. I’m starting a very scary but exciting path myself. I start school in a a little over a week, and I’m shaking in my boots (it’s been almost 15yrs since I’ve been in school). If I can make it so can you. You are going to do great things. Once you decide which path to take you are going to be amazed at where it will take you. It won’t always be easy or fun, but it’s worth it. You are giving your kids a great example of what you do when life knocks you down. I can’t wait to see where you are 6 months or a year from now.

  5. Just think, someday you’ll get to deal with your adult children’s agency. Then what will really matter? Hard, hard stuff. I met up with HSF yesterday and we worried and fretted for you collectively. So many prayers for you, and a lot of people who’d like to swoop in and rescue you if they had the resources. You will make it out intact, although I don’t dare say that the worst has already come to pass. That seems sort of like asking for it.

  6. I wish I could come up with a sensible method of typing the Rocky theme song… Way to get back up and fight!

    “Perhaps for me to live, I have to let it all go.” You have discovered that the MOST important things are your kids. Everything else, as you said, is “frosting.”

    When we moved last summer and I was stressing about what to pack, what to get rid of, what we had room to take… Ray kept telling me, “Pack the most important things first. The rest of it is just Stuff. We can replace it or live without it.” It was a really hard process for me to go through, partially because I was also cutting out a piece of my heart and leaving it behind in a place I never wanted to leave. Sometimes I still miss some things I no longer have. But he was right – it’s just Stuff. We’ve replaced some of it, and live without the rest of it. Surprisingly for me (major pack rat), I don’t miss most of it.

    It’s amazing the trauma we can learn to survive… Keep those boxing gloves ready to rumble, Tracy. You can do this.

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