A time of self discovery vs. running for the hills

So... since I've moved back to Greenville I've created a delightful ritual of spending about two hours in the afternoon (normally between noon and two p.m.) vegging on the couch watching Felicity. Do you remember that show? If you don't, it's an old WB show where Keri Russel stars as a NYU student searching for love and meaning in life, etc. etc. You know. Basically everyone's experience of being in their twenties... in a nutshell. Well, I've reached season three (probably in record time) and the episode I was watching today centered around Ben and his alcoholic father. Ben went to his first Al-anon meeting (Al-anon is like AA but it's for the relatives of the alcoholic). I got particularly worked up watching this episode. In the episode, it was the second meeting that Ben had been to, and he decided that he would share his story. He started with the usual, "Hello, my name is Ben." And everyone responded with, "Hello, Ben." And then he said "My father's an alcoholic. And I hate him." That's all he said. And for a moment I was like "well, that's lame. Find your words Ben." ...I'm assuming at this point you realize that I thought more about it. I mean I am writing a blog about it for &^$% sake. As I write this blog I am still ironing out the details of what exactly I am feeling.

I have never been to an Al-anon meeting. I decided to deal with my emotions about my mother's death and addiction the old fashioned way; by pushing it to the back of my mind and moving to a big city. Let's be honest. I made the decision to move two and half months after one of the biggest and life altering moments in my life. I dealt with my grief by going inward. I did yoga. I meditated. I tried to pin point my relationship to my mother so that I could apologize for what I needed to apologize for. And also so I could forgive her for things that she never got to apologize for. I can safely say that there is a part of me that still feels like Ben. The way my mother and I left it wasn't exactly good. It was partly because of the addiction and partly because of our pride that we couldn't talk about how we were feeling. And more importantly we couldn't apologize.

When I moved to Chicago I was in a terrible place. I was heart broken in probably all the ways that I could be. I said that I was leaving because I needed to figure myself out. I needed a change of scenery to see what made me tick and see what broke me down and what made me stronger. I think that these things are true. But I also think that I was scared to stay in Greenville. I'm not really sure what I was scared of. Maybe I was scared that I would have a constant reminder of my mother. Maybe I was scared that I would be stuck in a monotonous relationship that I stayed in because of fear even though it no longer served me. I was just scared. And let me tell you something. Fear is either like cement, or the biggest catalyst you will ever experience in your life.

There were moments in Chicago that I actually felt like I as over it. But then one day I would be crying randomly at silly little things like commercials on the television or a glass of orange juice. The reverand at my mother's funeral said that grief is like a spiral. You start at the point in the middle and the spiral gets bigger. There will always be highs and lows, but the more that time goes by the further apart the highs are from the lows. The more that time goes by I realize that this is absolutely true. There are moments when I can thank God for the time I got with my mother and all the amazing things that I learned from her. Then there are the moments that I miss her more than words and realize that I will never see her again. At least not while I'm on this earth. And sometimes that realization is too much for me to handle. Maybe I am having one of those moments right now. Maybe that's why I am writing this post.

I guess the point of this post (and the point of this blog really) is that it doesn't matter if you are running away or if you have control over the situation you are in. It doesn't matter if your heart is shattered or you have never experienced anything that you would label as real heartbreak. At the end of your journey you will be where God intended you to be. Whether I was broken when I left, whether I left because I was on a journey of self discovery or if I was scared, I was supposed to be where I was. Just like I am supposed to be where I am now. There are still things that are hard for me to see. Random everyday things: boiled peanut stands, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, anything related to fall. All these things remind me of my mother. But I am strong enough to see past the bruised heart and cherish them as things that I shared with her. They are things that I will pass on my children as cherished items because they will see how much I love them. And I am sure when I am gone they will have a similar pang in their heart when they see them. That's love, I guess. It's a sharing of things most dear.

I will end saying that I wouldn't change anything. My mother's death brought new light to all of the other relationships in my life. My sister, my aunt, my father. I even talk to cousins and family members that I hadn't before. It's amazing how a time of such devastation can make you realize the things that matter most. I cherish the singing of birds and the smell of a delicious meal. I pay attention when I am hugging a friend. There are times that I don't, but now I realize that it is important to come back to the small things. These things we take for granted are the fruit of our life. They are the things that we will be known for after we take our last breath. For that I am grateful.  

Who knew a TV show could bring this out of me. Well done "Felicity". Well done.