It's Not Always Okay All the Time....but it Will be!

One weekend, five years ago, tragedy struck. In the Spring time, when the earth was blooming, and I had just started to enjoy the warmer weather, I got devastating news. I had relocated into a two bedroom apartment for my son and I, after living with my Mom for nearly a year. The time frame was post divorce of course and things were not easy. I had just gone through a lengthy court battle with my mistake (also known as my ex-husband) and redone custody. All of my financial and emotional resources were maxed out. I was exhausted, drained, and pretty much hopeless. Finally, I had found employment that was a 9-6, Monday through Friday schedule and I didn't feel like I was deprived of spending time with my son who was 3 at the time. I didn't have a lot of money, really nothing in savings, but I had done enough, worked hard enough, and saved enough that I had barely enough for a deposit and first month's rent on my new dwelling. It wasn't a dream apartment, it was rather small, and the neighbors freaked me out a bit. Never the less I was glad to have my own little corner of the world and a place to call home.

I moved in, hung up my pictures, put the dishes away and thought, at last I have a place to call my own. Things had been somewhat rocky with my employer. I had been late several times, had to take excessive time off because of the court battle and, generally didn't particularly enjoy my job. I was in the "fake it to make it," period of my life. Slapping a fake smile on my face every morning, and heels that matched my business casual wardrobe. I was expected to go above and beyond, the extra mile, put our customers first, read business books, and find time to volunteer as part of my job requirements. All of this for $9.25 per hour. After taxes, daycare, food, etc; I wasn't left with much. I didn't get along well with my co-workers whom most of were either single, or married, all of whom were close to my age, and none to relate too in this single parent world. Because this was a call center, I was on the phone for 8 hours a day talking to disgruntled clients who were not afraid to use you as their emotional dumping ground. You were their punching bag, because you had the power to make it all okay, or so they thought. I had to sell financial products to these people. Try to pre-qualify them for mortgages, car loans, etc; Because I am naturally friendly and happy-go-lucky I thought this would be the job for me. Of course I was wrong. The people I tried to help and were friendly too, it turns out tried to flirt with me. The disgruntled customers I wasn't soothing enough too. I was working at a dead end job trying to promote financial well being for these clients while living with my own mother and sharing a bed with my toddler, because I had no money myself. Talk about a catch 22!

One morning, I stumbled into work, after a rather hectic start with my son throwing a tantrum, not wanting to go to daycare, and me struggling to fly down the highway to make up for the lost time. It was 9:03, 3 minutes past the time I was required to log in on the time clock, and sign in to take calls. I sat at my desk, put my head set on and tried to push all of the doubt and anxiety out of my mind. I wanted desperately to rewrite this chapter of my life. To be a decent employee, a super mom, a good friend, daughter, and person. And than my manager, a man not elder than me by much, asked to speak to me. I went to his corner office and than we walked down the hallway to a meeting room. My stomach was churning, now what? I sat in a chair, at the conference table and he began with "Jenn B, we just don't feel this is the job for you..." My mind was reeling as he described their disappointment in my work performance, and the chaos of my life affecting this performance. I knew all of my 'but everything is wrong in my life' excuses were futile. I simply hung my head, and let the tears roll down my cheeks. I was defeated, I was ruined and I didn't know where to go from there. The manager asked me if I would like to resign or they could terminate my employment. I wrote my letter for resignation there, free-hand. I was so hysterical by this time that my manager had to return to my desk for me, to pack up my things in a box and escort me from the building. The words of encouragement to his hyperventilating now former employee was: "This is not the end."

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I remember returning home, bawling my eyes out for a good hour, talking and yelling to my mother about the injustice of it all. I had my apartment, my son was at daycare and where the hell was next months rent coming from? I changed into cut offs and a t shirt, wiped the mascara from my face and went to pick up my son. I explained to the daycare provider that I no longer needed her services, at least for the time being until I found other employment. I remember returning to my apartment in a daze. Going through the motions of making dinner and putting my son to bed, than sitting there in the quiet, thinking to myself, now what?

In the morning I woke and went about my day doing all the things I would have done regularly on my day off. I went to pick up a suit jacket from the dry cleaner and missed a call from my brother. I returned the call and immediately he answered and asked: "Where are you?" in a panicked tone. I knew something was wrong so I started to inquire, "What's wrong?" He said "You need to get home right now." Again, I asked what was so upsetting and he just said: "Come home." I didn't ask any more questions, I put my dry cleaning in the back of the car and drove to my parents home. I came in the front door, my mother was in her bath robe and everyone was crying. All my siblings, including my mom, and my brother's girlfriend were hysterical. My Mom especially. I thought, does my mother have cancer? Does she not have long to live? And than my mom asked me to sit down. My young 3 year old son, sat on my lap. My mom began to explain, "The state police just left, there was an accident and Dad died." I jumped up and yelled at her, told her it was a joke, a misunderstanding, a mistake. I was outraged! I was shocked! I was in pain. I doubled over in disbelief and sunk back down onto the couch reeling with emotion. Tears pooled in my eyes, I sobbed harder than I ever had before.

I had no idea how to deal with all this devastation at once. The next few days were a blur of family calling, friends, meals delivered, flowers sent and funeral planning. I remember somehow mustering the strength as the eldest child to help my Mom pick out a casket, to make funeral arrangements to sort through the details. I made phone calls, I cleaned her house, I organized, made room for family coming to stay, took care of my son, and each night returned home, exhausted. Most nights I am sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I had been dating a man, 10 years older than me at the time. He was a family friend and acquaintance turned boyfriend, and a consoling source at the time. He would come over and hold me while I cried, rub my back until I fell asleep, whispering everything would be alright. We both knew it was not alright and wouldn't be for a very long time. After the funeral, after the burial, after all the moments that followed, I sat alone with this man in his car, outside my apartment. He began by speaking calmly telling me of his feelings for me, of knowing that I was an amazing woman, how he was sorry I had been through so much difficulty. He also started to break up with me. He told me he was not who I wanted or needed, that there were major road blocks in the way. I wasn't even thirty and wanted more children, children he did not have the capability to provide. We were different religions, and although we are both spiritual people, we would still be a house divided had we pursued our relationship. He told me the ever cliche' "It will be okay." I yelled back at him after many tears and much exasperation and said "I want better than fucking okay! I want more than mediocrity! I want a fan-fucking-tastic life! It's not all about you! My dad just died, I have no job, and now you're turning your back on me too?! Chalk that one up to good timing!" Exasperated, exhausted and upset I returned home to my apartment and collapsed on the floor. What to do with the pieces of the puzzle of my life? Now what? So many questions plagued me, so many answers eluded me. So much pain and anguish remained. I was in emotional turmoil. I had seemingly navigated through an emotional mind field, losing limbs at every turn. My life was a mess.

A few days later, the path became clear to me, as to what I needed to do. I called my brother and asked a friend if they would help me move my belongings, once again into storage. I wrote my land lord a letter explaining why I needed to break my lease. I moved back in with my Mom because we needed each other. As hard as that was for me to admit that I needed my mother once again, the fact still remained, inescapable as ever. I simply could not do it on my own. That summer was beautiful. I remember it being the worst best summer of my life. I took my son and went camping a lot, went fishing, started to teach him all of the things my dad had taught me. I snuggled close to him every single night. I sang to him, played with him, read stories, went on long walks, and listened to myself. My heart was pounding out a rhythm that I understood. I began to understand that my life was mine to live, and happiness was a choice. I could stay down, blaming gravity or I could rise above.

We all deserve a reservation at the pity potty outhouse from time to time. We need to go there in the quiet, to listen, to mourn. The weight of our lives is a heavy burden on our shoulders. Because it's an outhouse, it never smells pleasant and I didn't want to stay there for long. That doesn't mean I don't still pay it a visit from time to time. I need a place to relieve my emotional turmoil, to excrete it out of my soul, to leave the shit behind. When the Summer ended, I had rekindled old friendships and made time for the things in my life that mattered, I made time to experience joy. Sometimes that's all life requires of you, to make room to fill up your heart and your mind with other thoughts, other emotions, than sadness, grief, and pain.

I eventually moved on to find employment, found an affordable, though small, apartment, and began to pick up the pieces once again. Years later, five of them in fact, I have had to relearn this same lesson. I have had to excrete at the pity potty, I have had to try to figure out the semblance of a life .It is not always easy, this game of Tetris. The puzzle is constantly changing, and sometimes you lose the game. For me, it's not about winning the game every time, but still being a participating player, that makes all the difference. To still have a fighting chance. I have found that there is a lot of fight left in me. Though it's never easy and often things fall in my path that I have to remove or climb over, it is my path to choose. I get to decide what I do with what falls in the way, what will stay and what will go. I have found that it is 'okay,' and that even though we may not understand all the reasons, there are always solutions. It is okay. Life is okay, It will be, it can be, it is, okay. Some days I strive for more than okay, and sometimes mediocrity is the best I can hope for. Still, there are other times when I flourish, I find ways to shine, I reach out, I reach up, and I am back in the sunlight again.

We don't have to do it alone. None of us ever needs to feel alone. The lie that we tell ourselves is that we are alone. Other people are hurting too, and they have made it through the emotional land mine. We all wear our scars and are plagued by our pasts, but we don't have to let the past become our future. If you take the time to talk to people, anytime anywhere, they will tell you their story. If you listen closely and read between the lines, it may just match your own. They may have learned something and want to pass on that knowledge to you, they may need a safe place to tell their story, and maybe you can find healing together. The truth of the matter for me is that, it isn't okay all the time, and it doesn't have to be. None of us can truly heal the hurt of another human heart. We can listen, we can hold hands, we can cry together. In a solemn moment when the path way doesn't seem to bright, and the obstacle course is not clear, we can speak the truth to one another. We can declare that it will, in fact, be okay.