I have never been hit or beaten. Never felt the pangs of hunger when there is no food on the table or the helpless feeling of not knowing where I will make my bed at night. I have never known the depths of despair that a child felt before he chose to end his life nor have I known the consequences of violent actions so evil that there is no turning back from them.
I have, however, been used; been savored in the mouth of the opportunist before being spit out for the world to witness just how powerful a man’s jaws can be. I have, however, felt the sting of a biological father who walked away so completely that when he died his new family knew so little of me that my name was wrong in the obituary. I have, however, lived the horror that is a Sunday night phone call that begins with the words “Your brother just killed himself”; and then felt the confusion and anger when that statement proves wrong; he did no such thing, and after a suspended investigation, someone literally got away with murder.
Because I am human, I could allow this list to go on and on. There is no shortage of tragedy in this life and I, like every other person, will never be immune to it. Some of the tragedies were of my own making, some were of my own misplaced trust, and some were of drunken ignorance. But all, ALL of them were valuable. The person I am today is far greater than the person I was when any of these things, or countless others, happened. The person I am today is because I was at one point young, or stupid, or vulnerable, or sick. In the end, though, no matter what I have been in the moment, I have always remained alive. Something happened inside of me when I saw all of the life Kevin brought to this world ended instantly by a single, tiny bullet. Something happened inside of me after brain surgery that resulted in my body lying unresponsive for days, my family helpless and terrified. Something happened to me at the end of a marriage that, in hindsight, was doomed before vows were ever spoken.
I have a long list of things of which I should not be proud, choices that were so ill-conceived they should never be spoken of again. But, one of those things that happened inside of me is the realization that without all the pain, stupidity, and helplessness I never would have started the journey to become who I am still becoming. I am not ashamed of where I have been and I am not afraid of what I am to become. I will not stop talking about my embarrassing past because I am not embarrassed. I embrace every moment of this life I have lived and will continue to live; because it is mine, and mine alone.
Another’s judgment does not scare me. What scares me is having all these lessons piled around my feet after years of living with nothing to show for them. What scares me is failing my children by failing myself. What scares me is becoming disingenuous out of a fear that has no right to invade my personal journey. My story will be written by me, and I will continue to fill the pages of that story with as many silly jokes, girlish crushes, solo living room dance parties, dorky moments, and hugs of children as I possibly can. The way I see it now, now that something has been happening inside of me, is that the more of these there are, the less space there is for all the other.
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