When I was little – I apparently did not cry often. After one particularly hard day at school with a lot of homework I remember my mom telling me that it was okay to cry. She laughs now but she literally opened a flood gate that night. I remember it very clearly, more so than most of my memories at that age. It was okay to cry. Who knew.
I don’t cry often. Generally crying means I’ve been pushed past an angry breaking point. I don’t cry when I’m sad but stress is definitely my biggest trigger.
The past 9 weeks have been a roller coaster. Lots of questions, lots of digging, lots of not so pleasant answers. Lots of driving, late nights and early mornings. Throw in some divine intervention, a little luck, and you have my life in a nice package.
I’ve been in a battle (both literally and figuratively.) I considered really unfeasible options at one point. I’ve been at the end of my rope more times than I can count. I’ve wanted to beat my head on my desk. Mess. Mess. Mess. I’ve wanted to throw the towel in on more than one occasion.
And it all melted away today after a very tense, pacing the floor afternoon.
I’ve believed in miracles since I was 11 years old and nearly died. As much as I don’t like to acknowledge that part of my life – I made it through it for a reason. And today someone else made it through for a reason. And I can only imagine that it is a great reason. I’m so proud to have had a tiny part in that.
The phone rang and I answered with my heart in my throat. And the news was good. I kept it together until I hung up and I literally collapsed in the floor sobbing. The type of sobbing that made me thankful what little mascara I had on was gone by that point. And it was amazing.
All of the scary, the stressful, the second guessing washed away. Someone’s broken heart being mended managed to restore my own.
The next few days will be a test. And the next few weeks after will show me what I’m made of. And I’m ready for it.