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15 May 2006

I used to worry about a lot. I would worry about missing out on "things" and "this" and "that" - those once tangible things that held such great importance to me that I didn't know how I would ever go on without them. Funny how now they are reduced to simply this and that. Nameless. Nameless things were once important. But I am learning to know better.

An old friend of mine turned 30 today. We hadn't talked in about 2 1/2 years and I had stood up at her wedding. She's in the process of getting divorced.

"I don't know, Andrea. It's just all, well, it's all fucked up. Seriously, my god, where do I start? Do you know how long it's been since I've dated?"

I know I said. It's not easy. It's fresh and clean and new and scary and required her to put herself out there. And not that she was damaged goods by any means, but she was a bit tender and slightly bruised. She wasn't ready for a big up or a big down. She was ready for a change, she just wasn't sure on how big of one right now. I told her not to worry, things would settle into place. It's like water. No matter what kind of rocky nonesense it's flowing over, it always manages to find balance, to lay perfectly even when it comes to rest.

When I was 26 I was pregnant. I was working in the middle of nowhere and I remember sitting on the edge of the bathtub and watching the little stick turn pink. A lot of the details are fuzzy to me now, because time does that, but I remember that I felt fear that wasn't scary. It was overwhelming and lofty and great and there was no way that I could hold it all together to store it safely in my pocket. But it didn't frighten me. It was like looking at a puzzle and knowing that, eventually, you could get through it, but for right now, you had no idea. No idea of how to begin it, let alone try to find a process through the whole thing. It was life that was bigger than life. I was the starring role but could only wrap my head around a bit part. I had a miscarriage a few weeks later.

I've always believed in things unseen. I believed in God and love and things eternal. I believed that all things happen for a reason. And I guess I still believe that, but not the same way. I don't know how to explain the change, I just know that it's there. Different. Something broke inside me that day. It shattered and became irrepairable. But that something became stronger and picked up the slack. I can't have regrets because they would eat me alive. And that's just not acceptable. I can't live on the hangups of yesterday. Learn. Move on. Keep living.

So I talked to my friend tonight. We laughed and wondered about how much had changed and how all those changes brought us within arms reach, or atleast right-around-the-corner, of where we once came from. Life is funny that way. It reminds me to watch carefully where I tread day to day because I may be back this very way.

The heart has reasons which the reason cannot understand.

Blaise Pascal


Jeni Paij said...

Thank you. - PA

Jen said...

Beautiful post. I love the way you write.

Bridget said...

Regrets do eat people alive don't they? Good for you for not letting them do that. And big giant internet hugs.


Broken Angel said...

Your friend is very lucky to know you, as are we all. We have so much in common, and in saying that it makes me think of how much all of us women have in common, and how our experiences help us to bond and heal, and grow. ;)A

Pamela said...

Wonderful post. Regrets do eat you alive, don't they? I try not to have any either. I lost two babies to miscarriages, and the pain was sharp. It's dulled somewhat over the years, and if I allow myself to dwell on it, it can come back and hurt all over again.

Looking forward and believing in something bigger and stronger than yourself is the way I've chosen to go.

Thanks for making me think this morning.

Ms Dare2dv8 said...

thanks for dropping in :)

Suz said...

I have missed you, my dear. I missed your honesty. It's good to read this again. Hope unpacking is going well!!