The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
~ Haruki Murakami
~ Haruki Murakami
He and I had no talked in a week or so.. not really. So he had no way of knowing that I had been thinking about these things.. not these exact quotes, but the spirit behind them. Actually many different ideas have been on my mind lately. My mind has kind of been all over the place lately.
When I was a little girl, I used to LOVE to stare at myself in the mirror. I don't know why. But for whatever reason the image looking back at me has always fascinated me. I am not sure if my mother ever got on to me for that; seems like she might have. Even from a very young age, my looks played a huge part in the way I felt about myself. At first it was the horrible orange hair and crazy amounts of freckles that bothered me. Then it was the weight. Then it was the acne (which I still have issues with *laugh* but could care less about now). Then it was the size of my breasts (too big.....always). As I got older, I guess what I saw in the mirror didn't really bother me as much. I found things I liked. I loved my hair. At one point it was very long and naturally went from dark auburn at the roots, to a lighter/brighter shade of red to blond at the tips. Today, people pay good money for a dye job like that; mine came decades earlier and naturally. It looked like fire to me. I finally came to terms with my breasts; I guess that is what happens when you become an adult. My freckles pretty much faded (at least on my face). I still have them, but they are not as prominent. I am heavier than I was as a kid, and sometime my weight is an issue and other times it's not. My eye color is amazing and often times my eyes are different colors (one blue and one green). My hair is no longer the color of fire or even a penny. And the wrinkles that have start to show on my face really haven't bothered me much. But in the last 10 months, I have looked in the mirror and I have seen some rather big changes in my appearance. The light in my eyes seems to be a bit duller every now and then. My smile is not always the brightest anymore. My eyes look tired. The wrinkles I had before are deeper set, and much to my dismay, I have new ones setting in. When my hair is not dyed, and the roots grow out, I have so much more silver, glittery hair than I did 10 months ago. In 10 months, I have seen a huge change in the reflection of that mirror. Yet, there are times when I feel absolutely gorgeous.
As a matter of fact, last week, after doing my hair, and putting on make up and heading out for a night with my mom, I stopped at a convenience store. And the young man/clerk who was working there said "hello" to me 2 different times/places in the store. And the poor boy actually stumbled and faltered over his words. Something about *me* made him flustered. That has never happened to me before. It was a good feeling, but a bit odd too... especially considering that I FEEL so much older than I did 10 months ago.
Of course, everything I just typed was all about looks..and the way I have seen the reflection in the mirror change. But inside of me.. in places where mirrors don't get to, there has been an even bigger change. This "storm" that has hit is not over yet. I don't know if it ever will be. I feel like a canyon or a rock that has water flowing through it or around it or over it all of the time. And this water is constantly changing and transforming who I am and who I am becoming. It's a never ending process.
When Nick was killed, it was like I was this dried up desert just happy being me. I was happy with my blooming cacti and the occasional creepy crawly critters that made me jump and remember what scares me an helps me grow little bits at a time. Then on November 10th, a damn was broken and all of a sudden I have this river rushing through me. The sameness that is the desert life all of a sudden changed. The river keeps flowing and with it, little bits and pieces of the old me have gotten washed away. What was once a vast dry dessert, now has a deep canyon running through it. And in that canyon, are gorgeous walls of rock that were waiting just under the sands surface. New trees that require water have grown and are getting stronger. New animal life has moved in. There is new life in my desert. Sometimes, I can get up above this raging river canyon and visit my dry beautiful desert and I can look down at the stormy river and see its rage as a beautiful blessing. I can see the changes as beautiful. And the desert now seems quiet and a little less lively. It's still pretty, but it feels a bit uncomfortable...like its not really me anymore. It's a good place to visit, but I don't feel at home there. I have transformed. This damn breaking has changed me and when I have a chance to step back and look at what I have transformed into, I see it as beautiful, deep, alive, dynamic, fruitful, adventurous, and magnificent.
In the last couple of weeks, I have noticed something new about myself. I have always been compassionate and empathic. And I have always wanted to be the person to "fix" things for people. Co-dependency at is finest. But since Nick's death, I have realized that I have lost that desire. You have seen those memes on Facebook. "Not my circus, not my monkeys" (or is it the other way around?) That has never been more true for me than it is today. While I have compassion for my friends, and I can still *feel* them when they are hurting, I do not feel the need to fix them. It's not my job. My plate is full enough with a house filled with mourning people. I have several friends who are mourning losses of loved ones. I KNOW I can't fix that. But what I CAN do is be there to listen... to hike.. to ride bikes...to be there for them..just BE. That is all I can do. That is all they need. It's good to learn these things. It has taught me that my other friends who are experiencing other challenges also do not need me to fix them. It's not my job. It's their job to learn their own lessons and to not be rescued. Rescuing them only harms them in the long run. They have to rescue themselves, and I am okay with that now. I have detached from my need to rescue and fix.
I have also realized that there is indeed a kind of "secret club" for those who mourn. I had no idea how many people in my life have lost children... that is until I lose one of mine. And all of a sudden, I have more than I can count messaging me telling me they are Angel Mamas and we must stick together. And I have other friends who have lost other family members who are hurting. And just as I have felt like some of my friends have abandoned me because of my grief, my mourning friends are feeling the same way.... so yes...a kind of "club" is formed. It's not so cool. It's not a club anyone wants to be brought into or seeks to join. It just happens. But if Nick had not died, I would not be able to be there for friends who are now going through what they are going through; I could be there for them, but I would not have the understanding and compassion that I have now. Grateful is not the right word for how I am feeling about being in this club.....cause I will never be grateful for losing my son. However, I am grateful that I am able to step outside of my own grief in order to help others with theirs.
I am also grateful for the opportunity to be able to look at my life from a different perspective. I am also able to look at others reactions to my life from a different perspective. Everyone understands, deals with, and reacts with their own personal perceptions of how they think my life is. That is their stuff, not mine. Nor is it mine to be upset about. Giving them that grace is the best gift I can give them, and myself. Who knows.. they may be up in that desert with the blooming cacti where the sun always shines and be looking down into my canyon and see the pretty walls that were crated by the flood. The raging water may scare them, but they may see the beauty it has caused and they may long for that kind of beauty and understanding.. not the raging water that caused it. And that separation caused by that raging river may be hurting them as well. What I have learned through this.... we all need to take a step toward each other. Those of us in the canyon, need to come up into the desert and feel the sun on our skin and smell the cactus blooms. Those of you in the desert, need to take a few steps into the canyon and meet us closer to that raging river; I know its scary and hard to predict or understand, but sometimes us canyon dwellers just don't have the strength to climb out of the canyon to visit you on dry land.
Hugs
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