Appreciation

For the first time in a long time I see my future through hopeful eyes. I feel there might be something good coming, some relief. Though I have no doubt I will have to sweat for it, this past year in Hot Springs has taught me sweat makes it sweeter. After I moved a away from my family and friends to live with the man I loved, part of me quickly grew up to face the various responsibilities of living out from under my mother's roof. But no matter the level of my responsibility and faith in the future of my life with Andrew, life still threw us off track in some immense ways. Most of which are still too painful to go into right now, mostly because of how poorly timed the events were and how detrimental they were to my stability. With five car accidents, four months of unemployment, and roaches 24/7, I found myself fighting constantly just to keep my head above water financially, mentally, and physically, all the while trying to be as optimistic of the outcome as I could. It was much like learning to ride a bike on the bumpy, scary, gravelly road of adulthood, praying you'll begin to find your balance and quit toppling over and scraping yourself up just to do it all over again. When finances began leveling out, and we were able to quit starving ourselves to make rent money, the stress of experiencing a disappointing six months of fighting to stay afloat instead of the anticipated months of comfort and food took its toll on me.

As though collapsing into a dream state, lost memories reformed and began playing as though on a projector reel with no end. I found myself re-experiencing events from my childhood almost as vividly as they'd been when they were happening. I felt the same terror that haunted me as a girl, the fear of being alone, the feeling of being completely unsafe. It tormented and broke me daily. I spent much of my time curled in a ball screaming and sobbing the same way I had as a child, losing many hours and days to the painful regression. Because of it, our move to the small, beautiful cottage on the mountainside and the months that followed are a painful blur. And now as I begin to gather my books and skirts and candles into boxes to go back home, I find myself wishing that I'd been able to feel the reality of my situation, how blessed I have been having the place, the privacy, the mountains and the chance to see Andrew daily. I am sad to find that much of my year of living as an adult on my own has been spent curled up like a scared little girl.

Especially now that my time here is ending, I see that I was never as unsafe or alone as my mind made it seem. I am so grateful for Andrew, in ways that I may never be able to fully express. He laid with me and held me for hours, as I was hit with memories and images that brought all my wounds to a boil. He held my hand every step of the way, he called my name when I was lost in a trance of my own subconscious until I came back to him, no matter how long it took. In many ways, he saved my life. I never would have been able to survive those months without him, I'm positive I would have wound up committed, or drained of blood. He's shown me love, true love; that I don't have to fight my battles by myself, that I am not alone in this world, like I have often felt. He has given me something I can trust in.

And now I am going home a new person, and I am overwhelmed with anticipation. The Gervasios, the family of one of my very closest friends are letting us rent out their basement apartment for an extremely reasonable price that will finally let us get our heads above water. And I guess I can't just pin the "Best Friend's Family" title onto them, as they are more like family to me than anything I've experienced before. They've welcomed me into their home countless times, with smiles and embraces and lots of food, and they taught me what a family really is. Their offer to let us move in with them is a favor I will not soon forget, and it brings me to tears as I write this. Because I have spent so much of my time here feeling helpless, scared, and unsafe, the relief I feel that I will be able to go somewhere with people that love and accept me is almost too much to bear. I am thankful beyond words. They are once again providing me with a safe haven, someplace where I feel true comfort, and am able to rest and feel safe, and feel like I belong; not because I did anything to deserve it, but because they care. I don't know if they are aware of how much I love them, or how much they are saving me, but I hope one day they will see that they have had much to do with my faith in love, and that they've changed my life in some very lasting ways. To feel as though I have a home to come back to is a gift I cannot take for granted, because it makes me feel that things will be okay, which helps me to chase away the dark thoughts that torment me. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I'm afraid I'll have to write a different post about how happy I am to have their daughter Lori in my life, and what a blessing she's been to me. I'll save that sentimental ramble for a later day. I just had to talk about how thankful I am for the people and opportunities that I've been given, and how good it feels to feel the lightness of optimism and anticipation for the future for the first time in a long time.

Until next time
Abbi