Then the clock radio came on and woke me up and the folks at NPR were making a bad pun about putting on boots and wading into the pledge pool.
I have never been so disappointed at 6 in the morning in my entire life.
Confession: I did not watch the entire presidential debate the other night because my mother called halfway through and I burst into tears. Sometimes your mom calls just when you need to act like a big baby.
I think the gist of my refrain to her was, "I'm just so disappointed."
The following day, in the course of my work for one of my three jobs, I ended up on the phone with a woman who told me about some major health issues she has. I'm going to be vague on the details here, but she is my age and most of us can only imagine what it has been like for her to go through three major life-threatening events. She told me about how she was trying to do something positive for herself, her husband by her side to help her, but it just hadn't worked out.
Then she burst into tears. (As I told a friend yesterday, sometimes a girl just needs a good cry.)
After a few minutes, she started apologizing to me. I said, "Do not apologize. I do not want you to apologize to me. You're disappointed! It's completely understandable. You wanted something good to come out of this and you're disappointed. So you can cry to me all day if it helps."
In the past, I might have called this a God moment. I might have bought into a somewhat narcissistic notion that God was trying to send me a message about being grateful for my health and for all the wonderful things I have.
I don't know that I believe in that sort of thing anymore. It's something I may write about someday, this journey of faith or lack thereof, when I figure out what I want to say about it.
For now, I know that I do believe in our human ability to open our eyes and see what is around us. I believe in listening. More than ever I believe that we could improve our lives and the world if we simply listened to others. Listen. Learn. Love one another.
I don't really have the answers, though. The truth is that when I consider all the people in the world who are disappointed, who need to cry, I can become very disheartened and cynical. I wonder what the point is.
One day, Tina sent me an email about how she'd just seen a woman sitting in a car in the grocery store parking lot and the woman was sobbing.
"There's just so much pain in the world," Tina wrote.
Tina and I email each other almost every day about whatever is going on. We bitch. We make jokes. We send crock pot recipes. Tina sends me songs. I send her names of books. In fact, I'm taking a stack of books to her this weekend. Taking books to Tina is one of my favorite things.
Most importantly, Tina and I listen to one another.
Lately, I've been thinking about the trick to accepting disappointment without allowing it to steal your hope. (In my ongoing inner dialogue, this is where I consider hope's connection to faith. This is where I consider my God questions.)
Hope is a beautiful and powerful thing. It is a joyful thing. It is light against the darkness.
Sometimes it slips away and you're left wondering how the hell you're supposed to find your way in a world that is so full of pain.
Confession: I have not written a letter to a literary agent in six months.
I keep saying that I am only taking a break from the cycle of hope and disappointment. I have to say this so it won't feel like I'm giving up.
Confession: Having Nathan Fillion as my boyfriend is the closest I've come to considering the idea of having a boyfriend in more than three years.
I keep saying that I am only taking a break from the cycle of hope and disappointment. I have to say this so it won't feel like I'm giving up.
Confession: My job at the Phone Call Factory™ makes me feel like a loser. This is unfair to the numerous, amazing coworkers I have. But they are all 15 years or more younger than me so I hope they understand. They're just starting out. I am nearly 40 and have fallen behind. That's what it feels like anyway. A coworker came in the other day and said she saw a photo of me in the magazine I used to work for, in a story where I spent a week at a well-known fitness retreat. She said, "I showed everyone around and said, 'I know her! I know her!'" I wanted to cry a little.
Tina and my mother both have promised to slap me this weekend, Ouiser Boudreaux-style, to snap me out of my little cry-baby ego-fest. Because that's what it is: me and my ego having a little disappointment party up in here. I have cognitive dissonance in that I believe I am worthwhile and talented and kind, while I also believe I am a loser and untalented and a bitch. Actually, all these things could be true at the same time, couldn't they?
Confession: Sometimes I blame Charles.
Confession: Sometimes I wish he was alive so I could yell at him.
Confession: Sometimes I think about how dark it must have been for him at the end and it makes me more determined to shine some fucking light on all the things that threaten my hope or the hope of those I love.
Confession: I curse too much. But you already knew that.
Tomorrow, we're going to walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I am in complete love with everyone who has donated and everyone who is participating and everyone who has supported me and Kate and Jacob through kind words and encouragement. This matters. This world is full of pain but it's full of all of us, too. And we all listen and love and learn.
And we laugh a lot.Confession: That's my favorite part.
My mom ordered T-shirts for us to wear during the walk. She called a few weeks ago and said, "I have an idea that we should put on it the words to the song Charles used to sing to wake everyone up."
So in the morning we'll get up, put on our shirts and we'll walk.
Confession: I think that's a pretty damn good thing.
It's the sort of thing that gives me hope.
Do Your Part
If you'd like to join the Shreveport Out of the Darkness walk or make a donation, visit this Web site.
If you'd like to participate in the Birmingham walk on November 4, go here.
To find events across the country, go here.
Whatever you do, get up. Get up. The sun is up.
0 comments:
Post a Comment