My uncle died last Wednesday.
Uncle Lloyd was my favorite aunt’s husband. She was my father’s baby sister. Aunt Norma. She is the only person in my family - other than my brother and sister - who I physically resemble. I have heard it all of my life from my mother, “you look so much like your aunt Norma.” Not that I minded at all, I always thought she was beautiful - inside and out.
Norma and Lloyd have been married forever it seems. Their son’s, Jeff and Jaime are close to my age (in their 40s). You could just always feel how much they loved one another. Their family was what all families strive to be. I didn’t see them very often, but I love them dearly.
Life is really interesting sometimes. Just when I thought I had successfully managed pull myself up out of the challenges of my life, and to get myself to this really healthy and happy place, I find myself struggling not to lose my balance as the rug feels like it has been abruptly pulled out from under me. I feel as though I am teetering between my healthy, grown-up self and my scared, hurt and abandoned, little girl self. The good news is that I have not lost my balance completely. I am still standing. Definitely a little wobbly, but standing none the less...
I also know that when the teetering feeling begins, I am suppose to be learning something. It is as obvious as learning to grieve? What is it exactly that is upsetting me so much right now? Why am I feeling so trapped within the little girl me right now?
Perhaps it is the way I found out my uncle died. Not a phone call from a relative. Not a letter. Welcome to the golden age of technology. I actually learned of my uncle’s passing in a post by one of my cousins on her Facebook page. Yeah. I looked at that post for probably about 5 minutes, re-reading it to make sure I read it correctly. “My uncle Lloyd went to sleep tonight and woke up in heaven.”
After I made sure I had read it correctly and indeed, my uncle “woke up in heaven”, the floodgates opened and I cried. I cried for my aunt who loved him so much. I cried for my cousins, because they lost their father. I cried because I read about it on Facebook. I cried because I was reminded that when my own father died, no one called me either. I found out weeks later from my little adopted, half-sister, who was able to track me down and tell me the news because she thought I should know. I cried because I actually knew my uncle better than I knew my own father, and, quite honestly, I hardly knew my uncle. I cried because of the fact that on my father’s side of the family, I loved my aunt Norma and uncle Lloyd the most, because I knew them better than anyone else (other than my grandparents who cared for us for nearly three years when we were small).
It seems as though I have spent years trying to convince myself that it didn’t matter... the fact that my father left us. My brother and sister and I are amazing people and it was his loss that he didn’t know us. I have said this over and over again. Apparently, I am not fully believing or perhaps accepting this as truth. And while I know that I have overcome so many of those feelings of abandonment and hurt and loss, apparently there are more of those feelings lurking just beneath my calm surface. It seems as if all the muck that had settled peacefully at the bottom has been dredged up to the surface, once again. This is a bit unnerving, to say the least. I am not a fan of muck - especially when I thought it was gone. Damn muck! Not fair to be there all along, just waiting for some abrupt current, or nasty rip tide, to bring it all to the surface once again.
I have spent the last two years actively working on myself. Trying to overcome so much of my past - all of the pain and hurt - including the seeming parent/family induced pain. I know that I have the power to move above all of it, and, in all actuality, I thought I had done just that. Yet, here I am... once again... teetering. Teetering and muck, really not one of my high points. Well, I suppose it’s better to be teetering above the muck than wallowing in the muck. That would just really suck.
So, it is now Sunday night. I hit my low point yesterday. Why? Because I could not turn off my brain. I was trying to figure things out. I was trying to make sense of things. That was the problem. I was trying too hard. I was not allowing things to just be. I was laying in bed yesterday, crying and feeling sorry for myself... and my own history has proven that is is not me at my best, nor is it beneficial in the least. As I felt myself slipping into meltdown territory... slipping a little more and more, I realized that I had two choices, I could drag my ass out of bed and do something constructive, or I could continue laying there and get sucked back into all the nasty muck. Thank God I had the strength to drag my ass out of that bed. I can honestly say that my ass was reluctant to move... and it continued to drag for a long while.
So, there I was dragging my ass around my apartment... looking around... looking for something. I opened the blinds in the living room and looked out at the beautiful greenbelt outside my window. That is actually the reason I rented the apartment. It is quite breathtaking. Then I started thinking, “you know, I really need to be able to sit and enjoy that view. So I walked out to my little patio. It wasn’t bad. I have some fresh herbs and a bougainvillea. But the two folding, camping chairs were not very inviting. So I made up my mind right then to upgrade my patio and make a special spot where I could sit and meditate and soak in all the beauty of the trees and nature that surround me. I hauled the rest of the plastic bins to my car to take to my storage unit. I swept up the floor of the patio and then I headed out.
Once the bins were locked safely away, I headed to Home Depot. They didn’t have anything of interest for my patio, except for lovely tomato and pepper plants, which I bought. So I then headed to Lowe’s, right down the street. To my amazement, they had two chairs and a little table for a very reasonable price and I even picked up cushions to boot! My rational side tried to talk me out of the purchase, because it was really not in my budget, but then the part of me that knew it was imperative to be pulled completely out of the muck rationalized right back and with urgency... “this is way cheaper than therapy!” So there you have it. I am sitting on my patio right now as I am typing this (big smile).
I loaded up my new treasures in my little car and dragged them up to my apartment, along with my ass, which was now less reluctant to be moving and even excited about the patio project. I unpacked and put together the little table and unwrapped the protective covers of the chairs and attached the cushions. Ah! Wonderful! I planted the tomato plant in a bigger pot and added the little wire cage. I put some candles out and, viola! My own little paradise.
This morning, I had a little more ass dragging to do. I had to drag the old ass out of bed before 5 a.m. to get it to Agape! Missing services is no longer allowed! The message was beautiful... and, as always, just what I needed to hear. Basically, instead of letting ourselves get caught up in what we consider hard times or lack, wake up everyday, thankful for what we have and say, “what can I do to be an answer to someone else’s prayers?” Wow! So simple, yet so profound. Thanks Michael Bernard Beckwith, you are amazing!
I came home with a completely different outlook. And, the first thing I did was open up my blinds to let in the beauty.
A new friend came over this afternoon with some delicious food and wonderful conversation. We watched a lovely movie called The Legend of 1900, which was sad, but thoughtful and the music was enchanting. Then he left and I had time for me and getting all this stuff out.
I know that my new patio and Agape did not “fix” everything. I know that I may have these things pop up again someday, but I am getting stronger. Stronger in the knowledge that the past is just that - the past. I cannot do anything to change it. I can only be accepting of it and grateful for it... for the lessons and the strength I have gained because of it.
I love my family, and even though some of them are not close, the love will not change. I have learned that I will actively try to never, ever again pity myself because I did not have the “storybook” life while growing up... who does, really? We all have our own muck that needs dealing with at some point... varying degrees, depths and yuckiness at different times of our lives. What we have to remember is that we are strong, we are resilient, we are created in the image and likeness of our Creator. We can overcome anything. We just have to take the first step... dragging our asses out of bed and doing something – anything – beautiful for ourselves. Reminding ourselves that we matter. We are important. We are loved. Because we all do matter, we are all so very important, and we are so loved.
Life is not always easy. Sometimes it is downright hard. However, if we look around... I mean really look around, there is beauty everywhere - it is inside of each one of us.
I am choosing beauty and peace and light. It is way better than muck!
Peace and love!
Krissy
