Day 361

2:30AM:

Our vows knew it.  We will have a conversation later today (probably one of the reasons why I’m awake right now) about our next steps on this path of recovery, of reclaiming healthy.  But our direction, our vows knew before us:

  • “I promise that when you’re taking care of others, I’ll take care of you.”
  • “The beautiful, amazing and loving world you and I create is greater and more everlasting than anything I could have imagined being a part of.”
  • “In my eyes, great love starts not with the words ‘I love you,’ but with the first action of true affection.”
  • “I’ll fix all the cracks when you say you’re broken.”

They were promises of who we wanted to become. We weren’t there yet and we aren’t there now, but we are more there than then.  We had not achieved them, but for one brief moment, one beautiful sliver in time, we both got complete insight into that path.  They are the me version of me, the her version of her, the us version of us.

They were promises we need each other to accomplish.  They are our dreams, dreams we now call to reclaim.  But in fact, we’ve been reclaiming our dreams for ourselves ever since we met.  This is not new, not a new push to work on us.

This is our life together and we shared this path of recovery, these dreams, these versions of us to each other on March 18, 2011.

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Day 360

4PM:

My wife has a great saying on one of her motivational chalkboards = hard work is hard for a reason, so work hard.

Last night, after receiving an overly-transparent check-in text message from my aunt (yes, the aunt of last weekend) in the afternoon, I called her.  I knew it would be hard.  Hell, I usually know what conversations are going to be hard.  That doesn’t mean not having them is the solution.  Mom and the middle sister haven’t spoken in a quarter century.  That’s because the hard conversation didn’t happen.  The middle sister’s daughter, my cousin, practically grew up with a piece-meal family as a consequence.  That’s because the hard conversation didn’t happen.  Both Mom and the middle sister feel like the black sheep as a result, feel hurt and abandoned – both of them feel that way.  That’s because the hard conversation didn’t happen.

I called my aunt knowing these things.  The hard conversation happened because even though it has come to the point that the benefit of the doubt no longer swings in their favour (as their honest mistake from last week demonstrated), even though she didn’t call after a couple of awkward and frosty encounters that fueled that pendulum of doubt swinging in the wrong direction, even though I was able to maintain an awesome relationship with their kids through it all, I love them.  I love them for everything they have done for me, for all that I believe in them for, for the people that I know they are.

I called them because while they should have been aware of these things, who’s to say what “should.”  There is just what is.  The door is open, the awareness there, the seeds planted and our tears have fallen to help them grow.  Blind faith in them, because that’s what it nearly has come to, has the chance now to be faith, to see.  That’s because the hard conversation happened.  The hard conversation of 58 minutes and 59 seconds; no longer will an hour will be spent without love and care.

My wife and I have to talk tomorrow about our recovery direction, about how we will move forward after last weekend’s breaks.  We will speak of hope for recovery, of reclaiming our dreams, of rest and stress management, of reclaiming healthy minds, bodies and souls.  The hard conversation will happen, because the beautiful things are never simple and the blackness cannot scare us away from them.

The beautiful things are beautiful for a reason; the beautiful things are always worth it, so love hard.

Day 359

3PM:

To be the person that she needs me to be, I have to be above her blackness.  With her dreams, with her desires, with her promises – those things are above her blackness, above the hijacking, above the neglect, above the flaws.  She dreams bigger than she is.

I don’t mean for that to sound bad.  It is more like that line in the English Patient: “‘She had grown older.  And he loved her more now than he had loved her when he understood her better, when she was the product of her parents.  What she was now was what she herself had decided to become.'”  That is not a bad thing and that is where her dreams are, even before she has or we have gotten there.  She dreams bigger than she is; she just hasn’t caught up to them yet.

In my context, I work towards a more ME version of ME, which makes not being there yet frustrating.  She SEES that version of herself, is able to visualize it, is able to dream it and live pieces of it in her mind.  She can be in that place before she is in that place, in those dreams before they become our place.  What that must be for her…

But I need to be in her now to help her get us there.  When her hormones hijack her, I need to help her out, be her promises, even when that means stepping back and letting her find solid ground (because she can, her doing so at work proves that).  That very well might mean highlighting the week that we know her hormones might pop up and piggy-back her blackness, for both her awareness and mine (maybe in terms of yesterday‘s rallying cry to press on, press forward, that is something we can look to do).  When she doesn’t want to work out or eat healthy, I need to help her out and be her promises, even when that means stepping back and being patient, letting her find her way, being supportive by making working out and healthy eating easier, being supportive by being inspirational, not letting her give up but not being louder than her dreams.

I hope that she comes around to her dreams, to her trueness.  I believe in her, believe that she will.

Reclaiming healthy is about reclaiming our dreams from the blackness.

We dream bigger than we are – that’s called hope.