Pretty Much Taylor Swift

I have a daily habit to torture myself with a little Facebook app called "On This Day."  Every blessed day, I receive a notification that lets me know that I have memories with 'so and so' and 'that girl' and 'that kid.'  Every day, I click on the notification and then take a walk down my Facebook memory lane.  I read cute things my kids said when they were toddlers and remember fun things I did with my friends and laugh at the antics that made up my daily life all those years ago.  They are lovely, bittersweet memories that make me thankful for this life and also very sad that time has flown by.

The most recent memories are less lovely.  They remind me of the inky darkness that enveloped me for the past two years.  I really thought I had been hiding it, but reading those memories demonstrate that it was pretty evident I was struggling.  One year ago today, for example, I shared something Glennon Doyle posted:

"...You are a child of God and everything you have ever been or are or will become has already been approved.  Please, please stay.  Stay.  First the pain, then the rising.  You must stay for the rising."

I posted this under the guise of "helping others," but the truth is that one year ago today I was living the most miserable life I'd ever known and it only got worse as the year progressed.  By January, I was beyond despondent.  I don't know how I worked or parented or friended or adulted.   It was probably possible because of all of my people and because when we are in those awful depths we learn to fake it.  I spent many months last year feeling pretty certain that there was not a space or place or meaning for my life on this Earth.  I can honestly tell you that one of the only reasons I am alive today is because I had three girls who needed a mom; I knew that despite my total failure as a human, losing me would be the worst thing I could do to them.  In this one instance, being a perfectionist who always does what she's supposed to was actually a protective factor.

Today?  So, so, so much better.  I smile and mean it.  I laugh and enjoy it.  I feel energetic and I can sleep most of the time.  I am alive...truly alive.  I'm not just taking up space and going through the motions.  I am mostly living my actual life and I'm mostly enjoying most parts of it.  It's a work in progress, for sure, and there are still some painful things that need to be resolved.  But, I am alive.

And, yet...

There is still this dull ache that occasionally shoots a sharp, twinge of pain into my heart.  It often happens when I read the memories on the app or when I recall my life *BEFORE.*  It's not that I necessarily want to go back in time, because I don't actually want to do that.  It's just that some of these memories make me feel the way I felt back then.  It's like I put on a costume and I resumed the character I once was.  Only, the costume doesn't really fit and I can't keep it on because this new me is who I am for real now.

It's such an odd experience, really.  There are so many ways in which I've grown and I mostly like who I am becoming.  I'm proud that I am resilient and still alive.  I'm thankful that some of my hard judgmental edges have been sanded down by adversity.  I am glad I have experiences that allow me to have an even greater empathy for others' painful experiences.  All in all, I am a better human in some ways than I was *BEFORE.* .

Still, I grieve.  I bargain. I rage.  I cry.  I look at my life in disbelief.  It was only recently that I realized that in addition to grieving losses that were obvious, I was also grieving the loss of who I once was.  That girl was so sweet. She was innocent and naive and pretty sure that life was going to give her only goodness.  She believed that whatever energy she put out into the world would be returned to her ten-fold.  She had all the answers and thought her life plan was locked in place.  But, that was *BEFORE.*   I suppose it's good that I'm not that annoyingly self-assured any longer.  But, the truth is, that as annoying as I might have been, I really miss being that girl.  I worry that I'm becoming cynical and untrusting.  I look at others who seem to have "better" lives and I am consumed with envy.  I feel like, in many ways, I'm resigning myself to a mediocre existence because it's too risky to hope for more.  I just want to be happy...with no twinges.

Maybe that's the next step in my journey. Perhaps the next best thing to do is move towards peace and acceptance for who I've become.  Right now, I'm still in mourning.  Maybe someday, however, I can be like Taylor Swift in her new song "Look What You Made Me Do."  Maybe I'll get to say, "I'm sorry, the old Sara can't come to the phone.  Why?  'Cause she's dead."  Maybe when I say it, I will be proud of that transformation and there will be no twinges.  Until then, I'm just gonna celebrate still being alive because that, it turns out, is a major accomplishment.

Keep on, keeping on....

<3