I Wish You Knew…

“This being human is a guest house, every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. ”— Rumi

I don’t where to start. So many thoughts and no words to articulate them. So many unexpected visitors in this mind of mine, so where do I begin? The first one that comes to mind is anger. This catches me by surprise. Why anger?

I’m angry because it feels almost as if God is laughing at me. All these thoughts that are occupying space in my mind, how ironic that there’s no one who could understand them like you. It is insane how much I feel like I am walking down your same road. You are, perhaps, the only one that could grasp why I feel the way I do about motherhood, family, relationships, life choices, and everything in between. I’m angry because I can’t talk to you about how we are the same person. I’m angry because I can’t ask you to walk me through how you battled the demons I find myself fighting. I’m angry at the God everyone talks about for having me walk this road only to be left to figure things out on my own.

The next visitor that comes to mind is sadness. I’m sure at some point you thought “it is not supposed to be this way.” I try to imagine what it would be like to be you at my age and I can feel my heart breaking. To begin to process what it must have been like to know that life was over before it even began for you is too much to wrap my head around. I feel sadness not just for you but for myself. I feel like I, too, got dealt a bad hand. As much as it feels selfish to even think about me, in the grand scheme of things, I feel like I got fucked along with you. I try imagine what it would have been like if things were different but the pain that brings me is more than I can currently handle.

I think about the choices I make today and I can tie so many of them back to you, but I can’t blame you. The consequences of my actions are mine to experience, I mean, isn’t that how it works? I welcome my next guest, fear. I live in fear that I will make the same mistakes you made. I can see myself falling into your same patterns. Everything I resent about you I can feel myself becoming. At times I feel powerless to stop it, almost as if I am a spectator in my own life. I have seen this movie before and it frightens me to think I won’t be able to rewrite the script.

In the midst of all the chaos I find myself trapped in, I search for an old friend, love. There is so much noise that it’s hard to hear, is it even here? Surely it must be, but I can’t seem to find the quiet space in which it resides. The more I search for it the louder the noise becomes. I find myself calling out to a God I’m not sure is listening, but is it up to him to press the mute button? I feel like he is waiting on me to figure it out, almost like when you let your child pick themselves back up after they fall off a bike, only it’s skydiving and I have a broken parachute.

Rumi goes on to say:

“Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house of it’s furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” — Rumi

So I sit here with them all in this empty house wondering when they will leave. How much longer will they be here making all this noise? I give each guest my attention, knowing that not acknowledging their presence carries a greater consequence. This other thing about being grateful for them, I’m not there yet. Gratitude used to be a guest here, but one day I woke up and it was gone. Perhaps there wasn’t enough room and it decided to go. For all I know this house is so messy and crowded that I can’t find it amongst the disarray. I know I have much to be grateful for, so where did you go?

I can’t decide if I’m speaking to you or myself. If I told you, would you listen? Would you know what I am saying?

I wish I knew.