Living Life
There are days when I find myself staring out my window at the world that surrounds me, and I keep wondering how much I must have changed since all this began. Not just as a parent, but as a person in general. The truth is, alienation doesn’t just take your child, it chips away at you too. But in those quiet moments, when everything settles down and I’m left alone with my thoughts, it gives me time to stop and really look at myself.
I have to admit, my pages may be a bit torn and tattered. They may even be missing a few of them here and there. But I’m still readable. And I guess that still counts for something.
As far as the past? There’s no denying that it’ll always tug at me. And the future? Well, I’ve learned not to hang all my hope on a tomorrow that I can’t even see yet. But right now, in the present, that’s something I can actually do something with. That’s where my real living happens.
Keep in mind, I don’t spend every waking moment writing my Reflections. Most of my days are a balancing act, trying to keep my mind and heart in sane moments while doing everything I can not to slip into a place I don’t want to be in. To keep going, I have to find meaning wherever I can.
Sometimes, that means spending time up in the mountains where I can feel totally alive. Other times, it may be in the kitchen where my hands are wrapped around the handle of a cast iron skillet that’s been with me longer than I can remember.
And then there’s Avery. She’s our Labrador retriever who came into our lives after we lost the last one about a year ago. She’s not just a family pet; she’s actually part of my daily therapy. I love those moments when we head over to the park and I get to watch her chase tennis balls, with her eyes all lit up until she can’t run anymore.
It’s because of these reminders, I refuse to let alienation steal everything from me. Certainly, not the small joys. Nor does the quiet win. And definitely not any of my “todays”.
And then there’s Avery. She’s our Labrador retriever who came into our lives after we lost the last one about a year ago. She’s not just a family pet; she’s a reminder that joy still exists, even in the smallest moments. Some of my favorite ones lately have been spent at the park, watching her take off after tennis balls like it’s the greatest mission in the world. The look on her face, the way her eyes light up, and how she never wants the moments to end…
I refuse to let alienation steal everything. Not the small joys. Not the quiet wins. And definitely not any of my “todays”.
In the end, we may not be able to rewrite the past or predict the future, but we still get to choose how we show up in the present. And on the hardest days, that’s where I’ll be, doing my best to live life to the fullest, even in the middle of this thunderous storm called, alienation.
Don’t ever let the darkness convince you that you have to stay in it forever. Let yourself feel normal again, let yourself live. Because living doesn’t mean you’ve surrendered. Instead, it means you’re still standing. And trust me, that counts for something.
David Shubert