I sit here typing these words at forty-five years old. Forty-five… How did that happen? I still feel seventeen inside, barely treading in too-deep-water and wondering when I’ll be able to stop pretending like I’ve got this whole thing under control. I also, admittedly, feel about ninety-two, or at least how I imagine ninety-two to feel when a body is achy, chilled and worn.
In truth, at forty-five, I guess I’m caught somewhere in the middle.
Many years ago, I expected I’d have it all figured out by the time I reached today. Finances would be set. Big life things would be set. All emotionally healing and duress would be behind me. Weren’t we taught by example that these middle days were more like floating life’s lazy river than drowning in the water-rushing-deep end?
I thought so, anyway.
Then my thirties came, and my forties, and I began to realize that all those years ago when I looked up at the adults in my life, they were just treading tired water too. When a once-good friend was depressed over turning forty, as I crossed into thirty, she miserably said that older friends told her it got better then. I encouraged her but left the truth we were both thinking, unspoken: It wouldn’t get better, it would be old.
The truth is that those in their thirties tell the younger ones it gets better, and it does. The same goes for forties to thirties and fifties to forties… And, at forty-five, it’s fair to say I think it’s true. I mean, flexibility, health and joint pain may not get better- but inside, it does.
How we see the outside– what we’re willing to accept, and tolerate. What we will no longer settle for… As souls, we feel better.
When I thought about this idea of a time in my life when I trusted the journey, my mind came up blank. I sifted through memories of baskets I’d placed all of my hope/faith in, and how each one of those baskets kind of failed. There is this sad little pattern of that sort of thing, within my forty-five years. I’ve tried not to dwell on that, but I’ll admit it doesn’t really encourage me to go all in on faith/hope/trust, when it comes to chapters in my journey. So, I sifted and I sorted even more, looked even harder. I have always been a woman with faith, though that faith has significantly morphed, mutated and changed over the years, so surely I could find some time when I’d trusted the journey…
And that was it: the journey.
While many aging-breakdowns happen at thirty, forty, fifty– mine happened at twenty-five. At twenty-five years old, I had crumbled. With my therapist, I climbed out of that chasm acknowledging that I had a life and it could be the life I chose. I chose to be a wife. I chose to chase motherhood. I chose to be a writer. I chose to help women heal their traumas and choose their lives too. Up close, with a macro focus, it wouldn’t seem like I had much faith (or success really) with those choices… When I step back though, and take in the journey of the past thirty years, I am awed. I chose marriage. I chose to chase motherhood. I did all of the things. Some of them worked out, and some of them blew up in my face. Some days found me sitting in a bathtub covered in pills and vomit, choosing to live despite trying not to. Some days found me overwhelmed and running, and other days found me standing tall and ready for the fight.
Some days… Some moments… Even though I had momentary lapses of surrender and worn exhaustion, the fact was that I did not give up. I moved forward. I embraced choices. I made plans, wove dreams… I trusted my journey.
Back in March I shared the trailer for the film Finding You, which releases on Friday May 14th. In honor of the release, I am giving away a $25 Fandango gift card. I know it might be a little anxiety-inducing to think of going to the movies, but I also know that as things continue to become safer, it’s time that start adding life-moments back in. A free gift card might that nudge you need!
- Leave a comment on this post by Thursday May 13th at NOON EST, telling of a time you trusted the journey.
- Leave a comment on the coordinating Instagram post by Thursday May 13th at NOON EST, telling of a time you trusted the journey.
- Share it in your Instagram story or on Twitter– you MUST tag me (@rainydayinmay)
Your name goes in the drawing for all things… Meaning if you comment both places and share stories/tags on each day, you could technically get ten chances to win. I mean, I’m not going to tell you what to do, just saying you COULD do that. ;)
Let’s hear it… when is a time that you trusted the journey?
2 thoughts on “trusting the journey…”
When working as an interpreter for deaf students, I trusted the journey when a mother who was a Special Education teacher encouraged me to finish my Education degree. I did a hard thing by going to Smith College.
Long, long story. It blew up in my face. Patriarchal religion was the C4, forcing me to give up my dream of becoming a Teacher for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Apparently, it was time to be a mother, not aspire to have a career.
It was a hard thing to leave very close to graduating. Something in me broke.
After the blowup, my journey led me to do impossibly difficult things, and my soul imploded little by little.
But I didn’t stop trying to get help wherever I knew to seek it out. Even today.
When I trusted the journey.
I have always struggled with my self worth. I cared so much for everyone and when others didn’t care or were cruel, it broke my little heart. I didn’t understand how people could not care for other people. As an adult that didn’t get any easier. I became depressed because I felt like it was just easier to not connect with people so I wouldn’t get hurt. Just in case anyone is wondering if this works, it doesn’t. I finally realized that I needed a change. I knew this wasn’t the life I was meant to have so I sat down with my husband and made a list of things that I wanted out of life and a job. The next day I enrolled in an Esthetics Program. I had no idea if I would be successful or where I would be working but I went with it. I went with the flow and I don’t regret it. It’s had it’s ups and downs but it has been worth it.