I am tired. Tired to the bone with all the words that are thrown against me like I’m the wall in a racquetball court and its my job to take it. My life my destiny to take society’s beatings and be fine with it.
The mental wear and tear of this life is too much at times and I want to give up. Sometimes I do.
Then the morning comes and I am out the door with Luke pounding the pavement before heading off to school or my second job. I am joyful when I see myself in the mirror. I look beautiful, professional, ready to handle life in the court again.
Walking out the door, I see the empty space where my pink bike used to reside and my heart sinks. Someone stole the worn down bike that helped me continue my physical therapy. They skipped over five or six nicer bikes in the neighborhood to take mine; making the thief seem personal.
There is a dent in my new car where in a rush I backed out and hit a red land yacht illegally parked and trash in the floor boards which I have been too tired at night to clean up. Physically, I am fine. I walk more than a mile everyday, but mentally I wonder what is the point.
My students fight my efforts to help them, parents dodge my calls and when payday comes my efforts are not enough to pay the bills. I work and work and there is nothing at the end of the day to save or stash away.
But, I get up and do it again and again. I plot and scheme to break free of an existence as a wall and find something everyday to smile about it. Like waking up in the middle of the night to find myself surrounded my beloved furry children; unable to move due to their sleeping bodies. My best friend making me watch Sex in the City and promising that after each episode it is going to get better. (It did) Or a message from an old friend asking if I was free to see him over the weekend.
It is listening to NPR and hearing an interview with Dennis Lehane about his op-ed piece in the New York Times entitled “Messing with the Wrong City“. It was a reminder that we are more than the negative things that happen to us. A reminder that there is good left in America. We are not a nation dying as Rush Limbaugh proclaimed on his show on Friday, we are a nation that is surviving and thriving.
Bostonians showed us the way as did the marathon runners who ran towards danger to help others or ran to the hospitals to give blood. They didn’t look to blame someone. They took care of the injured and waited to find out who was responsible.
As a city, they have decided not to let this event change them. Not to let someone else’s hate and madness keep them from being themselves. Marathons around the country have seen a surge of runners signing up as well as volunteers offering to help.
I am I still tired, yes, but my spirit has been renewed. Thanks to the words and actions of my fellow Americans such as George Takei in his blog. I have to believe that there is hope and a better way to live for all of us. One that doesn’t involve hate or discrimination. One that moves forward.
When I started this post, I was dwelling on all of things weighing me down. All of the things I forgot for a moment to look around me with gratitude and love. I had taken on the idea that I needed to be perfect. I don’t and neither does my country.