I just had a three hour conversation with a friend of mine who I have known since we were 3 years old. She has always been an uplifting, positive and guiding force in my life. We talk about anything and everything. We ‘go deep’ to the places not everyone can stomach or hear and we expand each others’ views on ourselves, choices and lives.
I want authenticity. I want organic evolution. I want my life to have meaning and depth above anything else. And I really think it does. For better or for worse, my life will always have meaning because of where I have been, how I have soldiered through and how fiercely I want to be better. I don’t want to stay lost in those dark woods I talked about a few weeks ago. The woods themselves don’t carry enough badness to make me want to give up, but the ‘lost’ part almost did. Feeling helpless to find my way was crippling. It was taxing. It was thoroughly draining. Somehow, I have managed to find an outlet to guide me. This Blog O’Mine.
Writing has become a necessity. Feeling my way through all of this is actually healing me. It’s making me more powerful. I feel that power in a very, very visceral way. I feel my face form a knowing and even slightly seductive smile because I am getting though this and when I’m done getting through I am going to be a force to be reckoned with. I don’t know if that sounds arrogant or narcissistic, but it feels true. It feels right. It feels like my life has been moving and bending and shifting and falling apart and fucking me up to specifically get me to this place.
This place. Kind of interesting that I phrased it like that. The opening paragraphs of my memoir mention ‘this place’ too. At the time I first wrote those words I was about 4 months into knowing my birth parents. I was floating on the pink cloud of euphoria. I was overwhelmed 24/7 and blindly hopeful for the future. A future I hoped consisted of a sustained relationship with them. Back then I was consumed with the fucking drug of learning my biological beginnings. It took me 34 years to be able to find them. I didn’t really think about what might happen when/if I did actually find them.
When it happened, when I made contact, I thought I had finally, finally reached a ‘place’ of unending joy and brilliant clarity. Then reality inevitably took control and all the hope and happiness I had started to cling to slipped through my fingers and was gone. It was just…..gone. The first few weeks and months were giddy and excited and full of smiles, laughter and hope. Meals and secrets shared and love expressed. Hugs and tears and repressed memories. All of us were reeling. All of us were swooning. Understandably so. Then. It shifted. They rekindled something between each other that I couldn’t be a part of. I said things I shouldn’t have. And they….chose each other over me and walked away from me.
‘This place’ became a wasteland. Three weeks later my mother was diagnosed with multiple myeloma – a blood and bone marrow cancer that is incurable. She is my only remaining nuclear family member. My birth parents had literally just abandoned me for the second time and now I had to face down cancer for my mother. ‘This place’ was fucking bullshit back then. Seriously.
But now. Blessedly, now…..’this place’ is………………………………………….mine.
It’s not about a man who is broken or trying to save my dead brother. It’s not about a pair of 50 something’s who never evolved past their teens because they had a lust-filled relationship in high school which resulted in a baby neither of them could care for. It also is not about trying to save my sweet, needy, special and sick mother who has never been on her own; who wants nothing but to see her daughter happy and stable with a ‘nice man to take care of her’ (those are her words, not mine).
The place I have surreptitiously arrived at is….fucking exactly where I need to be. I work really hard everyday to be content – at least partially, but more and more it’s completely – with my life and more importantly, myself. I have spent way too much time looking for something outside of myself to be the cure. I’m invested in not doing that anymore and my old friend told me today that she could hear the power of the inner strength I have been cultivating.
I fucking needed to hear that. And I’m so thankful I did. Today was a good day….I’m still drinking (for those who are wondering) but it has entirely less control over me than it used to. I’m the one who calls the shots nowadays. And that, to me, is a revelation.