Lilies

Just over eleven years ago, while at the side of her hospital bed, my Babci asked me to promise to do one thing:  be happy in my life.  Two days later, that strong, awesome, inspiring role model passed away from pancreatic cancer.  Within two weeks, I had her favourite flower: a Casablanca Lily, tattooed on the inside of my wrist of a constant reminder of a promise made to a much loved, dying woman.  A day doesn't go by that she doesn't cross my mind and I remember that promise.  When you're barely out of your teenage years, you don't think anything is too difficult.  There is always a solution to whatever problem life throws at you.  And at that age, we believe we are capable of anything.  Yet, eleven years later, now in my 30s, I find that not everything is as easy as it seems.  One promise:  be happy in my life.  It doesn't sound too difficult a promise to keep.  At least in theory.  

        Truth is, I'm still figuring out how.  Nice clothes, newer car, a staggering collection of shoes and purses, and reinventing myself and look every few months barely scratches the surface.  Sure, they're great.  For a little while, I find myself not just happy, but fortunate to be able to go buy silly little superficial items.  But physical, tangible things are not keys to lasting happiness.  So then what is? For starters, I have a very small, close-knit group of friends that are the most amazing people I have ever met and feel truly blessed to have in my life.  And on occasion, one from years ago pops back in just to say hello.  I have never lost my passion for reading, art (even though I have been unable to draw anything in several years), music, and knowledge.  I made the choice to return to school.  It has added to and complemented my two strongest assets:  my intelligence and my desire to help people.  Even though my health is that constant questionmark on this journey, if I am able to help only one person, the work, discipline, research, and tenacity have more than paid off any college debt.  But I'm not there yet. 

      Over the last year, I have grown and changed more than any other time of my life.  I've stopped caring about what someone thinks of me, especially when they don't even know me.  I've survived another abusive relationship and faced a stone cold fact:  this was my pattern.  Finding a date after high school was never difficult, but it is one thing to know something, quite a different thing to hear someone say it to you and understand it.  Never again will I allow myself to be in another abusive relationship, whether it be friend, family, or partner.  Everyone deserves better than that.  So, when I started talking to someone several months ago, my mind said no.  I was still trying to escape one nightmare and was not about to step into the possibility of another one.  I built solid wall after solid wall after solid wall up to keep others out, just so that I did not get hurt.   On our first date, those walls simply collapsed.  I fell.  And hard.  And I have no problems admitting how much it scares me.  Unfortunately, he seems to be "that guy."  You know the one with all these amazing things to say, girlfriends all over the country receiving sweet messages and gifts.  That guy.  Just as I began to find my footing, have a general plan, and leave myself wide open and vulnerable to this amazing person, I find out he's one of "them."  After reading a very upsetting email last night and sharing it with a friend, s/he confirmed what I was afraid of:  it sounded like a suicide note.  A final good bye.  So after having no sleep, busting my hand punching a steel door in frustration, what can only be described of as heart and gut wrenching tears, vomiting for what seemed eternity, I called in a favor to make sure he was okay.  I still love him, but even if I didn't, I was not about to take the chance that it was over forever before it ever truly began.  Now I'm back at square one wondering what is it about me that if "whichever man I choose will be the luckiest and happiest man ever" that they seek out something better?  

    So, as I stare down at all the cuts, bruises, and scars I try to find he answer.  And how to be happy in my life.  After all, I have a promise to keep.  And have never broken one before, and never will.  The Casablanca will never let me forget, either.