pretending stops. reality begins.

If someone were to come up to me and say, you have to do this year again, I'd side-eye them, back away as slowly and carefully as possible, and then take off sprinting in the opposite direction.

I wouldn't do it.  No way.

And this is of note because there are like whole entire years of my life that I can't even remember--that's how bad they were.

It's also of note because there are, in fact, specific moments from this last year, that I'd absolutely do differently, if given the opportunity--and I'd like to. I'd give a yes instead of a no. More easily extended invitations. Cherished time and the close ones. Stay a little longer. Refuse to go unnnoticed. Use my time more efficiently.

But I think, that as awful as this year has been (because I kind of feel like a lightning rod of unfortunate events), it had to happen just as it did.

I had to land in the companionships from hell. I had to have seizures. Had to leave Mesa unexpectedly, which made me fall into the "missionaries who return home early" category. Had to have test after test and hospital stays and various drugs to get a non-conclusive result. Had to have that knock-down-drag-out-fight. Had to stand there with a glass of water in my hand and very rationally talk myself out of throwing it. Had to feel utterly alone. Had to say the terrible words and feel what it was to say them--to be the person who said them, and who is okay with saying them. Had to witness as very many people sidestepped the truth because it was uncomfortable. Had to see cruelty up close.

This year has been steep learning curve after steep learning curve after steep learning curve.

But it had to happen just as it did.

So I could learn to trust myself more, protect myself more, defend myself more.
So I could speak what was true with a bit less fear and a bit more volume.
So I could  understand that healing and hope are real and available.

I may not understand the will of God, or the logic of the universe, but I've given over to it. Or in to it.

Because in the face of very many bad things, there are many very good things too. And the good things are sweeter. And clearer.

And small (or very large) kindnesses have made a difference.
Have made all the difference.

I moved back to Mesa three months ago.  In with a family that has been kind and welcoming and hold true to the same values. Namely, honesty, faith, and the pursuit of pleasure. I've gone to doctors for my anxiety. And I've begun regularly seeing a counselor to help me wade through the murky water on my pursuit of pleasure.

In my last session, in expelling a particular sort of insecurity-based-heartache--and the particular moment of breaking--I came to the realization that the pretending is over, now. 

Such brutal words, acknowledged with much care and understanding, which makes them--I think--breathtaking.

The pretending is over now. The pretending is over now.

This year has been brutal. Sometimes miserable. Awful. But the pretending is over, now. And that has been the point.

Because the thing about breaking, being broken, breaking open--well, it's not such a bad thing. It feels like hell (even when you're leaning on God it feels like hell), but it reveals us. Distills us. Makes us more ourselves. But in order for that to happen, we have to turn and face ourselves, experience the full weight of who we are, and that--well that, is just not an easy thing to do.

But that's our job. We have to accept and recognize the reality that faces us. Because empathy is our human charge. But we need empathy and understanding to be grounded, and to not be grounded in the face of strong winds is incredibly dangerous and hands down ludicrous.

And so,  the pretending is over, now.

It has to be.

And I'll give thanks for that, If nothing else, I will give thanks for that.

xo.pa