Monday, November 21, 2011

This Crazy Ride Is My Life

I always hope, that when I have something to say, that it's relevant. That it can mean something to someone besides me. That it may help someone. That someone may be able to identify with my words. My thoughts. My problems. My life.

I always try my best to keep the information told to me in confidence, to myself. I would like to know, that I am treated the same. At the same time, I know that I take life experiences, that are not necessarily mine alone to bear, and I share them. I try my best to share them only from my perspective. I never want to try and second guess anyone's feelings. I never want to try and describe anyone's personal heartache. Mainly, because I don't think that can be done.

I have a recovering alcoholic Father, twenty three years sober. I have a recovering alcoholic husband, five years married, and sixteen years sober.  I lived my first marriage with an alcoholic and he is not sober yet. I probably did not leave him soon enough. Finances and children tend to prolong some things that are better stopped. I hope my children will not suffer from my decisions. My decision to stay longer than I should. And my decision to leave when I did.

I am a very strong woman, raised by very strong parents. Very caring, and passionate parents. They did not always express themselves the way I thought they should have, but I learned the lessons I needed. I understood what they wanted me to know. Their methods, while not mine, and albeit too strong, were heartfelt. I left behind, what I chose not to carry with me, and took, what was necessary for me to survive.

And I have survived. I survived with my two sons for almost thirteen years. Alone. We have raised each other. When what I brought to the table was too much, they showed me a softness that would allow me to feel shame. When I was more than I needed to be, they showed me humor, and taught me the ability to laugh at my own idiocy.

And my boys taught me never ending love is real. It is the most concrete love I have ever known. It is indestructible. Undeniable. And most times, indescribable. It runs as deep as my veins will allow. Sinking into the marrow of my bones. I will never in my life love anyone more. I know, I could never love them any less.

My second husband, and my last, has taught me patience I never knew existed, and that slow, quiet love is just as wonderful as the wild, wild ride I heard so much about, so many years ago. He is steady, he is real, and he is the plain hard facts. He does not quibble about his thoughts, and is slow to relieve himself of guilt. But he will, because I taught him that. I taught him that all children need to hear I love you. That all children need hugs. And that when you're sorry, say so. It matters.

He taught me, that all men from the back woods of South Carolina are not to be judged by their speech. That he was smart enough, and man enough, to leave his racist feelings behind, and love our gay son as if he were still, just our son. Because he is, just our son. He taught me that you can change, when you find someone you love enough, to change for. And he has taught me quiet strength is the most powerful of all. Both of my children possess it as well. I am still learning.

I wouldn't change anything about my life. Not one, single, solitary thing. Not the choices. Good or bad. Not the decisions. Right or wrong. We will all have to answer for our lives one day. I hope my good outweighs the bad. I hope my heart has worked harder than my thoughts. I hope He thinks that I tried hard enough with everything that I should have. And I hope He forgives me for the times I fell short.

Love yourself. Love your choices. Live for everyone you love and live for yourself. And never, ever, regret. Because without what we have, and what we've been through, we would never be right here. Right now. And I wouldn't miss the rest of this ride for anything.

copyright © 2011 Michelle Mount Mims

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