Writing a book about your life is obviously intensely personal. But I think it can be a traumatic feeling for your family too, especially your spouse if you’re married. Sometimes I’m feeling so tender and vulnerable after I get the words out in the morning. My rawness doesn’t translate well to a happy morning chat over coffee. Sometimes. Most of the time it’s a welcome relief to come back to reality and solve the world’s problems with the love of my life.
But sometimes when I bring the coffee in for us and sit on the bed ready to greet the morning light with my husband, I am wearing an invisible stole of old hurt around my shoulders. It’s like one of those old fox stoles with the tail and the head with teeth. And it comes alive and bites me on the earlobe and I cry and maybe things don’t go so well that morning.
One of the things about my life that I am thankful for is that we have time together, my husband and me. We both work mostly from home and set our own schedules, so we have the luxury of time to smooth out the speed bumps we run into from time to time in our communication. It would be harder if one or both of us had to leave every day in the morning. But even when that was the case, we were still able to spend time together each morning. We get up early to drink coffee, talk, ponder, laugh, cry, pray, and work things out and get to know each other better. Even after 24 years it is still possible to get to know someone better.
We have our difficult mornings and we drive each other crazy sometimes. But we work it out. We push each other and encourage each other and get pissed off and just love each other through it all. And then through the rest of the day I know that I have a supporter and cheerleader who will always be there to remind me I am loved. I don’t know why I got this gift; I know a lot of people don’t. A lot of people don’t get dropped off on the corner and abandoned by their mother when they’re 16 either. A vast majority of people are not born in America, where freedom has granted us amazing prosperity and the luxury of navel gazing.
The events of our life seem random and unfair and cruel and incredibly generous sometimes. Every human life from the beginning of history holds a story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. With a goal, a struggle, maybe many struggles, a climax and resolution, a hero (that’s you) and an enemy to fight against and overcome. Sometimes the enemy is external, sometimes my enemy is me. Life is a story and a journey; it’s a saga we are walking through each day, and while sometimes we don’t get to choose the next plot twist, we always get to choose our response to the plot twists. We can be our own worst enemy, or we can overcome and be the hero. It’s a choice.