Resolution

          A little over a year ago I wrote a post on finding gratitude in tragedy. I talked about being thankful for personal growth; for learning that I was capable of overcoming great adversity. It’s a strange concept to be thankful for pain and heartbreak, and when you first fall into it all you can think about is getting yourself out. But it makes more sense from the other side, looking back down that tunnel while the sun shines on your face. In the thick of that darkness I figured out that I was stronger than I thought; I didn’t die when J.J. did, even though I was so tired. The toll of 2 years fighting with cancer, with fear, with the truth I tried so hard not to believe. After that the ground was so inviting. It looked so soft and quiet and I just wanted to rest and get out of the ring. Just a temporary pause. I didn’t think I could survive it but I did, and I knew I had changed and would never be that person I was at 26, before we got pushed off the boat. I’m thankful that I’m a good swimmer, but climbing out of the ocean after years of treading water has left me a little unsteady on my feet. The irony of stepping out of trauma is that that peace, that happiness and security that was snatched out of our hands feels dangerous once we hold it again. It’s a familiar and yet suspicious thing because we are no longer sure that it’s rightfully ours. Trauma is underhanded because it can make you feel like you deserved it, like you had it coming. When the floor gives out from under you, you often wonder what you did to crack it. Otherwise why did it happen to you? Why you in that little room with that lovely doctor telling you that your world is ending? Why you who must now endure that walk through the waiting room, all those eyes full of pity and relief that it’s you and not them. There are many memories I wish I could forget but it’s hard to shoo them away because they’re quiet and conniving and they sneak up behind me when I’m not looking. So how do I resolve my happiness now with the tragedy of then?

            I recently went to a friend for advice on how to reconcile myself with myself—when I know that I deserve to be happy but I think that I don’t. When I want to be present in my beautiful reality but the horrifying experiences of that past reality keep reminding me that they happened. Tubes and beeps and buttons and heartbeats and silence. She told me that the answer is gratitude. She told me that you cannot be afraid and grateful at the same time. She said that when you’re afraid, just remind yourself of all of the things you are grateful for. And I am grateful for so many things. There is more love in my life than I thought could exist for one person. People who blow me away with their kindness, their encouragement, their acceptance of the person who I am, most genuinely.

          And the truth is, that I am not the same person who I was in that hospital. I am not the same person who dreaded my empty house. I am not the same person who had learned to hate the quiet. I need to let that other girl go because she doesn’t belong here in my gratitude. I don’t have to be her anymore. And if I let her go I think I can accept my happiness.

          Sometimes we don’t know how deep wounds are until they’ve mostly healed. It’s that last little scar that seems to take forever to fade, and often it never disappears completely. I don’t need it to disappear. I don’t need to forget. But I don’t need it to hurt anymore. It’s okay to let it not hurt anymore. I should allow myself that kindness. I am grateful for all of the kindness shown to me by others. I hope I can repay it just as significantly. I have so many wonderful teachers.