Possibility

In 2016 I shared a post on Facebook. You know how your history appears periodically on your current Facebook feed? This posting appeared on mine. I reposted. I watched the video again. I moved upstairs to my computer to do a quick design job that has been patiently waiting creation. I thought about the video. Watched again. Decided to blog and get my thoughts out of my mind and vomit them in black and white print.

The video is from aplus.com and is titled "What's Your Biggest Regret?"

"A blackboard stood in the middle of New York City asking passersby to write down their biggest regret."

I think about what I would write? Maybe I'd write that I regret getting in my own way. I wonder if I'd write that I didn't say "I love you" enough. Maybe I let anger and hurt and distrust rule my actions. Maybe I AM too emotional (I hear it all the time). 

As the short video progresses, you see the board contemplated. The question is viewed and observers begin to write on the board. I'm struck by the sadness on their faces as people begin to think about all the regrets that come with growing up. "Why didn't I...", "I wish...", "I should have...". 

Ah. Regret. Thinking about it is NOT fun at all. I flippantly say that don't regret. That my mistakes have made me who I am.

However, it is all a lie. OF COURSE I have regrets. And wishes. And possibilities not realized.

As the short movie progresses you hear people talk about fear and failing and regret and time. The common theme of the writings seems to begin with the word "Not". "Not getting...", "Not pursuing...", "Not having...".

It's hard isn't it? It's tough to rewind your life story and view it through muddied eyes. I don't want wasted time. I don't want regrets. I don't want my personal mirror looking back with the words "I wish" scrawled in red lipstick.

About 1.5 minutes into the 3.5 minute video, participants are handed an eraser. Faces light up as regrets are expunged with the swipe of a hand. The general aspect is smiling and hopeful and beautiful.

And filled with possibility.

The message:

EVERY DAY IS A CLEAN SLATE
DO THE THINGS YOU'LL REGRET NOT DOING

is viewed and the final screen is shown. A blackboard. THE BLACKBOARD. With two words written.

CLEAN SLATE

What does YOUR clean slate begin with? Only thoughts and dreams and hopes and possibilities are written on mine.

Please, Don't Take The Girl

For Christmas this year, Shelby and her friend gathered all my blog posts and put them in a book. It's so pretty! The book cover is cream linen, hardback and a simple wrap with "Just Words" jackets the outside. There is a pretty awesome dedicatory page and best of all? The book has all of my blogs and pics from 2011 - 2016. Yep. It's a beautiful treasure and I love it OH-SO-MUCH!

Christmas morning came around. Presents were opened and we were killing time until the movie at 12:45. The family was still gathered upstairs and the book was passed around as each person took a turn reading their favorite blog. I fought back tears as my loved ones read the words from my heart that had touched their own heart. Have I ever told you that I'm a lucky girl? I am, you know.

I have mentioned that I periodically read through my blogs. I find that I remember exactly how I felt while sitting down to type each one.

On January 30, 2012, I wrote a blog titled "Can I Borrow A Nail?" I talk about sharing information and knowledge and skills and lessons and successes and failures and hopes and dreams. Was I arrogantly writing? I don't think so. I usually share everything. I talk and pick at conversations to glean any information to help me and - truth be told - I'm not known to hold back on advice. It's not usually taken, but at least I feel better for sharing. After all, it's all about me, right?

EXCEPT I don't talk about the very thing that weighs on my heart right now. So I'm sharing. I have felt the need to "verbally vomit"  for a while now, so you get to hear my words. It's MY truth - as I know it. May not be truth as you know it, but I have said that I write what I know. Write, I will.

My daughter is a drug addict. Full blown, heroin shooting, pill popping, skin picking, bleary eyed drug addict. It's killing her and it's killing me. No lie.

I am so very thankful when she is picked up and put into jail. That's such a contradiction of how I should feel. I should be embarrassed, humiliated and frightened when she is put away for a bit. Instead, I am grateful beyond words. She'll remain alive and will be clean for a bit and I hope and pray and hope against all hope that this will be the time that she changes her ways.

I get such a stomach ache when the judge releases her. So far, I have been right. She doesn't stay clean. She ends up back with the same selfish human-beings that suck her dry and leave her dangling in the wind. She uses. We give her the boot, she goes back to people who do not want good for her, she lands in jail, she makes empty promises to the judge who then releases her and the cycle starts over again. And again. And yet again.

I've called the police more than once. We had her arrested. I watched her attempt suicide. I've written letters to judges. I've called government offices. I've talked and begged and pleaded and yelled and cried and hoped and fretted. I've answered the door to the police and knew without a doubt that they were there to tell me they had found her. Dead. I've investigated and studied and researched and always end up chasing my tail wondering "What the crap do I do to fix this?"

I think in the end, the "why's" don't matter. We can go on and on and on with the reasons that drove her to using the first time. However, I find the focus needing to be on quitting; on stopping the madness and the hurt and the bad decisions. How do I find the words that will light the fire of change in her very being?

Her siblings struggle with her decisions. Some don't talk about it at all. Some yell. Some cry. Some worry. Some stress. None of us forget. It's always there....waiting...to hurt and claw and gouge our hearts.

I was listening to my music the other day and "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten began playing. I sang along and when I got to the part where she sings:

"...My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me."

That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? We get better, we grow, we become and we learn for ourselves. Others may want better for us, however, the real work, the final struggle and the complete glory lies within.

So, I will pray daily that I will see Tanna win this battle. I will hold my breath in hopes that she will see herself through my eyes, the eyes of her dad and siblings and friends and family. That she will see the beauty within that is hidden below the hurt and pain and damage that came with the path she chose to wander. That there will come a day that drug use is what "used to be". That the family forgets how it feels to long for better times. That we soon hear her contagious laughter. That her warm spirit will envelope us again. That the kids can all fight and holler and yell and love without the dominating hurt.

These things I hope for. I pray for. I long for.