Curveballs

This picture always bring me back to a lot of happy memories.  It was New Years Eve 2017 and I had managed to convince everyone I love to get out for a night of shenanigans and debauchery, and it was probably one of the best nights of my life.  We sang, we laughed, we brought in the New Year together as a tribe and it is a feeling I will never forget.

I held on to that memory a lot that next year. 

It happens to all of us eventually- we have a defining moment in time where we realize that life isn’t within our control.  Try as we might (some of us harder than others), eventually experience and hurt catch up to all of us.

I thought I had experienced that already.  Truth be told I had when my dad passed away suddenly as a teen.  It was a defining moment in my young life, and I remember that feeling of desperation and deep ache to never feel that lost again.  So, I crafted a tidy little life for myself.  I worked hard, I saved, I invested, I created a home full of comfort and the things that made me feel secure to ensure that those deep hurts never crossed my path again. 

It was a good life.  It was safe and full of comfort and a lot of proud moments.  I had a career that I loved and was passionate about, I had a home, friends. I stayed as busy or quiet as I wanted in my life and it was a season of deep content. 

But eventually those seasons end, and we are all faced with the task of growing and boy let me tell you- those valleys are brutal.

2018 was the beginning of that for me.  I ended up in a very toxic relationship.  I didn’t realize it in the beginning, the first half of that year was filled with love and happiness and of the promise of something really special.  Despite a lot of stress at work that had resulted in me running the company off an on that entire year as the owners flew through 5 ED’s in a very short amount of time, I would go home each night and be met with smiles and hugs and the comfort of a partner that I thought was my forever. It was about halfway through that year that it came crashing down and I was left with a choice about what kind of woman I wanted to be.  The kind of woman who stands up for what she deserves or the kind of woman who knows better but allows herself to be convinced otherwise.  And you know what? I had never understood how women end up in this kind of relationship before- but looking back, I get it.  It is so much easier for darkness to get in than we realize and once it’s there, it is even harder to release it.

I didn’t stay at first, but I eventually went back and right about the time that I opened that door, all hell broke loose.

My body gave out, in a big way.  I went from a fully functioning adult to a woman who could barely get out of bed, was unable to even get to the restroom alone or bathe herself.  In the span of 3 or 4 months I found myself in the emergency room at least 15 times.  Towards the end I wasn’t even able to walk.  Sick is a very big understatement for what I was.  If it hadn’t been for him during that time, I’m not sure where I would have been.  There were problems, big ones, but I was totally reliant on him and scared to death of what was being presented to me and my future.  So, I ignored red flags and clung on to someone who promised things were going to be OK.

Eventually I was diagnosed with Lupus.  Honestly by the time I had an answer all I could be was relieved, and after that things moved so quickly that I barely had a moment to really process what that really meant long term.  I was given the diagnoses and immediately put-on large doses of steroids and a chemo drug in hopes of suppressing my overactive immune system.  I gave it about a month and mustered up enough strength to crawl back into work but that dream career was gone.  By the end of November, I was home, jobless, without insurance or income, and in the middle of a 3-month argument with my short-term disability company about payment that ended up taking 8 months to sort out.

I lost everything.

I ended up at home in my childhood bedroom.  Sick as a dog, scared out of my mind, and utterly uncertain about what to do next.  Eventually he told me we needed to get married.  That I was loved, and would be taken care of, and that we could have a bigger ceremony when I got better like we had planned, but the need was immediate.

So that is what happened.

And for a brief period, some of my stress melted away.  Only for a time though. 

The chemo dosage kept going up and I spent more time in the bathroom than in bed, hugging the toilet crying for the nausea to end.  I was still alone large parts of the day while he worked, and the evenings began to get lonelier and lonelier as well.  I knew things were not good.  What little time was spent together became quiet fights followed by a lot of blame.  He was being expected to take care of everything. I spent more time asleep than paying attention to him.  I had gained weight.  This was not the life he had signed up for.  I needed to get off my fat ass and get a job because it wasn’t his job to be the sole provider.  I was too much. 

All of these things were usually said after I had found another email or text or facebook message.  I would find a newly created email address filled with things, I would address it, and suddenly it would be all my fault.  He was under so much pressure.  He created the new email to prove I didn’t trust him and sent those emails to show me how possessive I was.  He had never met up with anyone- how could he, he was always working and taking care of my problems.  He talked with other women because I wasn’t giving him what he needed.  The excuses went on and on, and I was so broken by then that I believed him and what he told me about myself.  Until I didn’t.

Eventually I got smart.  I put tracking on the electronics. I don’t know that I expected to actually find anything, but I felt so lost that it was the only thing I knew to do in order to give me hope or help me make the decision.  And then on my birthday I opened my laptop and saw what I needed to see and was then faced with the task of making a decision. Truth be told, I’m not sure I would have made the right one had my family not intervened.  I was exhausted and beaten down.  I had caused such an uproar over the last year with him that I felt I had to stay- because of my vows and because I had screwed up so badly with family through all of it, would I be alone if I left?

What would I do if I lost him too?  Who would love me with my broken body? How would I take care of me?  I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, but I didn’t know how to begin fixing my life.  Fortunately, my sister happened to come by my bedroom and see my distress and for the first time in a year I was honest.  Honest about what had been going on, honest about how scared I was, and honest about being totally lost.  She got my mom, and together they shared the information that I had desperately needed to hear, but no one had known how to tell me because I had become so isolated and defensive. 

A lot came out over the next few days while he was “out of town for work.”  It happened fast, and honestly as heartbroken as I was, I don’t think I really let it sink in.  I was just going through the motions, trying to come up with a plan that kept me safe, and kept him away.  Both families got involved and to my amazement, rallied behind me.  It was the first time I had felt truly loved in a long time.  Im not sure they really know how much strength they all gave me to make that hard decision, but truly I am here today because of all of them. 

I packed his things and left them with his dad.  I picked him up from the airport after his 3-week adventure and on the way home I explained to him that I could take him to his moms, or to his dads where his things were but that he wasn’t coming home with me.  I showed him the print outs of the texts- of course he had excuses.  I told him I had saved copies of everything I had ever found- I had re-opened all of the email accounts he had deleted (because he had kept the same password for everything) and saved everything for the attorney.  And for the first time, he had run out of excuses.  He asked me what I wanted to do and I told him he couldn’t stay, that it was over- so he got out of the car in the middle of sycamore view and that was the last time I physically saw him until I finally mustered up the courage to file for the divorce a few months later.

It was the absolute hardest thing I have ever done.  Breaking those chains knowing I had no way of taking care of myself with as sick as I was.  I don’t think I have ever cried that hard in my life, or for that long. I guess I had hoped I would feel immediately free, but all I really had left was the dark corner I had been hiding in.  It wasn’t until a few weeks after I had confronted him that I really became aware of how bad I had let things get.  Bills started coming in.  Big bills.  Medical bills that he had supposedly taken care of.  So I called the hospitals to confirm that he had given them insurance information (that he had kept and never given me because I was so sick) and figure out why I was receiving such large invoices only to find out that he had listed me as uninsured.  He had been hiding my mail but with him gone, the bills came in and eventually I was able to get a contact at his job that confirmed what we had already figured out- he had never been employed.  At least not at the company he had said he was. 

What little money left over from my short-term disability had been used by him, and at that point I didn’t even have the income to GET a divorce.  So, I did the only thing I knew to do, and I sold everything.  Fancy clothes, purses, my furniture. Anything I had of value that had not already been taken away was sold to get me through.

I scratched together the money, cut the final ties with him, and then was left with trying to figure out how I was going to take care of myself when I couldn’t work and had no insurance to continue getting consistent treatment.

That first year was rough.

 I had to make a lot of amends and crawling out of that dark hole when I felt like I deserved to be there was hard.  I stayed there a lot longer than I needed to, but it had become my safe place.  By this point Granny had declined so I stayed home and took care of her so mom could work and tried to focus on my own healing.  Eventually that side business that he had told me would never make me income started producing clients and I drafted resumes in between breakfasts and lunches for Granny.

I’d like to say I came out of that first year a better woman, and maybe I did but mostly I look back and its hazy.   My health didn’t magically change- I stayed on chemo and steroids for 2 years and watched my body slowly battle itself.  My symptoms raged on, my body’s chemistry drastically changed, my weight fluctuated.  I spent a lot of time throwing up but had learned how to time the meds so I could get things done during the week.  I was still pretty lost.  I knew I couldn’t go back to the person I was before, but I had no idea who I was now or even what kind of value I had, if any.  The only reason I am still alive to write this is because in spite of how bad I had let things get, my tribe stepped up and loved me hard.  They held me through hours of the most painful crying I had ever done.  They passed on any and all help they came across.  They sat with me when I didn’t have it in me to go anywhere.  I clung hard to them and I am so grateful I did.

Somewhere along the way, I started healing.  The sorrow left, as did the anger, and while life was far from good, I started to see the blessings I had been given.

We like to joke that I won the family in the divorce- but I know I got lucky.  They kept me.  They loved me. They continued to include me. My stepdaughter never wavered and to this day still calls me second mom and in a lot of ways this family helped me heal from a lot of the hurt he caused.

Slowly I started being open about the journey, about this illness.  I decided I never wanted anyone to face life with lupus or chronic illness alone, and that vulnerability brought me new people.  I lost some friends along the way, but I started understanding my value again and stopped allowing myself to be used. Things were on the right track, though I still really had no idea where I was heading, just that I felt like I was on the right path.

And then 2020 hit.  I shattered my hip in three places in January to start the new year and boy did it just digress from there.  I’d like to say given my newfound strength that I handled it well, but I didn’t.  I had been battling chronic illness for 3 years without insurance at that point and I was stretched thin.  I was left vulnerable and scared and completely unsure of what to do next.  By this point I had been in the hospital 30+ times and had struggled with flare after flare never really being able to get it under control and was learning to live with a certain amount of pain and a new standard of expectations for my life.  I had already been through so much, how was this even fair?  By this point I had taken on a second job because resumes were slow and was let go while in the hospital.  I was unable to move, unable to work again, and had just been told that I probably wouldn’t walk for the next year.

I was released a little over a week later and transferred home because I couldn’t afford a rehab center.  I learned how to walk and maneuver in a tiny little 3ft’ radius so I could switch from bed, to a chair, and to a toilet.  I lived in the dining room until June when I had finally gained enough strength to at least sit in a wheelchair and get myself around a bit more.  Eventually we were told that the hip had healed as much as it probably would thanks to the lupus and that eventually I’d need a replacement.  I was told to do my best to walk and when the pain became unbearable, come back to see them. I did the only thing I could, and I learned how to walk, how to handle a bum hip, how to function and when it was time to slow down, learn to listen to my body. 

I’m not sure when or even how, but somewhere along the way this year, things shifted for me.  That stress I held on to, those plans I felt that I needed to have, that life I missed and longed for- I let it go.  I stopped fighting the valley I had been in for 3 years and I learned to rest in it.  The amount of healing I did this year is astounding to me.  I look back on the last 34 years and I feel like a totally different person and here is probably the point of this entire novel:

Life isn’t easy.  It’s just not.  At some point we all face a valley, granted most of us have our trials spread out over a decade or 2 or 3 and mine came all at once, but still- we all end up in a place where we can learn and grow.  My life before was not a bad life.  I was happy, and I am still proud of my accomplishments during that time.  I would say though that my life now, while infinitely more complex, is also much richer.  I have learned the value of letting go and allowing yourself the freedom of letting life push your forward.  I understand that vulnerability is necessary for growth and I no longer fear being honest about my trials, about my feelings, about my story.  I have been given grace and more love than I ever expected to receive in my lifetime, and it came in the most unexpected packages.  I had to let go of a lot of dreams- a family, children, a career- the list goes on, but in return I was given hope and the chance to help others find their own way in life.  I learned new skills, found new passions, met new people, I learned to accept help and allow myself to be blessed and loved, and during one of the most unsure years that most of us have ever experienced, I learned to be still and let go.  It took longer to get here than it should have, but here I am, a better human in the process. 

My problems haven’t magically disappeared.  As I write all of this, I am on week 6 of being sick yet again and spent close to a week in the Covid unit fighting blood clots and pneumonia.  I am off my lupus meds because of all of this I am experiencing all sorts of fun little hiccups in my body.  I am, as always, a truly hot mess and as I type that last sentence, I am reminded of a song that feels fitting for this chapter of my life:

 

She is imperfect but she tries
She is good but she lies
She is hard on herself
She is broken and wont ask for help
She is messy but she’s kind
She is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up
And baked in a beautiful pie.

 

Our stories are never perfect, nor should they be- they are meant to stretch us and are part of the journey. 

We are all a little broken by this world, but I hope as we close the chapter of 2020, you have found some unknown strength in this year to take you into your next season.