5 posts tagged “life”
Joe's wreck has made me really think about a lot of things this weekend. My own reckless youth, the fragility and complexity of human life, and my future adventures as a mother of two children (who are bound to get into their own share of trouble).
When we are young we feel invincible. This is never more evident than in our college years, where inexperience marries the new feeling of independance and budding adulthood. I look back to my life between the years of 18 and 25 and can count many times my life should have been forever changed in the instant blink of an eye because of some faulty decision I made.
- I use to never wear my seatbelt. I had the theory that if I did, I'd be that one person that gets trapped in a burning car and can't free herself because of the damn seatbelt. It was this strange paranoia that I had coupled with my feeling of clausterphobia - I refused to wear one. One day while driving with my high school boyfriend Bryan (Joe's older brother, ha)... we were in his little hot rod painted VW bug. Another teenage driver ran a stop sign and SLAMMED into us not a block from my house. My stepdad heard the crash from our front yard and came running. Despite not having a seatbelt on, all I did was dislocate my knee-cap on the dashboard and get two huge bruises (one on my upper thigh and one on my arm from hitting the driver seat). One of the bruises became a busted blood vessel that I still have today. A constant reminder of my stupidity and luckiness.
- I use to drive my car from my home town to a town about 45 minutes away to go out with my cousins. I'd go right after my shift at work (I was a coctail waitress) and they were total jerks and would leave me if I wasn't there RIGHT at 11pm. So I drove about 90 mph all the way there in my '93 manual transmission Grand Am. I felt like a total badass cause I got that drive down to about 28 minutes tops. One night a car in front of me had a blow out and I skidded off the road to avoid crashing into them. I drove away shaken up, but not a scratch on me or the car, despite the long line of skid marks down the highway.
- I use to drink a lot in college. I also slept around. I'll admit it. I went from being a straight A honor student and youth group leader at my church in high school to a drunken slutty party girl in college. It's amazing I actually got a degree. One night, 2 months before I graduated from college, a friend of mine's boyfriend raped me in his room after a party. I walked away with scars on my soul, but not diseased, pregnant or physically damaged in any way. As tragic as it was, it could have been worse. Instead it was a huge wake up call for me... and it eventually helped get a serial rapist behind bars, instead of in the public to continue his abuse of women.
- I was sooooo
in loveobsessed with an ex-boyfriend in my 20's, that I went off the pill hoping to get pregnant so he'd stop being commitment-phobic and marry me. Thank God that I wasn't successful, he was all kinds of wrong for me. - I on Spring Break with a group of girls my senior year in college to South Padre Island, Texas. The first night there I got mad at them and in a drunken fit left them at the dance club we were at. It was 3 am and I walked over a mile on the beach in a super tight mini skirt and halter top with no bra in the dark. By myself. About halfway back to our hotel, I sobered up enough to realize I was the perfect target for anyone with evil-doing on his (or her) mind. I made it back a little scared but no worse for wear.
And there are countless other little stories that I can remember being reckless and too stupid to care what the consequences would be. Like I said, I was old enough to make my own decisions, but inexperienced enough to think they were the right ones.
Each one of those stories could have resulted in a very different outcome for my life. I have no doubt, having lived through each one of them that I had someone greater than me looking out for my well-being. I also feel like there is a purpose to my life. Because everything I have ever experienced has taught me a lesson that either directly helped me or someone else or both.
I am reminded of a painting I've seen. Two children are holding hands and walking over a narrow wooden bridge, with many cracks and splinters... looking as if it may collapse into the deep streaming water below at any moment... but above them is the soft figure of a guardian angel directing their steps and protecting them from harm.
The picture use to hang in my nursery. Then it hung in both of my children's nurseries. I believe in Guardian Angels, because I know without any doubt that I've been protected many times in my life.
All of this was brought to me because of Joe's accident on Friday. He didn't tell very many people he had just purchased a Harley, wanting to get lessons and get good at riding it first and then suprise everyone. My sister knew of course, and because Joe and I are close, he had called me and told me about it too. I was excited for him, but my own past experiences and something within my heart made me caution him. I made him promise me that he would always wear a helmet, no matter how short the trip he was making, and that he would go slow and be careful and always value his life over the value of his bike. He chuckled at me, as young people often do when someone older warns them of danger, and promised to be careful. I promised to not tell anyone his suprise until he had a chance to.
An hour later he crashed through a brick wall in the parking lot of the apartment complex him and my sister live in. He was conscious as he layed and called for help, with his bone sticking out of the side of his leg. He used his scout training to tie off his leg with a belt in case any major arteries were affected. He lay still and patient while the ambulance came. He asked his neighbor to put his bike in the garage, to which his nieghbor told him "Dude, that bike isn't going anywhere, it's totaled man."
From the first hospital the ambulance took him, he was determined to be in too bad of shape to be treated there, so they care-flighted him to a bigger hospital. He had his first surgery on Friday and still has atleast two more this week to endure on his knee and possibly 6 months of physical therapy to learn to walk again with it.
All because he couldn't wait to ride it. Because he thought that he could take it for a spin around the parking lot, even though he had not been trained to ride it yet. Thank God he was wearing leathers and a helmet... so the only damage was to the leg that was trapped between the bike and the brick wall. He basically crushed his knee. He says he'll never ride a motorcycle again.
As bad as this story is... we are grateful. Grateful he had his helmet on. Grateful that it was in a parking lot instead of 70 mph on a highway. Grateful that my sister wasn't on the bike with him at the time. Grateful that he's alive and didn't lose his leg completely.
We are not invinsible. This is for certain. But I do believe we have someone watching over us and protecting us at the most important times of our lives.
That's why each night I put my hands on my children and pray to God. I thank Him for giving me such blessings and I ask him to watch over them and protect them every minute of every day. Whether they are with me or not.
I know the day will come when they will make bad decisions that can seriously affect the rest of their lives. I just hope that on that day their Guardian Angel is there to guide their steps and shelter their life. Because it is so precious to me.
UPDATED:
Meg just posted a picture and a some info about his knee on her myspace.
Okay I don't know any technical terms so this is the dummy version of what has happened to Joe.
He broke off a small part of the femur indicated by the crack. The larger part of the femur is what came through the skin. The surgery he had on Friday fixed this part indicated by the diagonal line.
The oval on front/top is his knee cap, which he has split in half. It is currently not in place, but I cannot remember if it moved down in front of the tibia, or is on the back side. The surgery he will have tomorrow will fix this part.
He will need at least one more surgery later in the week to correct ligaments and tendents. They will have a better understanding to the extend of the damage tomorrow after surgery."
Growing up, being a mother wasn't part of my fantasy. You know. The ones you sit as a child in your room and dream about your career (usually something romantic, involving being very famous and successful). The ones where you imagine your home and how you would decorate it... the places you'd go when there was no one to tell you what to do and with whom.
My dreams revolved around some kind of creative pursuit. Fashion Designing, Dancing, Singing, Traveling, Painting... something that would bring me fame and fortune and exciting experiences. Mothering was never a part of those plans.
Sure I played "house" with my cousins growing up. Pretended to be the mother, the wife... but usually I was more interested in the pretending to cook on my play stove and setting the table than I was in the whole feeding a baby with a bottle and rocking them to sleep. That bored me. (Ironically I see the same preferences with Jenna... she is so me). But I digress.
The point is, mothering wasn't part of my plan. Even as I grew older and resigned myself to the fact I would probably marry someone someday, as I have always been highly romantic and a tad bit "boy crazy". And even deep down I assumed someday I'd have children. But it wasn't a driving force or need. Just a fact that I realized would eventually happen. I'd fit it somewhere into my more idealist fantasy of my life.
I am not sure where or when the fantasy changed. When the life I always imagined became less enticing that the life I had, but it did. At the same time my career as a upcoming Marketing executive was taking off, I became a mother. And somewhere the cosmos completely shifted.
I was doing what I always wanted. I was going to fancy dinners, traveling the country, meeting interesting people... I loved designing and working with graphic designers and copywriters. All I ever wanted was at my fingertips.
And I was miserable. My marriage was falling apart and I had two children at home that I missed so deep within my soul, it was a constant ache. I dreaded the drive to work each day. I thought of the 2 hours a day, 10 hours a week, 30 hours a month (A FULL DAY), that I was missing out on the life of my children JUST in commute time alone (that doesn't account for the traveling and late night client dinners I was required to do).
For the first time in my life my fantasy became being home with my children. Holding them in my arms when they cried, spending time in the park with them, putting dinner on the table for them each night. It became my new driving force... I began to obsess about it, making my job more and more miserable for me.
Without going through that terrible time when I left my career to fulfill my new dream of staying home with my children, only to find out that my husband was a fillandering, lying, cheat... I must say, despite all that, I enjoyed so much of my life then. Planning a menu each day, shopping for enticing food for the kids, going to playdates and reading them stories before bed. I didn't have contentment as a wife unfortunately, but I did have contentment and joy as a mother. And it was more than I could ever hope for.
Some of my fondest memories even included the ex. When he'd come home from work and we sat to eat dinner as a family. Nate, just a baby, sitting at his highchair and giggling and gurgling through his baby food and tiny bites of what we were having. Jenna, just mastering table manners, learning to use a fork and a spoon - John and I laughing at her intense concentration over trying to perfect every bite. There was such laughter. I was never lonely. Happiness was finally my life.
......
Over the past two years, I've come to appreciate how my life changed back then. The lessons I learned. The ways my expectations of myself and my life changed. I still love to be creative. I love to work. My job is no longer one of prestige, but it's fun and fulfilling. I get the best of both worlds. A job I love and children that love me unconditonally to come home to each evening.
And yet, I am lonely.
The weekends without the children are a mixture of relief and despair. I love having the "me" time that so many mothers long for and never get. And yet I worry about them every minute they aren't here. And I miss them. When they are here, I will admit, I wish we had a father, husband, male around to participate in the joy of our lives. To have someone to turn to and say "look at them, aren't they amazing?".
For now, I guess I am trying to keep the smile on my face. Make the best of our life. I don't let people see the true state of my heart and desires. Sometimes I am not sure what they are myself. There was a time right after the divorce I wanted to run away from it all. It was too much to bare. A clean slate is what I thought I wanted.
But I didn't have that option. So I have tried everything I know to make the life I think everyone thinks I should have. I have the townhouse, the job, the furniture. I do the cooking, the laundry, the cleaning. I help with homework, I dry tears and administer medicine for fevers. I help them say prayers, and memorize the pledge of allegiance... I am their encyclopedia, their moral compass, and the comforter of life. The constant, the steady, the unbreakable.
Yet, I am not unbreakable. I am fragile. The love of my children isn't enough. I am lonely.
It's not just the laugh, touch, and company of a man I miss (although that is part of it... but I have my outlet for that, ... it's the joy of friends... the celebration of life... the feeling of completeness that being surrounded by all the things you adore brings.
John and I use to have these fabulous parties. Dozens and dozens of friends would come. We loved to entertain. The children would be the center of attention and dazzle us with their cuteness. We were the center of socialization for our freinds and our family. I guess it's what was part of what made us work. We didn't do good one-on-one, but in a group setting, we were the picture of marital bliss.
We were invited to parties and had friends over for cards and wine... where we stayed up late into the night laughing and talking and enjoying the company and conversation of adults.
Somehow I got divorced and became a leper to the friends in our world. Yes, there are those that still keep in touch with the odd christmas card or email. I get snapfish albums and recaps of vacations in group distribuiton. Occasionally I get invited to a baby shower or a wedding. But no longer am I welcomed into the world of social soirees and couple's dinners. It takes days and even weeks for friends to return calls and/or emails.
By day I interact with co-workers and clients and am proud of the job I am doing, but there is no one to share my excitement and accomplishment. By night I make the complicated dance of a single mother stay on pace with barely a mis-step. But no one is there to understand the difficulty of doing so. To share my joys and burdens with. Maybe because I've held them at arms length in my effort to prove to the world I could do it on my own. Maybe unconsiously they are afraid that divorce is a virus they might catch, therefor they stay at a safe distance. Maybe I am pathetic and not fun to be around anymore.
Regardless, I find myself spending Saturday nights watching DVDs with my parents and quizzing my mom on family history (interesting fact, I found out that there is Portugeuse on my grandfather's side of the family). And I spend Sunday afternoon remembering the dreams and ideals of my youth and comparing them to my present. The stark contrast makes me wonder about what my future holds. If the dreams I have now will ever actually come to fruitition, as life rarely works out at you hope.
And if my future isn't what I hope it to be, how can I trust in any constant in my life? How can I trust my own feelings and emotions about my life? How do I look forward when there is so much disappointment and regret to get passed?
Who am I am and where am I going? What IS my identity? Why can't I seem to make my dreams come true?
I don't know the answers. Most days it doesn't matter. I smile so sincerely that I believe it myself, that everything is good and will be alright. The days that I lose hope and face reality are the days that I feel like I am betraying myself, my children and the one's I love most.
I am not desperate. Yet, my despair is real. It's tangible. And sometimes it is overwhelming.
6 pm tonight I will go and pick up my children from their father's and start the process all over again, buring these feelings for the moment. Until they crop up again.
Pray and have faith. Sometimes that is all I have. The deep down belief that everything happens for a reason and at the end of the day, all will be right with the world. And pretending for just a moment that a new hair color and cut can change my outlook and hope on life.
What do you do with the cards and letters you receive? Do you keep them all, just keep the photos, throw them away?
Inspired by jacolily.
Depends on who they are from. Or if it was interesting. I have cool postcards from all over the world that I will never part with... then there are special meaningful cards from friends... and pictures I have a seriously hard time parting with, so I have shoeboxes full of them. But just random birthday cards and stuff usually end up in the trash. If it's meaningful or interesting or from someone special they get kept in various shoeboxes in my closet.
What's on your holiday wishlist?
Well, outside of my Dear Santa list that I posted last week... I'd really like to gain introspection and clarity about my life... so that 2008 will be a year of joy and success, rather than emotional turmoil.
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