Lost and Found

It happens to the best of us.  We move around in our lives, minding our own business, thinking that we are taking the least destructive path for everyone involved; and suddenly it happens, you take a moment to look up and realise you are lost.  Somewhere along the way, you veered off course, and now you have no idea where the hell you are, or how you got there, and god forbid you think about going back.  Don’t ever try to go “back”.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been lost.  Heck, I’m lost now.  Maybe I always will be.  Maybe all this time I wanted to be Wendy, and I’m really a lost boy.  Either way, I’m still waiting on Peter to arrive to show me the way.

I recently had a flip.  I lost some things, found some others.  Maybe that’s what is supposed to happen.  Maybe you need to break a little of this to gain a little of that.  Who knows for sure.

I had this moment of sheer and utter loneliness.  More terrible appointments, the worst testing yet, more stagnant information.  Get “dumped” (it really wasn’t much to begin with).  Get forgotten.  All before noon.  That’s when it hit me, I’m lonely again.  Sometimes I want it, someone to be there, someone to wake up with, have morning coffee with (just don’t speak to me), someone who is forced to go to these stupid appointments, who is forced to care about how after painful tests I’m supposed to be relieved that everything tests “normal”, but still doesn’t feel normal.  Someone who sees the messy hair, no makeup, house cleaning, PJs all day and still thinks “God, I’m so lucky to have her”.  Makes me tea and pours me a bath on a day that is just crap, and understands that sometimes it was crap for no real reason and not talking about it is just as good as talking about it.

Last night I sat across the table from a friend I have had since birth.  Literally, since birth.  I am the Godmother to her first born.  I haven’t seen or spoken to her in a decade, and because my overly mature, incredible, stubborn, 13 year old Godchild wanted to meet me, I have regained a family.

Suddenly, things look different.  Suddenly the fork in the road has a road sign and although it neither direction is where I was originally headed, it’s okay.  So I head left (I tend to veer left).  I want to rebuild relationships, I want to be there for a kid who stole a huge chunk of my heart the moment she was born.  I get two more amazing kids to be the crazy aunt to, and I am so incredibly lucky.

This is what I know.  Sometimes as adults we say things that we feel like we can’t come back from.  As kids we don’t do this, our ego doesn’t get in the way, one persons hurt is never more important than the others.  But as adults it happens, all the time.  I am telling you you can.  You can go back.  You can apologize, make amends, fess up to being an asshole, not being able to see past the end of your own nose, and move on.

No fight is one persons fault.  We both said things we didn’t really mean.  We both could have called, could have written, could have contacted the other person.  We were both too stubborn and egotistical and hurt and afraid to make that move.  We were both stupid.

You can’t take the words back, you can’t get back the time.  You can’t go back to how it was.  But you don’t want to.  How it was was obviously not as strong as you originally thought.  A scar has formed, the path is bumpy, there is a mark that will be remembered.  But scar tissue is stronger than the rest of your skin, and bonds that are able to be formed over it are harder to break a second time.