Getting Lost

Today I took some chances, adventured out, and even got lost. I didn’t realize that I was seeking the sea until I was already on my way towards it. I did something I’ve never done before: I began to drive without knowing my destination. I just drove. Years ago I remember traveling with a friend who used to take me on “spirit journeys,” where he would just drive wherever the “spirit” led him. I felt sort of like that today as I drove, getting myself hopelessly lost in the process (but then again…can anyone really ever be lost in this world of GPS’s and iPhones?).

Eventually, I somehow ended up exactly where I wanted to be: Sandbridge. I hadn’t really been aware that this was my end destination, but yet here it was, and here I was.

I took off my shoes and shuffled through the damp sand. It was raining and I was still wearing my new dress, but I didn’t care. I walked up and down on the beach, probably looking like an oddity in my church dress, and a loner. But again, I didn’t care.

At one point, I ventured too far towards the water and an icy wave (which I had greatly underestimated) swept up and tried to bring me down in its cold caress. I jumped back, but it was too late. I was already soaked from the waist down. But even this time, I didn’t care.

When I had soaked in enough of the sand and the waves (although I still wonder if one can ever have enough), I trudged back to my car and did another thing that I’ve never done before: drive home barefooted. I can actually see my mother rolling her eyes as she reads this.

All of these things, from getting lost to walking in the rain and getting my dress wet, are all things that would have bothered me before and made me either panic or fret over. But today none of that seemed to matter anymore, if it ever really did.

I think that I’ve been a barrier to my own happiness for so long that I forgot how to be carefree, if I ever really even knew. Life isn’t about “don’t-walk-in-the-rain-you-will-catch-a-cold” rules or “always-know-where-you-are-going” suggestions, because sometimes you discover some of the best things when you think you are lost. And sometimes, we all just need a cleansing rain.

Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

I’ve been told all of my life that happiness is a choice. Today I think I finally understand what that really means because I’ve been striving all day to be happy. It was hard work, but do you know what? I had a pretty good day.

During these happy moments that I have, my mind is full of lovely things like ballet slippers, charcoal drawings, and snippets of poetry. I’ve been seeking out beautiful things all day. That is why I was so wonderfully surprised when I stumbled upon this:

He told her he was moving on

 But he had nothing better to gain

 She felt broken, joy all but gone

 But her tears were drying in the rain

My friend Kirk wrote this. He said these words had been circling around in his head all day, so he had to write them down. I’m so glad that he did. He didn’t intend it for me, but I claimed it for myself anyway, because they are beautiful, and I can feel them.

 

In the same vein, a year or so ago, I auditioned for a play in which my audition was to simply read aloud the poem “Hope” by Emily Dickinson. The first stanza says:

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,

And never stops at all,

I didn’t understand it then, but I think that I do now. Hope is this feathered, living thing that resides in all of us. And even when we feel like things are at their worst, when there is nothing left in this life to live for, Hope sings out a wordless song to remind us to hold on. On my bad days, I mean on my really dark days, I can still hear this feathered little imp singing softly within me. It peeps ever so slightly, with notes that are barely audible, but it is still there. It still sings. I still sing.

I have chosen to be happy.

Make-Up

He made her feel beautiful when she wore no make-up and yoga pants. She put her eyeliner and mascara away and for the first time in her life didn't even miss them.

But now, she's alone and feels like there is no beauty left. Bright red lipstick, blush, and cat-eyes are all she has now as she tries desperately to feel pretty again.

She goes about her day with a smile, and even her boss says she is beautiful, but the words are as hollow as the emptiness within her soul. If she could cry out inside, there would be an echo.

"No more happy thoughts... Lost..." are the words from some childhood movie that play over and over in her head as she comes home from yet another day. She sits on the floor in a dark room and cries bitterly.

Trained by so many directors and dance instructors, few have ever really seen her this way. She shares the only way she knows how: with her words, her pencil, her computer.

If only she could share with the one person she wants. If only she could reach out to the one who once made her feel beautiful.

Now, so many colors of make-up run down her cheeks. Clean it up, honey. Tomorrow you must face The world again. And someday it will all be better, but today is not that day.

Unhappy, But Not Un-Joyful

Two weeks. Two weeks without him. It seems so short, doesn’t it? Not to me it doesn’t. To me, I’ve spent ten years in those two weeks. I’ve ached, I’ve grown, I’ve learned, I’ve been angry, I’ve been weak( oh so weak), and I’ve cried…then I cried some more.

But I’ve realized something. I’ve been so unhappy, but I’ve not been un-joyful. In those two weeks, the outpouring of love showered upon me by friends and family alike has been marvelous. Some of the people who have been able to help me the most were even people that I barely knew before. In the words of one friend (I hope he won’t mind me quoting him…or rather misquoting him): “I would be a jerk to know you are suffering and not reach out to help.” Wow. We had barely even met before, and here he became one of my chief comforters.

I am so thankful for my family who reached out to me daily and wrote me encouraging notes. This meant so much to me, especially in the wake of losing the people who had come to be my “Virginia Beach family.” And then there are the girlfriends who fielded frantic, hysterical, midnight calls from me and were somehow able to talk me down. There has even been one friend who I now realize has been there for me in just about all of my toughest adult-life troubles. As our friendship has grown and matured, so has the love that I feel for him.

And here I sit, on the evening after my graduation, pondering the last two weeks of hell. I still cry, and I still feel lonely, but I can’t help but see all of the good that didn’t just appear because of my adversity; it was there all along, I just has been too caught up in life to really see it. Now it is magnified, and I can’t even count all of the true friends that I have or the real relationships that I have cultivated. In losing one person, I came to the realization that there are so many more relationships in my life that aren’t going to go away, so many people who will never simply give up and stop loving just because times get hard.

The simple fact that I had family and friends who not only took the time to make the four hour drive, spend the money for the weekend, but also brave the rain to simply watch me graduate tells me that there really are relationships out there that are strong enough to stand the strain, emotion, and drama that are simply…me. These people don’t just take me at my best, when I am shining and cheerful, but at my worst, when the tears stream down my face and I’m crying out for help.

If you have taken the time to actually read this syrupy dribble without closing the tab, then you must be among one of the people mentioned above and I would like to tell you that I count you among my choicest friends and relationships.

I love you. Goodnight.