Originally Published to FB October 1, 2019.
This is my last day of being 49. Having this “Big Birthday” approach has given me an opportunity to reflect on life. Although 50 can’t be halfway through my life (surely, I have already passed that point.) It feels like an occasion where one should take a look back.
If I could sum up my 50 years of life into something concise – it would be that life can be both breathtakingly beautiful and exquisitely painful. It’s not only my life that can be summed up this way. It’s everyone’s life. It’s your life too.
The breathtakingly beautiful part deserves less comment. Who doesn’t love when something great happens, when everything feels right, when you get to experience being full of joy? We all love the beauty of life. To whatever degree you feel it, and wherever you find it, the beauty of life is the reason we carry on through the rest of it. I’ve always appreciated that not every day was breathtakingly beautiful. It is the reason, when I think of my first year of college, I can vividly recall falling in love for the first time, but can only recall one class I took that year, and even that is vague. The mundane vs. the extraordinary. Enjoy every moment of those beautiful times, when you find them. Soak them in. Promise the joy in your heart and the butterflies in your stomach to your everlasting memory.
It’s the exquisitely painful parts of my life, though, that I find myself reflecting on the most. The times I can’t believe I lived through. The surgeries, the illnesses that never seemed to end, the heartbreak of losing people I loved, the long-lasting cyclical despair of infertility. The men I loved but things didn’t work out, the pain of leaving places and people that I treasured dearly. The depressive episodes, where darkness and hopelessness held brutal reign over me. The times things didn’t turn out like I really wanted them to work out. Sometimes we are faced with a series of these events and find ourselves at battle for years, with little mercy. At times our pain feels without end.
There is a phrase you will never hear me say. “Everything happens for a reason.” I know it is a concept that brings peace to many. And that is a good thing. It does not bring peace to me, though. I’ve always found it a bit backward. We are faced with choices during our times of suffering. We can become hardened by them or we can become softened by them. If you barely escaped with your life through a medical condition and turned back to grasp the hand of the person behind you. That was you. If you were brave enough to love again. That was you. If a crisis inspired you to go back to school and pursue something you loved or found meaning in. That was you. If you lost your job at the worst possible time and got yourself into what turned out to be the job of your dreams. That was you, too. There are others who choose to not do any of these things. There are others who become hardened and bitter towards life. There are others who refuse to accept responsibility, blaming everyone but themselves for their problems. There are those who destroy themselves and everyone around them. There are those who refuse to learn from their mistakes. If you learned something from yours, that was you, friend.
I have asked myself what my life would be like right now, at 50, if I had never known suffering. If I’d never had my heart broken, if everything had turned out exactly the way I wanted it to. What would my life be like? Would I have spent my life with the boy I had an unrequited crush on in the 5th grade? It hurt me that he did not return my feelings. I never would have moved. I would most likely still be living in my childhood home in Aurora, CO. Every move I’ve ever made has broken my heart, changed me too much. I would probably be no more than a teenager, emotionally, if I had never known struggling. The teenage years were rough for all of us, weren’t they?
If I had never known suffering, I would have no idea how to relate to anyone else. I would not be that person you could tell that you are feeling suicidal. I have been there. I would not be that person you could ask for medical advice. I would not be that person who could share your pain when your heart is broken. I would not be the person who could listen to how your children are struggling and how you never thought your children would struggle and does that mean you are a bad mother? I have been there, friend. I could never see your goodness and light, if I had never struggled with my own. I can only know love because I learned what love was not. I can only know friend because I learned what friend was not. I can only know truth because I know what it feels like to deceive others, to be deceived. I can only appreciate being pain-free because I have known pain. I can only appreciate the beauty of life because I have learned how unbeautiful life can be.
There have been times in my life where you, friend, made a choice I thought I would never make. I have even said – well, I would NEVER about it. Do you know what? Several years later, I found myself in your situation. And I made the same choices you did. 50 years have humbled me.
I’m not grateful for my suffering. I can see the part it has played in my life, though. I can see that after every period of sorrow something better was born. I can see how I healed myself by sitting with others, through their sadness and pain, because I had known sadness and pain. Through their illness, because I had known illness. I can see how I grew; deeper, darker, stronger, better, wiser than I had been before. Refined by the fire of life, everything false being turned to ash. Kinder, gentler, more loving. More compassionate.
There were others who turned back to hold their hand out to me, to help me walk the last few steps. There have been many others. I am grateful for you today.
No, it’s not necessary to be grateful for our suffering. Not by my account. I am grateful for the person I am today, though. I acknowledge I would not be her; I would not be me, without it. I’m grateful that, even if it took me forever, I always got to my feet. I’m grateful that, in addition to the worrisome cards that were dealt me, I was also dealt the card of resilience. Of friendship. Of humor and love. It wasn’t the beautiful moments that shaped me. As much as I treasure them. I was shaped in these difficult times, plain and simple. I know who I am and what I am made of because of the times that I was broken.
I am here for you, friend. I will turn back and hold my hand out to you. I have been there.
