The "F" Word

When Jason and I were first married we made a pact to never mention the word "divorce" and if we ever had to talk about it we'd refer to it as "the 'D' word." Looking back, and I can only guess, I'd say that our pact was fear-based rather than founded on the security of our relationship. Like how when we were kids, we'd ask Jesus to forgive our sins each and every night for fear of dying in our sleep and waking up naked at the judgement gates with our sins on the big screen. Was I sorry that by throwing Wes' pants into the pile of sawdust puke I'd be burning the bridges of friendship? No. I just wanted to make sure that me and my pants weren't being thrown into the fiery furnace.

Ignoring the urge to throw up and swallowing back the vomit won't stop the purge. Like, I thought I was done my morning sickness phase as the last time I threw up was about two weeks ago but just this morning my orange juice met porcelain. And I always believed with my whole heart that I wouldn't be a divorce statistic. I'm a non-conformist. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorces? Fuck that, not me! I dug my heels in, but into the wrong foundation.

Fear sucks.

I came into work yesterday with puffy eyes and cry-face. I told Bonnie through pathetic gaspy sobs that I had listened to Lee Ann Womack's song "I Hope You Dance" on the way to work bawling my eyes out, thinking about my kids. It's these lines that get me every time:

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance, 

Never settle for the path of least resistance.

Living might mean taking chances but they're worth taking, 

Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making.

I think our biggest obstacle in life is fear. I really do. It's not death that kills us. I mean, ultimately death has the last word but it's fear that snuffs our life out before death can even touch us. We're so scared of failure that we don't even look up. We're all just heads down, hands tied behind our backs, two feet in the grave. As if by not looking up at the climb we can pretend that it doesn't even exist. Meanwhile, we're left behind while everyone else digs their heels into the side of the mountain to get to the top to enjoy the view.

I want our kids to shake off fear and face their mountains. Of course I don't want them to feel the pain of the climb. But even more so, I don't want them to miss out on the view at the top. If I truly want this for them then I need to be an example of a fearless leader. Trudging through uncharted territory, often messy with sawdust puke, we'll eventually get to the top. And then we'll all look back down at what we went through, and it will all seem so small from way up here. 

So small from way up here.