You know, there’s always the straw that breaks you. The last two weeks have dealt that hand. Normally a voice inside me starts a loop of positivity to counter the melancholy from setting in. Not this time. It seems like pieces of my heart and soul are strewn about; and this time, I’m letting them sit there. 

I haven’t the strength to pick it all up and put it back together. They can sit a while. I am careful not to let my energy poison the space around me. I put on a smile for work and mandatory activities then come home and go to bed. I sleep so much my roommate calls me a koala bear. I argue it’s more sloth-like but you know, whatever. I try to minimize the damage I do to just myself. 

And maybe, it’s possible, that I’m not actually doing damage. Maybe doing nothing is actually productive. I don’t think so, it doesn’t feel that way, but the world doesn’t make a lot of sense to me anyway. I don’t understand it at all. I don’t know how you can love and turn out to be 100% wrong in doing so. Not to mention, this is the latest in a series of mistakes the last few years. Ones that really cut to the core of who I am. After age 30, the damage doesn’t heal the same. I believed in him, supported him, and….I thought it was real. I was wrong. I’m giving up on thinking I even know what love is from this point forward. Clearly, I do not. 

They scooped a tiny bit of my thigh. They are going to scoop a bigger portion in a couple of weeks. And then, it felt like a giant, cold, metal old timey ice cream scoop took a part of my heart. Some point in the wee hours of this morning, it all overwhelmed me. I just didn’t have the energy to keep going. What more can possibly be thrown my way? I know, it’s a horrible day of agonizing self-pity and zero optimism. You’ll have those days. This is mine. 

And then I heard a bird start chirping outside. I wanted to yell at the bird and ask what it is so damn happy about. But I thought about it and maybe the bird isn’t happy. Maybe his chirp isn’t joy. How do we know what he’s saying? Maybe he’s out there yelling that his heart hurts too and he doesn’t understand why he has to be the only bird around. Maybe he needs some help over at his nest and none of the other birds are there. It’s just a thought. 

13-ish hours later or so I’m still here and it’s totally silent. The bright sunshine is fading away and the only noise is the sound of my breath and the fan blowing on me.  Lord, trust me y’all when I tell you I hate the victim card and I hate the dark times that crush my heart. I detest them. They bring out the ugly in me. I’m just so tired of going uphill! I need a break. I am a good person. The last few years have challenged and changed me. I don’t understand why things just can’t stay on track for a while. 

I want somebody to love, a wee bit of security, to feel like my faith in something bigger isn’t meaningless, and to share all things joyous and wonderful. I guess it’s too much to ask. With each tearful goodbye, I close up a bit more. Life is scooping what’s left of me out little by little.  

I came home from work, put on shorts and started taking pictures of my thigh. See:

 
Ignore the dirty room. Or judge me. Whatever. 

I just want to remember what it looks like now because in a few weeks it will be chopped up, and–because of my skin tone being generally pasty–there is likely to forever be a scar where the bandaid is. The biopsy on what lies beneath the bandaid was “severely atypical” and so, they have to cut more out. Carve it out until they get to normal cells. 

And I’m angry, sad, brave, and hopeful. All at once. The emotions ricochet around all over the map right now. It could be worse. This I know. It’s quite likely we caught it in time and I’ll be fine. At the same time, it’s never the answer you want to hear. Why? Why now?! All was well. Life was going okay. I know I’ll wear a scar like the badass I am…and I’ll get through it like a champ. Cause that’s what I do isn’t it? Through all that life has thrown, haven’t I come out on top? 

When I left work (before the thigh photo shoot), I was greeted by a beautiful purple sunset. 

See:  

 
And I got in my car and started crying as I drove home. Purple is my favorite color. And I didn’t know if I was happy or sad. It felt like a gift from God telling me all was well. Like it was custom made for me. (There’s no filter on that FYI.) But I couldn’t help but be a little terrified. 

And I needed a sign from above. Because truth is for 24 hours all I needed to hear were those three little words and to not feel like I’m about to go to battle against the C word alone. Kudos to the friends who knew before this and have sent prayers and words of kindness. Without you, surely I would crumble.

I can take it. Hell, I always do. And if you’ll excuse the emotions and give me a minute to get my bearings, I’ll come out happier and more beautiful than ever. Cause that’s how I do it. Every damn time. But until then, excuse the mess. 

I think the men and women who allow themselves to feel whatever it is they feel and express it are the strongest of our species. I’m not talking crazy or angry; but when they hurt, they cry. They weep. They allow themselves the moment to actually honor what’s going on and sort through it. It may feel vulnerable but it’s actually so incredibly powerful. It’s the highest expression of self esteem I can think of right now. 

I wish I was like that. I wait until it builds up and then I cry. All the while a voice in my head is saying, “suck it up, buttercup. No need to get this worked up about anything. This isn’t worth it…” and on and on and on that voice goes. Naming a litany of reasons I should just never cry or feel strongly about anything. Look voice in my head, some things just hurt ok? And sometimes I need to sort it all out.

I wonder how it got that way. I think the voice telling me to ‘get over it’ and ‘nothing is worth my tears’ has been there a long time. Probably since Italy, but for sure since Chloe had to go. The day Chloe left was my last real sob. Maybe that baby girl just took a piece of my heart with her. I still remember being immobilized by grief that day. And with the blows that followed, I just had to be strong for fear I wouldn’t make it if I caved and looked too deeply in the eyes of what caused me pain. 

Hard times followed. But this morning it’s an odd crying. An involuntary thing. My eyes filled with tears and that voice started in again telling me to just suck it up—get on Facebook, smoke a cigarette, take a sleeping pill–anything to not deal. But I need to deal. Because today it was Sadie’s face and birds chirping and then…tear drops. I want to experience them. It was a sad/happy moment. I wanted to soak it in yet I’m underslept and exhausted. I wanted to tell the Universe how beautiful the chaos is and how the simplest things move me so much…an admirers hand on your back or around your waist, my friends/mentors making me laugh and knowing they care, a giant, heartfelt laugh from the belly, a shared look between friends that says I can count on them and vice versa. In all the tragedy and emotional tornadoes, life gives us these moments in between. Thinking of them this morning has my cheeks tear stained. 

It’s a crazy beautiful life and I’m not anywhere near done. Please God, hear the prayers inside my tears and let me have many, many more years. I have music, poetry, books and love inside me that needs to come to fruition. Thank you for giving me this day. Please let me share it with people who love me and those I love.  Grant me the ability to permit myself to experience the absolute joy of life on this day and all that follow.