When the Sun Sets

You grow up being told everything happens for a reason. Deep down in my heart I know that's true, and as I felt the sun kiss my covered skin beneath the chilly Newport Beach air, I cried in wonder at what God intended to produce from this. It was painful, bittersweet and ironic; the three words most commonly used to describe life these days. I sat in the same place, smelled the same ocean and soaked up the same sun, but something was entirely different. Actually more than one something, but one was the feeling in me.

Once upon a time this was a carefree blissful moment of "anything can happen" and now it was a worrying stressful moment of "what is going to happen?" Life is unfair, that's another point I'll give credit to the world for actually warning me about. It truly is. When wars are waging for no valid reason with only innocents as casualties while we slowly alienate ourselves from the gravity of it all because of time lapse, life is unfair. When you put your hope and trust in something and someone and you take that leap of faith only to belly flop on pavement, life is unfair. When you sit upon the most beautiful bench staring out into the water created by God, as sailors pass by, swimmers pass by, and who knows what else, and yet you ache so uncontrollably that you cry, life is unfair. And when after all that you get one silver lining, immediately grab hold of it and think, "There is a chance," it breaks almost instantaneously and drops you back down on that black hot pavement, life is unfair. But I guess, like I noted in one of my previous posts, humans are either born lucky, blessed, or some rare few, lucky and blessed. This was a moment of bad luck, a long one, and yet such an unmistakable blessing it hurts. The mere fact of knowing that is just a blessing in itself.

It is a blessing when you know your Lord so well you actually hear Him. You may hear Him through actions, through gestures and through life experiences. For a while I've drowned out His words, pushing aside my intuition and gut feeling to follow blind faith. But how could I be so blind when I know that with God’s Faith there is never to be blindness? I cried more.

For a while now I prayed for signs, like a ship lost at sea looking for the lighthouse. A beacon of safety. I think He sent me many, but they were not what my current desires wanted so I ignored them, and continued to do so until I cracked. Shattered into jagged tiny shards of glass like the one from the window that collapsed in my house exactly one year ago. It was a frightening sight as I stared at the glass frozen in its space but so thoroughly cracked. It was clear that at any point gravity would overpower those pieces and they'd fall. They were me and I was them. I held on so tight when I knew the damage was done and the only thing left was to fall so that I could pick up the pieces to start again, and yet I refused.

Everyone around me was hurt, sliced by my newly formed jagged edges. I was changed, and not for the better. Ah, what life can do to you when you enter it with hope. I'm not saying look at the glass half empty, just be wary of what it may be half full of. If you’ve been drinking something that clouds your judgment and makes you lose your way, it’s time to let it go. Pick up your pieces, take a step forward, and watch the sun set on this chapter of life. All that matters is that your heart is finally in the right direction, knowing that the intention is to prepare for the next sunrise.

Trust and Go

One of the things the internet has revolutionized for us is the expansion of sharing, sometimes so far that an alienation of labor occurs. I came across this quote today, author unknown, and it just made me laugh in awe at how ironic my life can often be. “A relationship without trust is like a car without gas. You can stay in it as long as you want but it won’t go anywhere.”

I remember the moment I looked deep into my ex’s eyes, beneath the magical skies of Disney’s fireworks, and truthfully and faithfully confessed, “I trust you. With all my heart.” Trust far exceeds love in my scale and I guess he didn’t realize what value that confession carried.

It’s quite a difficult thing to trust someone, definitely when it’s someone who made it difficult to do so. However, it’s even harder to trust yourself, especially after for so long you were made to believe you were too unstable to be trusted.

They say time heals all wounds. That’s what I’ve been hearing from a few these days. Deep down I knew they were right, but I couldn’t quite express to them what it felt like to realize my trust and self-trust was just as tarnished as my heart; my intuition too betrayed to speak up again. That was until this very morning, when I found myself sandwiched between two totaled cars, on my usual two-hour commute to work.

The whole incident happened in literally a blink of an eye. Red lights flashed before me. Brakes slammed beneath me. Car behind me swerving away and into its neighboring car. Both cars ricocheting in a spin, knocking into me before bouncing straight into the center divider. All that remained were visions of smoke, air bags and shattered metal.

It took a good 75 seconds of shock before I was awoken by a knock on my window. “Ma’am! Ma’am! Are you okay?” I must have nodded because he replied, “Yes? Just a little shocked huh? I’m an off duty fire officer and the authorities have been notified. Stay put. You’re going to be alright.”

My knees were shivering so violently that I fell against the side of my car as the officer spoke with me. The electric zap of pain kept shooting up and down my spine, knowing that surely the real damage would be felt later. That’s how my heart had been for a while. Too absorbed in the shock of a very ugly divorce that it took a few weeks before the pang hit me, just as hard as the silver Mustang did. And both were ridiculously hard.

I even recall the scene in my rearview mirror, watching the car approaching me, knowing the inevitable was going to happen, while still praying that that 1% chance of hope would kick in. It’s the same percentage I hold on to in other aspects of life, although I usually call it faith. The 99% won and I know that’s destiny, as was my marriage.

When the police officer said I was good to go I sat in my car for a while, watching the ambulance wheel away the people in the two other cars. “I’m blessed,” I kept repeating to myself. “I could have been one of those on the way to hospital. I’m going to be okay.” I looked at the two cars, hoods thoroughly crushed to a pulp. “Even my car is blessed. It’s only the entire left side and the tire and the bumper, but it still runs. We’re okay.”

It was on the traffic-less drive home that I faced a literal experience of mistrusting myself. Despite knowing that the morning’s collision was not my fault—the woman behind me swerved into both cars—I couldn’t help but be paranoid at how fast I was going, how much space I placed between me and every car around me, how instantly I hit the brakes when necessary. It made the drive all the more intolerable. I silenced my phone, kept the radio off and seriously drove with my eyes peeled, constantly monitoring every mirror and every window.

Suddenly the confident (sometimes speedy) driver was starting all over. I remembered the anxiety of driving with my instructor during training. “Faster!” he would often say because I was too scared to press it with even my toes.

I praised God upon arriving to my driveway, the car making very awful screeching noises the whole way over. When I got out and stared at the damage, I felt like I was looking in the mirror. That was me. We had both been hit, hard. We faced the damage and were banged up, but you know what? We are both going to be okay. With some time, some repairs and some absolutely amazing spirits (like loving family, loving friends and loving coworkers) we are going to return back to our true selves or even better.

Regardless of the efforts aimed at destroying every piece of who I am, piling all the blame on me, I know the truth. I know my strength. I know my faith. I know myself. Some of the final few un-regrettable words I said in my relationship were, “I am happy and content with who I am and that’s something beautiful. It’s what made me give you a chance, being told that you loved all of me…I don’t know where that changed.” Maybe it never existed.

After a year of almost losing every ounce of self-respect and self-love I owned, it took a lot of courage to remember them and state them with utmost confidence. And it is the truth. For a while I know I will live (and drive) with some hesitation. The thing about me is I always have a destination, so no matter what bump in the road I face, I can’t help but get back up and keep moving forward. All I really need to do is to trust and go. Trust and go.