This path winds.
Inching through life as a half, trying to morph myself into a singular whole. The path to here on isn’t easily seen. It curves, and twists and even forks. Deciding which way my feet should point is a process that can only be described as disheartening.
My courage wanes and flows as the moon circles about my head. As the sun rises and sets my emotions bounce, the night forcing me to experience a new kind of darkness for myself. By myself.
Each day I wake up and put on my courage like earrings lying on the bathroom counter. Sometimes it’s been flung there, available. Other days it’s nowhere to be found, and I’m forced to hunt.
Each footstep is thoughtful. I can’t move without considering implications from every direction. Where will this decision take me? Will this decision affect my boys? What is in the best interest of the family?
What is in the best interest of me? Can I even ask that question right now? I am a mother. My boys need protection and a mother who can lead…even if leading is with courage feigned.
Fake it till I make it. It’s the new story of my life.
Anxiety is new for me. After losing Ryan I woke up months after vomiting, wrapped in the agony of the unknown. Although the physical implications of this have waned, emotionally the anxiety still floats in my chest, squashed only by my determination to move forward.
Stepping, stepping, stepping.
I watch others walk through life without even a thoughtful glance at the sidewalk in front of them. I envy that they can feel so free. A quiet jealousy looms in my heart, knowing if they mess up they have their other half to catch them.
I’ve been falling for almost two years now. Catching oneself isn’t easy.
But I will my chin to lift and I force my feet to move regardless. Gaining momentum from decisions I don’t even know are the right ones…but ones that have been made, so I walk towards them anyway.
All the while listening to the words echo in my ears, “Everything will be ok.”
Because when you have children, anything less than ok is not an option.
Forging myself into a new whole, growing an identity I do not want…hurts. But we all know it’s the compressive forging that eventually yields beauty, and even more than that, a final product.
I’m still being shaped. I’ll endure that shaping while harnessing my faith in that final product.
The future me is somewhere down that windy path. I’ll journey to the magnificence that is her…one day at a time.
One step at a time.
One minute at a time.
One second at a time.
One agonizing decision at a time.
I will find her. And when I do she will thank me…and we’ll come together as that whole…
And know it wasn’t all for nothing.