Don’t Let Life Suck The Life Out of You
I’m sitting alone at home listening to the song that was playing when me and JB first found out about our little nugget. (In case you haven’t read our previous post, we lost our baby at 11 weeks). I thought I’d be a mess the next time I’d hear this song but I’m not. (It’s actually on repeat right now.) I guess the reason why I’m not is because all I remember from this song is the wide spectrum of emotions I felt when we found out. I remember slow-dancing with my husband and the tears rolling down my face. I remember being so happy and feeling like my heart was going to burst with fullness. That was a good day. And when I hear this song, it takes me back to that exact day — in the arms of the one I love the most, celebrating the product of our love.
Now I know, I sound in denial of my miscarriage. I’m happy. I’m laughing. I’m enjoying the prescribed “bed rest” with my husband like nothing happened. What is wrong with me? Right? I mean, I’ve seen the message boards. It’s filled with women who miscarried and are absolutely crushed by it — unable to feel anything but fear, dread, and bitterness towards pregnancy, sex, their husbands, and even themselves. So why am I okay?
Maybe it’s because I completely lost it before I was fully okay.
It wasn’t just the miscarriage. It was life in general. It’s been hard for us the past several months and losing the baby on top of it all was like going deeper into a pit whose bottom I thought I already scratched. So I let it all out in our tiny studio with my husband sitting right next to me. I cried, complained, and even questioned the fairness of it all. (Cue in the usual narrative — “But we’re good people”) I poured it all out, not missing any word or emotion, until I was bone dry. And then, I was okay.
I was/am okay not only because I allowed myself to feel all these emotions but also because I wanted to be okay. When I was crying and being all melodramatic about how much I hated our life, at the back of my head, I knew I really didn’t. In between sobs and bitter words, I would remember how good our life was (and is). We traveled the world (or at least parts of it), we live in our own home (with our tiny kitchen), we laugh (sometimes at inappropriate moments), and we have seemingly endless love for each other (more than I could ever hope to have with anyone else). I remember seeing my husband sitting there with me, not trying to console me, but just being there for me. I saw our life, the life we have together, and at the moment, I knew I could never really hate life. How could I when it’s a life we purposely sought out and live?
We’ve seen hard times, we’ve shared the bitterest of tears, and we’ve lost countless times in life. But, despite all of these, I can’t seem to shake off the fact that our life is still good. It’s definitely not perfect and most certainly not easy but it’s good. In fact, it’s more than good, it’s great. At least from my perspective.
It’s been said that the eyes are the windows to our soul. But, what if they’re not? What if instead of revealing our soul, our eyes actually shape our soul?
I’ve learned that what you feed your eyes determine how you’ll live your life. It’s all about perspective and how you see matters. I remember watching this short clip of Bruno Mars talking about the two years their family spent in a house that didn’t have its own toilet (and electricity!). Instead of remembering these years at hard times, he remembered these times fondly. He didn’t even care about what they lacked.
We had it all. We had each other and it never felt like it was the end of the world. — Bruno Mars
A lot would say that his fondness of these years may be because he was a child and didn’t have the pressures that his parents had. Maybe they’re right. Maybe his parents remember those times differently — moments they would rather forget. But even if that’s the case, there’s still something to learn here. Maybe it’s not about life being perfect that makes life great, but rather, it’s about how we see life that makes it great. A lot of us wait for the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect everything before we can love our lives. But, what if our lives never reach that state of perfection? What if something always goes wrong? Then, we’ll be doomed to hate our lives every single day. I don’t know about you but I know that’s no way to live.
I guess that’s why we’re okay after everything that’s happened. We’ve come to a point where we’re tired of living in the things that go wrong in our lives. We’re tired of living life bitterly only because our life isn’t exactly the way we pictured it. We’re tired. Period. And it’s good that we reached this level of exhaustion because it taught us a lesson on living — there will always be good and bad coexisting in our lives and whichever one of these we choose to focus on, shapes us into who we are. For us, we’d rather focus on the good. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t deny that I miscarried but I don’t let that tragedy become the lens by which I see the rest of my life with. Instead, I choose to see life through the lens of gratitude and hope. There are so many good things in our life that if taken forgranted would wilter and die. So I choose to fix my eyes on the good and hope that one day, despite of all the horrors of life, I’d get to say that I lived a life I loved. That on my dying day, I’d die full and empty at the same time — full of life and empty of all I have to give.
I can’t do that with dark tinted glasses.
P.S. If you see us in person, please know that we’re okay. We love your concern but we’re okay. No need to hug us and look at us with sad eyes. :)