Sunny, With A Chance of Chicago

Ah… l’amour. That grand passion that sweeps us off our feet and then unceremoniously bashes our head into a wall like a battering ram. (Ugh.) Yeah… Being single and no longer on Recovery Road can be quite lovely. The possibilities are endless, really. Unless, of course, you go ahead and decide to fall for a person who’s battling some particularly nasty demons on their own Recovery Road. You’ll just jump in and save the day, right? It didn’t work last time- but it’s bound to work this time, right?? Um…? What the F*&^&*^%%((&$$#??!!! NO!!!!!! WRONG!!! WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WROOOOOONNNNGGG!!!!!

(sigh)…

And this, my friends, is where we need to stop and have what I like to call a “come to Jesus.” A Road to Recovery… well, it’s very serious. And very personal. Try as you might, you’ll never be able to fight someone else’s fight. (<—Unintentional rhyme.) They will need to learn to fight on their own. And, most importantly, not everybody wants to be saved- believe it or not. Who knew?

(…Damn. Just when you think you have love all figured out…)

At this point, the only thing you can do- because you should and it’s what’s best for EVERYONE- is to step out. Step away. Let the battle go on without you. Cause it’s not your battle to fight. Remember how I used the Frodo and Sam analogy before? (Please see “Back in the Saddle Again”) Sam risked his life to go on this journey with Frodo (even though Frodo repeatedly told him to eff off), and literally carried Frodo into Mordor. Then Frodo was like, “Hey thanks, but um… no. Sorry!” And then Sean Astin does that awesome I-think-I’m-going-to-throw-up-I’m-so-disappointed-and-sad face that he does so well… (“Goonies never say die!!” *lip quiver*…) It’s heartbreaking, really. I mean, didn’t you just want to give Sam a big hug and a lifetime supply of chapstick? Well that face, my friends, that pathetic face… will be yours.

We always think that our love will throw the ring into the fire and then we can go skipping off back to the Shire… but that’s not the case is it? There are ugly goblins biting off fingers, boiling hot lava threatening your baby-soft Hobbit complexion, giant eagles, slow motion homoerotic reunions…  A $10 movie ticket, giant tub of popcorn, 3 hours, and at least 2 packages of Twizzlers later- I was still waiting for Frodo and Sam to just freaking kiss and be together already!! But even though Frodo was grateful for all that Sam had done for him, reality was still too much for him to bear. And he left. Again. Alone. Like he should have done in the first place. (As far as I’m concerned, anyway…)

You can’t save everyone.   

The best you can do is wait patiently at the end of their Road and hope that they make it out alive, with as few scars as possible. And if the end of their Road leads them to another place that is not your arms, that’s ok too… Either way, you were always there for them… Loving them, praying for them, shouting words of encouragement every now and then… But letting them fight their ugly goblins on their own is key. In the end, when they come out sweating and strong and beaming with pride over the battle that they have just won-  you can sit down with them, laughing, and comparing battle scars… And that is when you can figure out your love story. Because “happily ever after” is just that.

“After.”

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (also know as 4 months ago), there was a girl who was running for her life down a road called Recovery. Along the way, she encountered many horrible beasts… There was the Know-It-All, with his greasy voice and wearing enough cheap cologne to choke a horse. The Butthead Beetles- who made it impossible for her to sleep for two months. And of course, who could forget the dreaded Karma Fairy who wailed on this girl’s face with her sparkly wand of fate? (…bitch) Any other person would have just let themself be defeated (especially when the Know-It-All and the Karma Fairy started tag-teaming each other like it was Friday Night SmackDown on WWE). But not this girl. Nope. Nuh uh. No, this girl came prepared.  She was like Lara Croft… only with slightly smaller boobs… and there weren’t any tombs… Ok, so maybe she wasn’t like Lara Croft at all- but someone equally as badass and sexy (hey- a girl can dream, right?).

The battle was long and hard, and yes- there were definitely days where she felt as if she would never return from the dark places she had stumbled into. But… she did. And somehow… somehow, the pain vanished. Soon there were beautiful Butterflies and beautiful White Horses with beautiful men (YUM); and the tears- wait, what tears? There were tears at one point?! Huh. Strange…

Anyway, one day as she was bending over picking flowers, she stood up and realized, Holy crap! I’m picking flowers!! And welp, that was that. She had wandered into her meadow and not even noticed it. I wish I could say that there was a big fireworks show with a jolly old man waiting to greet her with a handshake and a certificate at the end of the Road, but sadly there was not. Just like there wasn’t anyone handing out water and cheering her on from the sidelines while she was running with everything she had down Recovery Road. She ended just as she started: Alone… As it should be.

In the end, there’s only her and the quiet sense of satisfaction that she had made it out alive and unbroken… Well, not entirely unbroken. More like broken, but then rebuilt into something much more extraordinary. All of her demons have been peacefully contained within the Woods… and while she doesn’t miss them one bit, she is oddly grateful for their presence and their incessant need to “teach her a lesson.” (By the way, the message was received- loud and clear.) How sad to think about being on that Road, scared and all alone, learning nothing… How would one then find the courage to go on day after day? To me, that’s scarier than any Butthead Beetle I’ve ever come across. And trust me, I’ve come across some freaky ones. 

So, here it is. The proverbial “Meadow.” Bittersweet, but overwhelmingly beautiful. And there’s no one here, so why not lie down naked in the soft grass and take it all in? (I won’t be doing that, cause I’d break out in a terrible rash- but if you feel like it, by all means!) You’re free now. Anything is possible. Crazy, right? ANYTHING is possible. Wow…

My oh my, what an adventure that last 4 months was. I think it’s about time for another. don’t you? ; )

It’s amazing how much life can change for a person in the span of 3 months…

What started out as a chaotic hurricane-like storm, slowly turns into a light breeze. There is an occasional gust of debris filled wind that makes a mess out of the next hour or two of life, but in general the world has become quiet. Objects no longer fly precariously overhead. The sounds of glass shattering and metal ripped away by wailing winds have all stopped. The once green sky filled with ominous clouds is now a tired looking blue. Yes, there is a “calm before the storm,” but there’s also a calm that comes after it too. And somehow, you’ve made it out alive. Slightly bruised, but alive.

When left to survey the world around you, you see a torn picture here… a charred letter there… But otherwise, all that’s left of the life you had built for yourself over the past years is a pile of rubble.

Damn.

In the beginning, the thought of rebuilding was overwhelming. Seemingly impossible. You’re done. You’ve been defeated and that’s that. But what about shelter when it gets cold?, you think. And what will people think of me if they see that I’ve given up? Well, now that just can’t happen. So- you rebuild. Slowly. Brick by brick. Block by block. A month goes by… Two… Three…  With the help of your loved ones, a life that somewhat resembles your old one, but yet is nothing like it, starts to form. Aesthetically, it’s more beautiful than you had ever imagined. The outside is sturdy and perfectly molded. Inside, there are no more crossed electrical wires. No more cracks in the ceiling. No more stained carpets. Everything is sparkling and pristine. Of course, there are still touches of yourself that will never change (pink towels, a collection of Elvis memorabilia, the light smell of powdery perfume), but all in all everything is fresh. A fresh start. What was it about that decrepit old place that kept you from tearing it down yourself?? This-  this new life… This is what you were striving for all along.

Much to the chagrin of certain people (particularly of the male variety), three months is not nearly enough time to allow someone to live here with you. They may get to spend the night from time to time, but this is a place that you need to have all to yourself for a while. And sometimes, it’s nice to be alone. (Especially for decorating purposes.)

Isn’t it funny how it takes a devastating storm to destroy nearly everything you knew for you to build the perfect life from scratch? Yeah…

I guess you just can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.

XO,

Sam

When coming to the end of your Road, you may notice that the idea of continuing to the Meadow beyond starts to become a little daunting… What’s out there for me? How will I possible start over? Will there be a similar Road that I’ll have to travel not long after I finish this one? Will anyone recognize me now that I’m 7lbs lighter without a tan?? These questions and more cause us to hesitate a bit in our somewhat steady gait. The finish line- you’re nearly there… But, somehow, the end of this Road is almost as scary as the beginning…

Then, a beautiful blue Butterfly perches itself lightly to your hand… For a few moments, you catch a glimpse of yourself reflected in its wings. Wow… could that really be you? Out of the corner of your eye, you see a swirl of color and look up to find that your whole body is surrounded by these breathtaking Butterflies. Everywhere you turn, you see your image flashing in their wings. And what you see is stunning… What was once soft is now lean and strong (must have been all the stupid running… who knew?). Your smile is so much more sincere, your laugh is louder… On the inside, your heart no longer feels torn- but stronger, beating steadily (again, probably the friggin running). Your mind is clear and free of worry. These Butterflies remind you that you are strong (even beautiful, maybe), and somehow you know they are grateful for you… You, the girl who’s been running non-stop down Recovery Road, who on any other day, you assume, looks like a hot sweaty mess. But these Butterflies, they reflect only what they see. And that reflection looks pretty amazing.

So don’t worry about what’s beyond this Road. You still “got it.” The Butterflies showed you that. Slow down to a jog if you must, but don’t you stop. After all, getting to the end is the whole reason you started running down this Road to begin with.

… Or is it?

Once in a Comedy and Character class, I was chosen to improv an entire scene by myself. Dressed as a giant baby. Sounds hysterical, right? Yeah… It wasn’t. A few people in class pity-clapped, but mostly they just looked horrified. Great, I thought. My life is ruined. I’m not funny. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to start shopping at the Dress Barn, planning dinner parties, and using words like “deLIGHTful” and “LOVE-ly” to describe the cheese platter set out by the wife of my future husband’s business associate, because clearly I will have no personality of my own. Awesome. I wanted to die…. Then, out of nowhere, my teacher started applauding wildly. “Yaaaaay!!!,” he said. “Congratulations! You failed!!!” Um… what? It was truly one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. I mean, the man might as well have had lobsters crawling out of his ears. I had failed (oh my GOD, did I fail) and he was congratulating me? Was this a joke?

“You see,” he explained, “sometimes you succeed, sometimes you fail. Those are the only two options for every situation. What counts is: Did you try your hardest? Did you learn something in the process? Yes? Yes? And you failed? Yes? Awesome! That was an awesome failure!” In the moment, this did not make me feel better. In fact, if I heard him use the word “fail” in regards to my performance one more time, I was pretty sure that I was going to headbutt his face and then jump out the window to my imminent death. What the hell? Seriously?? Who, in their right mind, celebrates failure?

Well, as my adolescent years waned, I began to see the point that my crazy teacher was trying to make. Life is a series of ups and downs. You win a little, you lose a little. The Universe is very clear about its need to balance itself out. It really all boils down to how you deal with your wins and losses. Rudyard Kipling said to “… meet Triumph with Disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.” This is so true. Success and Failure go hand in hand. Like joy and sorrow, black and white, Milli and Vanilli. You can never truly have one, unless you’ve truly had the other. Amen? Amen. So why not treat them the same?

Now… hold on a sec. Not EVERY failure is to be celebrated. Not right away, anyhow. For instance- if I “try my best” at piercing my own navel and FAIL, I most likely will not be celebrating. Just sayin. (Or, I’ll be celebrating, but probably in the emergency room.) Months later, however (after massive amounts of antibiotics), I would probably laugh about it. Just like I often laugh at my mom’s mullet and overuse of shoulder pads in the 80’s. Or the fact that I used to fantasize about marrying the lead singer of Hanson. Classic examples of epic failures that are awesome (awesomely hilarious!), and can now be celebrated.

So the next time you feel like the world just took a big ol’ heaping Cleveland Steamer right on your chest, try to remember that, even though it stinks now (heh), ten years from now it will have been just another day where you failed instead of succeeded. Ten years from now, this failure will mean less than all of the other failures that followed, and even less than the successes that came after that.

Here I am, ten years later, thinking about that one day in college when I decided that a giant baby trying to do a sexy photo shoot would be funny. (What?? No, Sam, no!! Don’t do it!!!) And ten years later, I am SO grateful for that failure… NOW it’s funny!

But only because I failed.