My sweet momma’s gold pendant. Her name was Charla Ann, though she went by just Ann.
I always like to have a moment of reflection on the anniversary of my mom’s death. But I’ve become more fond of the day after. I learned long ago, after much agony and pain, that while it’s important to remember July 9th, it’s just as equally important to remember July 10th. Because life moves on. We grow. We keep living. We have a path, a trajectory. Where events, both wonderful and tragic alike, lead us is fully within our control if we have enough willpower to steer the boat. It’s been 15 years and a day since my life changed forever. It’s taken a while, but I’m doing okay now. Night does, in fact, turn to day.
I can’t help but feel a bit like a failure. I’ve made the very difficult (and quite frankly, heartbreaking) decision to leave New York City for the foreseeable future.
While I may have taken a step back, I cannot discredit the endless bounds forward I’ve made in my life.
For many years I was severely depressed. Thinking back to that time in my life seems as if it was a lifetime ago – it’s not even a decade old. When I look at the person I am now and think back on who I used to be, it’s hard not to be proud of all that I have overcome and accomplished. Of course, I would be very remiss of me to not at least attempt to pay homage to the the people who helped me get to where I am in this moment. As I sit here and write this, faces flash before me in rapid succession. It’s impossible for me to single out just one person or event that helped shape my life into what it is today. I am hopeful, though, that the people who have helped me, sat with me, cried with me, carried me … understand just how thankful and indebted I am to you.
If you know me well enough, and even if you don’t, you probably know that I have adopted several mantras over the years each worthy of their own essay:
Always have a plane ticket in your back pocket.
Festina Lente (make haste, slowly).
Ignore the rearview.
I’ve recently adopted a new one:
burn the boats.
After sailing in open waters, you reach land. You have two options: push back out to sea and hope for more land. Or get out and start walking.
If you choose the latter option, burn the boats as a motivation to make the most of what is found, destroying the option to return from where you came. Make a commitment to forward momentum.
I feel like I’ve been treading water for the past four months. I’ve been in some sort of limbo with no clear direction on the horizon. While I do not expect the vagueness of the future to subside any time soon, what has happened is in the past. I cannot go back. And to be quite honest, there are parts of my life that I never want to return to.
Through the mists of doubt, I feel like I’ve run aground on a new unknown. I can imagine the possibilities of what might be out there, but I am uncertain. Regardless, I only have one option. I cannot go back to where I’ve been or to the person I once was. Forward movement only. One thing is for sure, growth cannot happen while sitting still.
Burn the boats and let’s keep going.