What I’m Riding . . . my Truth Journal (10)

The cover of my journal from Marvi, with the truth symbol in the upper left corner

The cover of my journal from Marvi, with the truth symbol in the upper left corner

March 5, 2007–Monday (non-italic text within parentheses are current notations)


Sounds so simple, doesn’t it?  But still I’ve had flashes of readiness, false senses that I had indeed accepted things, moved on.  I’d wake up with a sense of clarity, of not wanting to cry and I’d think, “I made it.  It’s over.”  Then something in work would remind me, or I’d simply think myself to tears and there I’d be, crying in my car on the way home, right back where I started or worse.  I keep telling myself not to be sad, to pick myself up and enjoy, but it’s not something I can just will to happen.  If that were true, I’d never shed a tear.  Sure , I can will myself to do: I can get out of bed, I can come to work, I can go to the gym & see family & watch movies & see shows & read books.  But it doesn’t mean I won’t feel crappy doing it, or that I still won’t burst into tears at any moment.  I can do things to distract me, but I will not be able to forget, to Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind myself.
.        I can have dreams, faith and hope that I will climb out of the pit.  I can even know that I will indeed climb out.  But being able to finally see some light doesn’t mean I’m out of the pit; it just means I have less far to climb.  And one hand reaching out of the pit doesn’t make a whole body.  I will not be out of the pit until I’m out of the pit.  And I will not start to climb out until I’m ready.  And I won’t be ready until I’m ready.

Ok, I know that sounds like a whole lot of Mr. Brady wisdom, Wherever you go, there you are.  But when I originally wrote this I thought it was so profound, yet so simple.  And impossible.  First of all, ready for what?  I think back then I meant, ready to let go.  Ready to accept.  Ready to move on.  Which is quite a revelation considering my entry before this one dealt with accepting Victor was out of my life. (For more info/background/Rachel indispensable truth wisdom see My Truth Journal 9)  Clearly I hadn’t.  Ready to accept he was gone:  got it.  I suppose what I wasn’t ready to accept was how hard it would be to deal with it.  Yes, you understand readjusting to a life “without” will be difficult.  At times you may even understand it will nearly kill you.  Just like you know and understand being shot will hurt.  And then you’re shot.  And your brain registers the actual pain that up until this point was only thought about.  Different vibe altogether.

This entry especially speaks to me right now, where I am in my life, over nine years later.  Dealing with my niece Jessica’s death has at times seemed impossible.  While she was in the hospital, just before dying, I said to myself, “Wow.  If she dies it will destroy me.  My life will change.  It may age me.  A piece of me will be missing forever.  It will be one of the things I will go to my own grave believing was the worst that could have ever happened to me.”  And a lot of bad things have happened to me.  A lot of bad things happen to a lot of people.  Most people than not, I’m coming to realize.  The few people I know in their fifties with a healthy marriage, four living parents, thriving, successful children, no alcoholism or drug addiction, well, actually, I don’t know any.  So we all have it hard. And we know that we do.  We know we should accept it, even if we’re not ready to.  The tough thing is knowing when you’re ready.  So here’s what I’m saying:  you don’t really know when you’re ready.  One day you just are.  Ready to pick up the phone and get help.  Ready to get out of bed and get in the shower.  Ready to trust again.  Ready to believe God isn’t a heartless bastard.  Ready to believe in God, period.  Relief will wash over you.  You’ll feel it.  You will.  When you’re ready, you will know it.  You can’t be ready and not know it.  Now for the bad news: you may never be ready.

You may go through your days waiting for ready to hit you.  It won’t.  You have to go after it.  It’s like the perfect recipe that you must invent from scratch.  You know the kind of sauce you want, you think you know the ingredients that will make it come together, but you don’t know how much of everything is needed until you taste it.  Over and over again.  You don’t know which day it’s finally going to taste good.  One day it just does.  But in order for that day to come, you have to gather your ingredients.  You have to take out the bowls and mix it all up and start cooking.  Trying different formulas until it tastes right.  Maybe even delicious.  And just like our fabulous sauce, you have to create the ready.

Now get your ass in the kitchen.



About whatimriding

Born and raised in Philly, I spent several years in Las Vegas, working at the House of Blues and writing about the city. I now reside in Tampa, where I continue to work on novels, scripts and short stories and tearfully await former Lightning forward Vincent Lecavalier's return to the bay area.
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