Why U Bullshittin'?

I remember weird shit. Like, the first time I squeezed, panicked and felt fear at the "Fun House" at the Frog Jump. I never did do well with being stuck, and I swear I started running as soon as I realized I could. But, I remember, getting to the top of that Fun House where the distorted mirrors are. That threw me. I was sure that my neck, head and legs were not really 10 feet long. But…I was looking at the proof; however, I was dead-set that I was still the same. I had been fooled before, not like that, more mind blowing. At seven-years-old I sat on Santa’s lap at the mall, which was a huge trip in itself, and I saw Santa’s real beard under the fluffy white. My mom saw my face, Santa too, and I could feel their anxiety. My mother did not quickly create a situation that made sense of why the "Santa-stand-in" was here... So, after I picked my jaw off the floor, I had one question: Did you lie to me?

And on that day, I learned shit is whack. And that people lie. So, holding that memory, I knew the mirrors were not showing the real me, and it was safe to laugh because I knew the truth.

I am realizing words exchanged can be much like a fun house mirror. Two participants with escalated tone seeing each other as a distorted truth. Each knowing they are correct in their view, but can clearly see you are not what your supposed to be. I knew when I was young I couldn’t yell at a mirror to change and show the real me. So how the fuck did I end up in a house of distorted mirrors and why do I keep asking them to see the real me? It’s a waste of energy. Probably Santa let me in. You simply cannot ask a person to hear or see what they don’t want to. Distorted Mirror people are fucked and can eventually distort your own view…If you let them.

I also grew up scared as shit. Like one foot off the edge of a cliff, accordingly, I was going to die all the time. Ironically, this did not make me timid, it made me wildly strong, aware and … very curious. I grew up scared because that was the parenting plan that came most easy to my mom, and, to her, it was hilarious.

Oh shit, this is where the mirrors come out because “scared as shit” looks bloody and tormented and surrounded by concrete walls and chains…to me that is way beyond scared as shit and my mom wouldn’t laugh at that. I am talking the kind of scared as shit you get when there is uncertainty in stability. I should be the poster child for Flight or Fight. I was always running both mentally and physically and my mom was always ready to get in the ring.

My legs were not long enough to out run my childhood, in hind sight, it may have fueled some of best and proudest moments where my legs won many races - even one marathon - but I ran 20 others. I did not know I was going to be able to out run my fear, I was not a runner in my college years. I didn’t take anything really seriously, especially exercise. Interesting that with the birth of my son, I began to run through my past. Thousands of miles, literally, with my son, and 6 years later my daughter, in a jogging stroller that rolled on forever…This time became paramount to me, I had to have it daily. I’d run in the dark, in snow, in rain, in pain, because the high was insane and I didn’t need a god damn thing but my determination to get out the door. To this day, the only runs I regret are the ones not taken. Those miles all those years built my foundation of parenting. I was finally running and my childhood ran with me, I became friends with it.

I wasn’t running away, in fact, running always brought me home.

My childhood ran with me into adulthood. Therapy without words that strengthened my soul and defined my legs as my best asset. And, good thing, because adulting can fight like a bitch. I used my legs, over my fists, to fight through life. It defined my voice and I learned my mind is much more powerful than any fist. Plus….you probably couldn’t catch me.

But, without warning and without any understanding of how to hold on to true love, my heart fell behind my legs. I lost my path home. I Forest Gump’ed away, instead of towards. I was taught to leave, that men were not needed and to never stay when there is pain. I taught myself how to run through pain, but I had no idea how to love through it.

I contemplate a life that would have strengthened my love, but I don’t regret the wisdom and growth it has shown. I realize there will never be another time when I held your heart so close to mine. And, I have learned that the perseverance of two souls that grow together, through all the shit, is a strength that solidarity cannot teach.

We’ve all heard ‘You can’t change people”…Ironically, it usually comes from the mouths of those that still try to do just that, and it always comes alone. If you’ve always walked alone, then maybe it’s time to accept: You can’t change You. If you can accept things you can’t change in another, what a beautiful gift. Your heart would beat through the struggle even when your fists want to speak, you’d let them be held. Alone should be a source of pride and power, but it can’t bend you over in the shower. Or pick you up when you’re world closes in.

So here I am at 45, scared once again from a much more sophisticated power. I cannot run or leave my diagnosis. Guess I needed to learn how to commit for life and how to have a timeless love…with myself. But not by myself. Pieces of my soul have illuminated through true love of friendships I had not leaned on in years and years and it’s brought joy in my soul and strength to this tremendous fall. It’s a beautiful shift that I probably would have ignored if I didn’t accept cancer as a gift. I am fighting, mom, now more aware than ever, but I’d rather my fists be held and my mind in focus as I step into the ring, because this fight is deeper than the surface. I meditate with intention, I know my soul knows the life changes that can heal. Of course, I have doctors of quite a variety and a sophisticated medical treatment that is now my relationship, but deeper within I know I can shift my path. As I’ve dug deep into me beyond the medical technology, priceless treatment has come through these friendships that also never left and I realize I am not alone. And I’m only accepting inspiring, passionate souls to enter this space. It is amazing how much larger the world appears when you let go of the drama and stop talking to fun house mirrors. They will never listen.

And if there is love again on this path, it will forever last. True love and acceptance is not in the mirror or defined on a scale, it is beyond bullshit games, control or force of change…it is blind to material features and monetary demands, and when you want to scream, kick and fight, it holds your hands.

Wisdom rarely yells. Gratitude cannot be bought. Your Light cannot be turned off (but it can be dimmed).

Love, true love, cannot get lost.