Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Being Thankful for Brick Walls

Yesterday broke my heart. I cried. I felt pathetic incredibly sorry for myself. I was supremely disappointed, and it really hurt. It's funny how that works--when something devastating happens to us, it washes everything else that's missing in our lives over us in waves. It's stifling. I actually thought it was part of an elaborate scheme to prevent me from attaining anything in this world I want for myself. That's why I cried. Naturally, it seemed completely logical thinking at the time.

However, I'm standing in a different place today. My disappointment wasn't about me--I had no control over the situation and truly, there was nothing more I could have done. Really, the only way to find logic and hope in our disappointment is to realize that what we wanted wasn't ours in the first place. Every cliche saying that exists about disappointment, failure and heartache really is true: it wasn't meant to be, something better is out there, you don't know until you try, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, so on and so forth. It's all true; every trite saying we know by heart exists because someone else came before us, failed and realized a lesson existed in the midst of their own heartache.

My disappointment, in the grand scheme of my life, is not a big deal. It hurts, but I'm still standing. I don't have the answers and often, I don't understand the logic. But, it's life and pain unfortunately is just part of the deal. For me, disappointment in my life often arrives in such a way that it pulls up my greatest disappointment: my inability to have children. It's the one thing that can't be explained away with a trite saying; it lacks everything I've ever believed about logic, irony and destiny. And all too often, it's waiting to bob up to the surface and smack me across the face.

But that's the beauty about being in a miserable place: it's only temporary. No matter how long you're there or how long you have to wait to move on, it won't last forever. We feel like we're wallowing endlessly in a sea of our own misery sometimes, and it's hard to see the light in what we're waiting and fighting for--because it feels so far away. What are we fighting for? Adoption.

Truthfully,  I realize it would be easier to just forget it, walk away and really work on moving on instead. The allure of not having to wait, or pay large sums of money or go through the paperwork, classes and emotional agony of the adoption process can be tempting--because it would be easier. I sometimes wonder if that's why we have to wait for so long for what we want; perhaps the process is meant to keep out the other people. You know, the ones who have allowed the brick wall to stop them in their tracks. How many people aren't willing to jump through flaming hoops made of barbed wire for their dream?

I don't know what the future brings, but I know this: I cried yesterday because the brick wall was all too real for me. It broke me because I forgot everything else I've learned along the way. Whenever something breaks me, I let the emotions flow and spend some time feeling sorry for myself in the most pathetic way possible with ice cream and red wine. Then, I move on. It's the only way to understand that the world is full of more opportunity, more beauty and something more amazing than I could have possibly imagined. My disappointment is temporary because I don't let it stick around for very long.

Life is a dance. A give and take. An ebb and flow of good and bad. Sometimes, in the depth of our worst moments we forget our good fortune and it's easy to get lost along the way. The brick walls pile up, and we grow tired of fighting so hard for the things we want. But it's worth fighting for---adopting a child, dusting my behind off after I fall on my face and scraping my way over every brick wall that comes my way. It's all worth the pain.

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