This is my face on a day like today when I feel complete.
I have been broken.
I’ve been discarded.
Having your parents tell you you’re no longer part of their life is a trauma without recovery.
I’ve spent years attempting to bandage my virtual wounds and cover up the scars from so much sadness.
Today I feel whole.
I’m not getting any younger.
There are wrinkles on my forehead and bags under my eyes from the normal things in life: a job that wears me down, a cat that keeps me awake at night, being too hot under a down comforter, and simple things like that.
But the big pain has drifted away.
The sleepless nights of guilt and worry have slowly shrunk into fleeting moments like hearing a song in the car that makes me feel like a kid again…and then the tears well up in my eyes…and I just let the good memories flood over the bad ones. Before I know it, I’m singing along, with tears rolling down my cheeks and a smile on my face.
The hurt hasn’t gotten any smaller, but it has somehow left my view. Sometimes it swells back in like bad weather. A hurricane of childhood memories and lost tomorrows.
The sound of my Mom’s laugh, the smell of my Dad’s after shave. The way their golf clubs always rattled in the trunk of the car.
And then it subsides…at least for the time being.
But here I am. This is me.
32 years old.
Smiling in spite of it all.
Loving them in spite of it all.
Forgiving myself in spite of it all.
And happy because of it all.
