Last Thursday, I spoke to my class about being good listeners and the connection listening has to delivering speeches. As I was illustrating the importance of listening and our need to be heard, I shared with them the role blogging plays in my life. While blogging certainly isn't the same as one-on-one contact with people, in my most difficult times I have often found it easier to write about how I feel than to talk about it. I spoke to my students about how, for me, it fulfills part of my need to be heard.
Then I wrote here on Friday. After all the months of essentially keeping my stress to myself, I wrote it out. I found a place for it and put it here. Even though I understand this Internet world pretty well and so therefore don't worry if particular posts get too many comments, Friday's post was different. I was vulnerable. I was broken. I was a puddle of tears. I wrote, and then I waited, hoping that someone was listening.
You listened. Your comments and emails (thank you, Katy!) hugged me, restored me, encouraged me, got me through a weekend in which my nerves felt raw and exposed. What ccap wrote summed up best what your words did for me: "...Wanted you to know that I was hear." I don't know if she was intentional in that spelling, but it was intentional to me. There is a big difference between being here and being hear, and for me it was all the difference in the world. I can't thank each of you enough for...everything.
On Friday I did a lot of sitting, because I wasn't strong enough to stand. I did a lot of crying, because I was broken with stress. I did a lot of praying, because it was the only thing that would sustain me. And I blinked, slowly. Waiting to wake up.
Jason had already come to terms with the house fiasco, but it was still very near to me. I actually said to him, "It would have been better to have never dreamed at all than to have dreamed and lost."
I don't really believe that, but I did on Friday.
I spent the weekend making pumpkin French toast, watching my brother Jake speed through Willamette's Cross Country Meet (can I brag for a moment that he ran 8K in 24:15), organizing my files of magazine tear sheets, visiting with my parents, going to church, making meatloaf, inviting friends over for brownies and ice cream, watching the leaves change color, administering cough medicine to Sydney, and listening to the rain pour down.
I breathed in. I turned the calendar to October.
And Monday morning I woke up.
Moving from September to October was more than moving from one month to another, more than moving from Sunday to Monday. It was moving from one place in my life to another. I breathed in. I held my breath, and exhaled. Feels good.
The leaves may be falling, but I'm standing. Moving forward.