Wow, I’m falling behind in a big way. Please accept my apologies which come accompanied by an unceremonious kick (more of gentle shove) to my bony arse. A promise is, after all, a promise. Thing is, I’m struggling to do everything I’ve promised to do, and include a few things I’d like to do. How do I fit it all in?
Well, the first thing that pops into the ole noggin is that I need to stop my long-practiced tradition of avoidance, or uber-procrastination if you prefer. That means cutting out distractions like trolling on social media sites, and playing Candy Crush into the wee small hours. Ooh, a sloth just appeared on top of those thought bubbles. Drat. While I LOVE them, I must not BE one. Oh, the anguish of good-byes! And speaking of good-byes, they can be pretty addictive. Really? Yep, like anything we do, we can become hypnotized by the feelings attached to an act and seek to replicate the experience even if it is destroying us.
In my case, I was introduced to good-byes at a pre-conscious awareness stage. Those who read my blog faithfully, savouring each nugget of wisdom and humour filled anecdote within its luxurious prose, (ahem) know I am an adoptee. From the get go and through to around my thirtieth birthday, life was littered with good-byes. They virtually stopped, thank heavens, after I buried my father.
Of course, there were hellos, too. I was not a hermit. But did those endings, and the feelings evoked by them, become a type of addiction? Was there a sub-conscious desire to replicate those experiences in my everyday life because I expected them, or because I thought they were necessary somehow? My life thus far would suggest “yes” is the answer to that question, which makes me shudder. My goodness, expressing my life based on good-byes. How horribly tragic. How sad. The good news is I have caught it, and can, therefore, change it.
Over the past few years, I’ve jammed in a load of good-byes. They differed from the foundational ones because they weren’t permanent, even if at first, I reacted to them that way. In retrospect, I can see what I was doing. Currently, I can see I am in the process of changing responses. More, and more, I see that “hello” remains possible in every instance. Once again, it’s about perspective and, of course, changing my story accordingly.
Let me be clear, though. When I talk about telling a new story, I’m not devising a fictional narrative. A new spin should not deny or attempt to eradicate an event. The unfathomable pain my birth mother surely felt when she handed me to strangers, is as real as the feelings and images embedded in me via my infantile senses. The memory of painted and powdered faces adorned in their Sunday best at “repose” on ecru coloured satin leaves me as cold as the bodies inside those coffins, and their loss will forever be felt. But, and this is where it gets really good, I can alter add some sweet to the bitter.
If in my mind I hold that woman close to me, I hear a barely perceptible heartbeat, a sound shared only between mother and child. In the stillness, I feel her blood pulsing. Her rhythmic breathing soothes me. There is oneness and magic in this intangible memory that takes my breath away, and with it, the sadness of a forever farewell.
And so, it is with all the past’s goodbyes. I can recall the laughter and the fights. I can choose to see only love and life in all of it. I can choose to write a new story that encompasses the good-byes, while still saying hello.
Today I wish for the strength and presence of mind I need to embrace everything in my crazy, wild, messed up life on this tumultuous, glorious, chaotic, and sometimes scary-as-heck planet. I am as equally lost as I am found. I am flawed perfection. My wealth knows no bounds, my love is unconditional. I seek with relentless hope, a divine peace, a gracious prosperity, and joy for us all. Not too much to ask because I believe with every fibre of my being that our potential is limitless. So there!