I have lived on this earth for, 33 years, 4 months, and 13 days as of today. And Ive got to say, besides the dump truck of a mess of the last few months, they have been pretty good. Thats not saying that life didn’t have any difficulties. I can’t say there wasn’t heartache or loss or tragedy or rough times. My life was thankfully not marred by a lot of things that haunt people, especially girls, growing up. With all that being said, here I stand, as an adult, and I am at the beginning of my life again. Divorced at 33? If I had the ground work for success from my childhood, how could things of rotted and decayed so much that the breath of a whistle could blow it over? How could I be here now? At first, I saw this as a major disadvantage. I’m here in my 30s with two kids and starting my life over? Bummer dude. Real bummer.
Then.....something shifted.
I’m not sure if it’s just the natural progression of things and time or new realizations or I just got tired of feeling down.
I started to be very intentional with my life. Or at least with my relationships with people.
I’ve always felt that I never really stood out. I was never an outcast, never shunned by my peers but I always felt I lacked something that a lot of other people had or wanted. I felt I was good enough to get my foot in the door and then just enough to blend in with the wall paper. A wall flower. Not a nobody but not a lot of people’s favorite. At least in my mind.
Why am I explaining this? To give you a point of reference to how I am starting to feel now. (Spoiler Alert: it’s good!)
Over the last few months, I’ve been trying to build momentum. To get space between my old life and into this new great beyond in front of me. This wild and untamed life that’s been left unchecked and unchallenged by my passive thoughts of the past. It’s uncharted territory.
At first, I have to admit, I was terrified. I thought I had nothing left to add to my life. I had already given so much to my marriage and it still failed. What more could I offer myself? I had lost half of my identity. I felt like I was sentenced to be a wall flower until I was old and gray and couldn’t remember life before that.
I had nothing but time on my hands. But the funny thing about time is, it moves on.
And so did I.
I wasn’t idle. I made plans. I made moves. I instigated conversations and hang outs. I made travel plans. I invited people over or even invited myself over to where they were going. I made tacos and played cards and drank wine and rapped to Colt 45 by Afro Man. I hung twinkle lights in my kids bedroom windows. I bought a new shower curtain! I never knew a small $15 Target purchase can sooth parts of me that I didn’t even know were ragged. I rekindled friendships that had gone to be forgotten or neglected. I encouraged my friends and rooted for their success and in turn they encouraged and rooted for me! New paths were forms, new inside jokes were made and my camera roll had a ton of new snaps shots and faces it didn’t recognize. I hung out with friends in my backyard until 3 am, digging my toes in the sand in dark lake water of my backyard, laughing about memories almost forgotten. I had drinks and conversations with my girlfriends and we didn’t even notice how awful our server was because we were just happy to be in eachother’s company. The dust on the floor of my life and memories has been disturbed! And it’s awesome! For the first time, in a long time, I feel visible. I feel like I have more value than I ever felt before. I feel like I have something to offer. Maybe I always did. Maybe I painted myself as the wall flower before. I’m not here to weigh the whys and the how’s of why certain things happened or didn’t happen. Can’t change any of it.
I’ve just realized that I can always, always, always, change myself.
And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t invisible after all. (P.S. I cleaned my mirror after this picture was taken!)
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