So, it's January 2012.
I would be lying if I said this last year has been perfect.
There were mornings that I woke up feeling hopeless and empty. The sunlight coming in through the blinds bothered me and the cheerful radio voices on our alarm enraged me. I'd cling to my sheets as if some imaginary hands were pulling me out of bed. I slipped under my covers and hoped the day would pass, realizing it would go on regardless if I decided to get out of bed or not. These type of mornings became routine. If I got out of bed, I couldn't look in the mirror. I'd brush my hair and teeth and pull on crumpled clothes. The days always seemed to last longer and longer. My neck and back began to ache. My chest had a constant weight on it. I found myself turning off the radio. The thousands of songs on my itunes were becoming nothing but whiny. Not comforting like they used to be. My own puppy gave up trying to drop her stuffed toys at my feet. She knew I had no intention of taking my eyes off the television.
I would be lying if I said that Graydon isn't perfect.
His face so close to mine, his eyes trying to sort out the pain I was feeling. "You must feel like you're drowning, don't you?" Comforting arms wrapped around me, I nodded and sobbed into his chest until I ran out of tears. "I feel like I can't breathe."
Our summer on the Mediterranean cruise: one day we strapped on snorkel gear, climbed into a tiny boat, and dived into pristine waters surrounding Majorca. "We are diving into an underwater cave" we were told. The water, so beautiful and seemingly harmless, crashed me up against a giant rock. Again and again my hands smashed against its jagged surface, my hands punctured and bleeding. Salt water forced itself into my lungs, I clung to Graydon's shoulders and hoped no one else noticed my intense fear. "You have to let go" he said, "I'll wait for you." And he did. When I emerged from the cave he was treading water, I could see his tired eyes, red cheeks but a hopeful smile. I couldn't stop thanking him for waiting for me.
So it seemed for awhile that Gray was treading water, waiting for me to emerge. Constantly holding my hand, stroking my hair and talking me through ever thorn that was embedded in my heart. He talked me through going to the doctor. He talked me through telling my family. He talked me through my first pills, my first visit to the therapist, and my admission that I couldn't do it all on my own.
One day I noticed I was laughing again. Not the petty laughter that one offers at a simple remark but an actual sincere laugh. My chest lightened up. I danced, I sang and kissed my Graydon's cheeks. "Welcome back."
I wear coral lipstick now and paint my nails. I brush my hair and cuddle with my puppy more. Cooking has become my reprieve as well as tending to my house plants. I don't feel perfect and know that I will never come to that. Graydon inspires me every day to live. He spends hours working and even more hours taking care of me. I love him. I also love my family for taking care of me. For helping Graydon take care of me. For loving me and hugging me as if I were still a little girl. Sometimes I still need those type of hugs.
I'm looking forward to this year. Who knows what will happen? All I know is that I'm turning 24 soon and I still feel like I'm 18, twiddling my thumbs waiting for something to happen. Little did I know things have been happening all along and it wasn't until just recently that I realized that I need to play a bigger part in my own life. So here I go. I'm putting one foot, no two feet forward and making my way into the unknown.
