Monday, February 11, 2019

Suit up, Hope

I haven't written because I have been in the trenches living my life.  Turns out I may have been on the sidelines of a carefully crafted lie.  A beautiful sand castle that was slowly washing away despite our frantic efforts to save it.

Our big beautiful house.  Our seemingly charmed life.  All made of sand.  Falling away.

I am now trapped in the place between owning all that has happened and hiding from it.  On one hand I feel so much pride in knowing how far we have come and the other hand is so ashamed of where we had been.

I haven't posted since we moved and I wonder why. I dream about writing.  I start posts (literally dozens of them) but can't bring myself to publish.  Finally after three solid snow days of musing I think I know why.

I can only write with confidence about the past.  About the has been.  I can only write with confidence about the present, "the now" when I can be certain of the outcome.  I can only write with confidence when I can edit and carve and carefully craft the story I want to tell.  The clean version, the PhotoShopped beauty shot. 

In this new life there is no edited version.  I am certain of nothing.  The unknowns that I kept at a great distance before have found me and overwhelmed me. 

Will he have a job?  Will we get a paycheck?  Will the truck start?  Will we keep the house?  Scary answers to scary questions. 

There was no job for 6 months.  There was no paycheck for much longer.  The truck didn't start and the bills are looming.  Past financial demons still haunt us and the nest egg is dwindled down to nothing. 

He lost his job in May.  We lived on my salary until Thanksgiving when he purchased a new business that did not produce a paycheck until the New Year.  It's been hard.  We are not out of the woods by a long shot.

For me, the fear of the unknown is so much scarier when it catches you off guard.

When the terrifying things that wake you in the middle of the night have already happened, the fall to rock bottom's basement isn't nearly as scary.  This notion is my motivation for keeping all of my worries close at hand.  I lay awake at night and panic silently, running through various scenarios of terror until I succumb to exhaustion and fall into a fitful sleep.

There is no rest for the weary, I understand now.

My love dares to hope.  He dreams and wishes and makes plans for sunnier days.  I lack the ability to join him.  I am tied to fear.

I lay under my 25lb. weighted anxiety blanket and plan for the worst.  He sleeps deeply under lighter covers and dreams of days in Disney World.  I can't join him there.  Hope is scary to me because it lifts you up.  The fall is farther from high up in the dreamers realm.  More dangerous, more frightening. 

If I dare not to worry, if I dare to hope for better days what will happen if they don't come. 

What I am learning is that all the fear and anxiety in the world can't stop the bad stuff from happening.  It happens.  The only thing the fear and anxiety do is rob you of the moments between.

So suit up, Hope.  Anxiety, I'm putting you on the bench. 

(Published, only partially edited.  I pray for limited readership...maybe my mom, sister, an aunt or two, a handful of cousins and me...I pray that I'll read this and be certain that hope wasn't so scary after all.)

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