There were two beautiful moments in my night last night. Really… there’s been a lot of good things going on. Lots of things mixed in which help to overcome the negativity that I’m still contending with.
I was supposed to have a phone call with one of my best friends last night. She called and I stepped outside to chat with her. I had driven over to Sir’s place because I had felt lonely. I haven’t had a “hard” day in a while, but I live in Orlando, and the mass shooting hurts a part of me. It was mostly a distant hurt until I read something on Facebook.
It was a quote from an anonymous cop. He said that he had always thought after a shooting that it would be quiet, but that’s not how it was. After the shooting there was the sound of countless cell phones ringing. Phones that would never be answered. He said that sound was the worst sound he had ever heard.
That… That touched and connected with something inside of me. It reminded me of the six hours I sat on the plane flying out to Vegas, not sure if mom would be alive when it landed. Not knowing if she was coding. Not knowing if she was recovering. Six hours of sitting, waiting. Six hours of not knowing.
Just like with those phones. Ringing. Ringing. A dial tone going to voice mail. Never knowing. Waiting. Waiting.
I started feeling alone. A bad alone. It was like ice in my chest, creeping out from my heart charaka and I knew if I didn’t do something that it would consume me. All of me. I knew I needed help.
I messaged Sir, just saying hi. I never know how to start conversations when I need to be around people. What am I supposed to say? “I’m slipping into depression because mom died. Please let me come over because I feel like I’m becoming emotionally unstable”?
I’m pretty sure that’s not how that conversation is supposed to go down. But when I’m in the moment I can’t think. All I can do is feel. And so my messages are short. They most likely convey nothing of what I’m feeling because I’m terrified of coming off as needy and making the other person feel like helping me is an obligation. I know none of this is easy for the people around me. I don’t make it easy by hiding how I feel.
I didn’t hide it yesterday, though. I told Sir that I wasn’t ok, and he offered for me to come over. I got to do laundry and see Scarlet since she’s not allowed to stay with me at the extended stay.
And I was going to have my phone call with Allison finally. We haven’t talked since the day mom died.
I was actually on the phone with her, had just answered when one of Sir’s neighbors came walking down the stairs. He waved to get my attention, so I told Allison to hold on a second.
She ended up hanging up on me and I don’t blame her since I had a 15 minute conversation with this guy. I don’t even know his name. But he said some of the kindest things to me.
He said that he had seen me coming and going over the month and felt bad for not introducing himself sooner. He said that it was his birthday and that he was celebrating (read drunk) but that he wanted me to know that he thought I had a beautiful soul and that the Lord was working through me. That he had plans for me. That I was blessed.
It was so hard not to cry. We hugged twice during those 15 minutes because I was so moved by his words.
I’m not Christian, but that doesn’t mean anything. I believe people can see goodness within others. I know I’ve seen my share of amazingly beautiful people. Beautiful souls. And for this person to take the time to come down simply to tell me that, during a time that I felt like I was dying on the inside… I don’t know. I’m still moved. I still want to cry thinking about it.
I keep worrying. My move is coming up. I leave the 11th of July. I still don’t know if my choices are right. I still don’t know if I’m about to fuck everything up. I don’t know. I don’t know. And not knowing drives me crazy because all I want is to know that I’m doing the right thing.
And this person, a total stranger, says that I am beautiful, compassionate, and that the Universe has plans for me.
I did end up having my phone call with Allison. A two hour phone call. We talked about her up coming wedding. We talked about how I’m most likely staying a week with her as I travel out to Vegas. We talked about mom’s death. We talked about Zane and the apartment situation. We talked about the life insurance check. We listened. We laughed. We cried. We shared.
And at the end when I said I was scared about moving, that I was scared of messing up my life, she said that she had no fear. She knew I would be successful.
A few years ago, forever ago, I came to the conclusion that my definition of success meant happiness. As long as I am happy with my life then I am successful regardless of what I do or where I end up.
Hearing Allison say those words, hearing her say she knew I would be successful equated in my brain to her saying she knew I would be happy. I don’t know why but that, too, touched something inside me. It’s like the Universe knew that I needed some encouragement. Some loving support. A comforting hug and a pep talk.
Em switched my laundry to the dryer while I was on the phone. A small random act of kindness that made me feel cared for. One small task that I didn’t have to worry about. One, small, nearly insignificant part of my day that someone considered and took care of for me, and yet it leaves me humbled and gracious.
I’m still processing through things. Not just last night, but life in general. I’m pretty sure I will be for a while, especially now that I’m beginning to have the space to do it. But I wanted to take a moment to write about last night because I need to remember these moments. The moments where I don’t know… the Universe reached out and let me know that things really will be ok.
Part of me wonders if these are signs or something from mom. Part of me thinks it’s stupid to think of things like that because they’re not logical. But another part of me doesn’t care because I’m still scared about what I’m doing with my life. I’m scared that she would be disappointed even though I know she wouldn’t be.
She would encourage me to do what I thought was right, what I thought would be the best thing for me.
I want her to be proud of me. I want her to be here. And as I type that I feel slightly better and my tears have stopped because I know she’s still here. I’m getting better about catching myself when I think those thoughts.
“All I want is for her to be here.”
But she’s already here. There’s nothing to want.