“Hahahah good luck”-life, mostly.
It was a long couple of weeks, and an even longer weekend last weekend. My heart was shattered with the passing of my Grandma B. My heart was angry and comforted at the same time with the notion that her and Lil would be together again. They had such a special relationship, even with 85 years between them. I drove out to BC on Saturday morning to help my family prepare for the funeral and to spend as much time as I could loving on my grandpa B and my step dad, Rene. But Because life isn’t fair, because things don’t go as planned, wrenches were thrown and my heart was occupied twice. By death and by fear of a different loss. but as the weekend and early week unfolded I was able to separate the two and allow my self to confront death intimately for the first time since it ripped my entire life from my arms. I came back to Cochrane lonely. To be honest, I left lonely, but I came back worse. I packed up my things on Wednesday morning along with the pieces that I had become, at my mom and s.Dad’s home, my home, and I drove 9 long hours to a place I didn’t want to go. I would have given the world to stay. If I could have somehow made it happen I wouldn’t have come back this time. But to make that happen I would have had to somehow get my wonderful apartment, incredible employers and sister and nephew to come too. And that was as impossible as impossible gets.
As I made my way up to my little home I felt like I was dragging my heart behind me, made of Asgardian metal and I was not worthy. I barely made it through the one day of work I had before the long weekend and I came home and slept.
I’m trying. I kept telling myself. I’m trying and it’s not working. I’m trying and it’s just getting harder. I sat in a pool of my own self pity because I had an emotional overload and I couldn’t pull myself from this pit of self loathing and grief.
I felt like I had let everyone down. Like I didn’t do enough, I didn’t say enough, but mostly that I just wasn’t enough.
What grand plan?
“We’re a slave to money then we die” (the everlasting wisdom of The Verve)
We have this one short life and I seem to make difficult situations more difficult or taint happiness of those around me with pain. How do I continue to do that when I try. I am trying.
It felt like no matter what I did or tried to do, that I would never be good enough. And no one made me feel that way but myself.
On Saturday I spent the day alone. I got some organizing done, some housekeeping, and some much-needed binge watching.
There was only one thing I was leaving the house for that day, patio furniture, Adirondack chairs to be precise. I wasn’t going to let the summer go by without enjoying my balcony that is practically the same size as my entire house so I threw on my jays hat and went to Home Depot (seriously though, 18.00 per chair, lots of colours, and you can get cushions for 30.00-comfortable, durable, versatile. They are the perfect summer chair-who should I bill for the promo?)
I went in, found the chairs, picked out the cushions, purchased and left. I got to my car, folded the back seats down and opened the trunk.
I tried every angle from the trunk first. Upside down, right side up, left side right side friggen diagonal. No go.
So I tried from the side doors. I couldn’t get the base in. So I smashed. I pushed and pulled and forced. I all but hulked on these stupid plastic pieces of non fitting shit and nothing would work. So with sweat dripping down my back and panic rising up my throat I did what every grown ass adult does; I called my Mom.
At first she laughed. Because, she’s my mom. I sternly said I’m definitely not seeing the humour and then together we troubleshooted. The thing with my mom is that she knows I’ll figure it out. She knows I’ll panic, but if she can talk me off the ledge she knows I’ll figure it out, so we went through all the options and then the idea of the front door came to mind (I had thought about it earlier but there was a car super close to mine so I filed it in my mind palace as “not an option”but now that the car was gone, I thought out loud, maybe I can get them in.)
So I put the phone down, but didn’t dare to hang up, and got one in. Hallelujah the patio gods have blessed me with one chair making it home. So I told my mom and said I had an idea to get both in there. She said great! Let me know!
So I hung up with my new sense of confidence and attempted to get two in at the same Time. Now, here’s what’s been going through my head from the first moment I tried to get them in the car:
“Okay.. That’s not going to work”
“Maybe.. Nope not that either..”
“Totally fine, I’ll figure it out. It’s just, like, physics or whatever.”
“Okay… Running out of fucking options.”
“Seriously???? I just wanted to have a friggen place outside I could ENJOY myself is that too much to ask???”
*called mom, figured out one chair*
“Okay if I stack them then both should fit”
“Why the actual hell won’t these both fit??”
“Omg I can’t get them out. Now I can’t get them in or effing out?? Cool. Cool cool cool. Guess I’m just leaving these stupid chairs in the parking lot for someone else IF I CAN GET THEM OUT, and if I can’t it looks like i’ll be living in the Home Depot parking lot.”
“Maybe if I.. Yeah okay that worked. Fuck.”
I did it. I was pissed but I did it. I drove home inconveniently, with a couple more mirrors blocked then should have been but I got my mother effing chairs.
But as I drove home, the New Radicals popped on and reminded me of something.
“You only get what you give”
I know. Just like everyone else does, you get out what you put in. But the reminder from a catchy song, telling me not to give up. That I only get what I give made me realize how important the triumph over the chairs was.
You see, I had an idea and tried to execute it. Buy chairs, put on patio, pour wine and enjoy. But as the plan was set in motion I hit bumps. Big ones. Seemingly impossible ones. The chairs don’t fit. Panic. Try again. Panic. Call mom. Panic. Try again and make the damn things work. Life has obstacles regardless of whether you really need things to work out smoothly or not. But instead of giving up, returning the dumb dumb chairs and going home, I leaned on someone I trusted and then I got the GD job done. But I did it myself. I bucked up. I put my big girl pants on and I made it happen whether the process was pretty or not. And ignore the fact that I hate pants.
So now, as I sit in my pain in the ass $20 chairs having my morning coffee, I realize the lesson they taught me. I can do it and even in my own deepest doubt, I am enough. If I want something to happen as bad as I wanted to lounge on these chairs with a glass of wine, I will find a way to make it work.
Yes, it is impossible to go west with my apartment and my job and my sister and my nephew. But maybe that’s not what I want. Maybe what I want is a) the ability to visit home without financial stress and b) the feeling of being surrounded by people who care about me.
So while I sit here alone, I realize this:
I am not a victim of my circumstances, I am a product of mindfulness and of love.
My heart is broken But I am worthy of being the one to put it back together, even if some pieces will forever be missing.
I am alone, but I am not forced to be lonely.
I can change my circumstance. I can listen to the innermost voice and move forward with the notion that I control my state.
I can be mindful and present.
I can be strong and calm
And I can figure the damn thing out.
Putting on my big girl pants..
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