When the Earth Quakes, Walls Crack.
I want live completely in the sun.
This is a simple statement, but one that I have taken a long
time to come to. And when I say this, I
don’t mean I want to go to the beach, or sit outside (although that would be
AWESOME), what I mean is, I want to take ALL
of my life into the sun.
To do this, I have to give a tiny bit of back story…
When Andy was born, he was not healthy. It was a tough time for us. Fast forward a few weeks in his life, and we are
having long term stays at Children’s hospital. It was a very tough time.
You would think that a Children’s hospital would be full of
light, but in reality, that place was dark.
They had expanded building next to building with no regard to sunlight
or air. Our room had two windows, both
of which looked out not upon a sunny courtyard or play area, but upon a brick
wall that extended floors upward blocking the sun, or any view of the outside
world. I never thought of it until
today, but those windows to nowhere, they closed me off. They made it impossible for me to see that
the world continued to move, and people continued to go about their business,
and the sun continued to shine. Lots
of time I didn’t know what time it was, and it always felt like night. It was dark, and it was scary, and it was
hard. I spent a lot of time staring at
that wall outside my window, wondering what was beyond it.
But we survived, and my son is essentially healthy nearly 11
years later. And you may ask yourself,
“’then WHY are you bringing this up Tina?”
Well here’s why.
Today I had an epiphany about that time in my life. I walked into that room one person who was
scared and isolated and alone. And the irony
of the room was that the windows were brick, and I couldn’t see out. I was completely in the dark with the
emotions of those days. I didn’t see
the world continue to go about its business.
I only saw what was contained in that room. And what was in that room was scary and
uncertain. In that room I didn’t relax,
or smile, or fell hope. In that room I
was on high alert. All. The. Time.
Time passed, lots of time, and eventually my boy got healthy
and strong. And we were allowed to go
home.
I emerged from that room, presumably to a happier, brighter,
sunnier place. My son was better. We had answers. But what I have realized, is that part of me
has continued to stay behind to stare at the brick wall, stuck in time on high
alert, waiting. And the part of me that
did walk out of there , has spent the better part of a decade trying to pretend
I am the same person I was when I went in.
You see, this isn’t about my son and his journey, it’s about ME and
MINE.
When I walked into that room, both literally and
metaphorically, I didn’t realize it but I was never going to be the same. And because
of that, there is a part of me that has continued to only see the brick wall
blocking the sun. That part of me has
held on for dear life because what I learned in that room is that the floor can
literally fall from beneath you and shake you to your core. Grief and fear are powerful things.
My entire world was shaken.
Everything I knew to be true was tested. And yet, somehow, I thought I could emerge
exactly the same. It’s really quite a
silly thought, but I have continued to play along all this time. Don’t get me wrong, I have NOT been
miserable or even CLOSE to unhappy all this time. I have a super life. My kids are awesome, my husband is
great! My life is really blessed. But I had never acknowledged that maybe some
part of me deep inside was holding on to the fear.
That little game ended today, because what happened in those
early years of my son’s life HAVE changed me.
They changed who I am, and how I view the world, and how I handle my
life. I have never been the same. And today when I realized that, I saw the
vision of that brick wall out the window in my memory and it struck a
chord. Part of me has lived in the dark
staring at that wall for all this time.
And I think I’m ready to see what’s on the other side.
When the earth
quakes, walls crack.
All this time I have been “staring” at that wall through the
window and willing it to stand as protection.
For whatever reason today I felt ready to let down my guard and feel the
tremor. And it wasn’t so scary. And I was okay. Instead of feeling only fear, I allowed
myself to see the safety and peace that I have found in my life. And guess what I saw when I peeked through the slit in the
mortar and the bricks?
The sun.
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