Blessings in disguise
Yesterday, while I was making sure everyone I talked to got a huge hole in their head, I came to think of something. Yes, I feel like I had my share of bad and horrible, but what if.. what if that’s all over now? With all the mess inside my head I forgot that I have a son that almost doesn’t cry, that eats well and that sleeps during the night. Loud music doesn’t bother him, he doesn’t mind other kids, adults – and I am sure even monsters too – holding him, giving him hugs and being in his face. I forgot that sometimes I wonder why everyone is proud of me for doing so well as a single mom – it’s not that hard, is it? Yes, I have to change every single diaper, make my own dinner, clean, wash clothes and get up during the night when he is hungry – but he doesn’t mind lying down staring at the roof when I am busy. I forgot that every single event up until now is nothing compared to the nice baby I’m given.
So maybe all the bad karma, all the horrible experiences, trips to the basement, depressions and alcohol problems was thrown my way so I can easier understand the value of good in life. How nothing good falls down in your lap if you don’t work hard to get there – and how worth working hard to get there is.
Laurence once told me it could be a blessing in disguise, being knocked up and all. I wasn’t sure about it then, but when I think about it.. The path I was going down was not leading somewhere good, and if I had hit rock bottom again I’m not sure I would have had the strength to get back up again. I know myself well by know, mostly because of all that shit I went through – and I know I was likely to run away somewhere, never coming back. At it’s worst I tried to convince myself nobody would even care, and that I could send a postcard telling everyone I was okay and happy with the life I had made for myself. I know now and I knew then that that would not have been the case, but it didn’t stop me from thinking about it a lot either way.
I still struggle with some of the memories I made for myself, and it scares me that I was able to think like I did. I’m not sure I will ever be ready to put it all out there, but I am slowly working through it. Talking to people I trust to ease it up a little bit, sharing some with you guys from time to time to make facing it easier. I don’t think it will ever be easy, and there will probably be more trips to the basement door. But maybe I will stop there next time? Maybe I’ll look at the door and think “no, not this time“. After all, and even when I didn’t believe it, it has made me stronger. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise? Sometimes I feel like little Kasper saved me, and for that – I will never let him down.