....and another two months seem like a century. i realize this, as march marks one year since i walked out of the courthouse resigned to give up the fight for custody of my son and let him live his senior year of highschool in peace, while i picked up the pieces. i am amazed at the courage his little brother has found and how much they have both matured in this crazy, convoluted year and i am thankful to have lived through it.
some days it felt like so many things were trying to kill me, including myself. in the last four or five months before we left all.of.it road behind, my life became clausterphobically full of ghosts. catch phrases in buried voices, surviving on foundations of laughter and closeness. faces of people whose names i could not recall, surrounded by smiles who might have known but didn't get involved. abnormal relationships weren't called out in the south in the seventies and most things happened behind closed doors. folks trusted smooth talk and living room entertainment too much and there was always somewhere to run. and baby he was born to run.
today i'm reminded of new roads to roam, running welcome but not mandatory. i am re.mind.ed of a new story, that focuses on my children over my childhood and letting go of whatever's not good. i realize that i walked out of the courthouse in march 2011, after three solid years of defending the choices of my adult life while begging to be with my son, carrying a broken heart so full of pain and disgust and rage that i took an immediate trajectory toward my own personal hell on earth, attracting people and opportunities and situations that brought out the worst in me. that i numbed myself on mindless entertainment and social distraction like a junkie and i took ahold of poverty, desperation and shame like they were some sort of salvation. i allowed myself to feel like a victim and wondered what i deserved. i craved changing the past, wishing i could take back all of the years and excuses and opportunities i had given my transgressors. i experienced regret for the first time, wishing i had given ian the chance to grow up free from abuse in an exchange for growing up without a father. the irony of wishing joshua's father would acknowledge him is not lost on me, but seems to be obviously poignant in the grand scheme of things. where one head is removed another will appear. we are all at the mercy of heathers.
i realize only a few weeks after losing one son to a flawed system and several of the more weak minded, fear mongerers of our species, that i almost lost everything else. when you feel like you've lost everything, there is always something more at stake. whenever you have given up a path of struggle, you must be open to the new path of ease. if you become stagnant, you become toxic. when you are toxic, you attract toxicity. when we allow ourselves to accept poverty or self-defeat we are giving in to a design that was created to weed out our greatest possibilities and suppress our spirit. when we strive to overcome poverty through self-awareness and positive self-image, we allow our spirit to overcome those existing paradigms.
two months doesn't really seem like a century, but it does seem like a lot of growth has happened in a very short time, for myself as well as those around me. and a year can seem like a lifetime when really it's just a fork in the road. much like an immaculate jam, a glorious life is about mastering transitions. i don't know what simon says but this white trash goddess says, just give yourself time.
jah bless.
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