Don’t you know luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity?
I didn`t know this. I don`t know this. My husband knows this and he tells me over and over again. I`m not sure I can quite get on that ride yet. One foot wants to stay on the ground but I don`t want to be dragged either. Being the wife of someone incarcerated affords me unlimited cynicism at times and even more depression than I could possibly handle on any given day. I`m also quite frequently on auto pilot. I just go and go and go and then have a meltdown. Repeat.
The notion of throwing all of my cynicism up in the air like fuck you confetti is scary and exciting and I want to believe that life could work, that love could work. How do I let go? I`m not sure. I`m trying.
The prison, this marriage, my love, has seared my core in a way that will scar forever. The sounds horrible and really I say that in the most beautifully horrific way I possibly can. This life with Jeremy has taught me a great deal about life, love, people, the human spirit, and myself. I would not be the person I am without the peace of knowing I am tethered to another soul and the hell of knowing that he is tethered to a place of hopelessness. But there is hope. I’ve refused to let myself believe it for so long. I’ve allowed myself to become incredibly jaded by circumstances and visiting and expensive phone calls and separation and crying over not getting a “normal” life like everyone else.
It’s easy to do that when you’ve exposed yourself to hopelessness for an extended period of time. It’s easy to become jaded when you’ve become content with hopelessness, when you’ve decided to invite giving up into your bed and into your brain. Time will do that to a person. Is there anyone out there who understands me? Can you relate? Do you hear me? Can we stop inviting giving up and hopelessness into our lives? Can we at least try?
For the first time in a long time, even though I`m in a dark tunnel I cannot see out of, I feel a small spark of shifting climate in myself and in the world. I feel like freedom, literally and metaphorically is so fucking possible. I am opening myself up to possibility, to dreams, to hope and it is terrifying. Fear will take you hostage and make you feel like it is all there will ever be. I am a hostage trying to escape.
How do you trust the person whose hand you cannot hold? You hold your own hand. How do you trust the person who is your mirror but has no idea what your hair smells like when you wake up in the morning? You believe that they just know…and you smell your own hair. You are one. You and this person. Believing is a weird bridge that ties everything together in the most unexpected, painful, and unlikely way.
Preparation. Opportunity. Is that luck? Maybe, but if I don`t stay receptive, I`ll never know.