See what had happened was....
I'd spent about 2 1/2 hours in front of my battered, bruised, very loud and seriously outdated desktop pouring out my most intimate thoughts about how after the death of my mother, I'd gone completely bonkers. As I was editing, I actually began wondering how I'd been able to maintain the custody of my children during this period of grief inspired inertia where auto response was the norm for nearly four years.
To say I was a mess was like saying Mount Rushmore was a finger painting...uh no
SOOOOOO, there I was caught up in a moment of complete and utter reverie, trying to finish with some anecdotal insight that would cover up my now naked soul. I sat there, in my tiny kitchen, ignoring everyone and everything around me with my finger paused over the enter button ready for the world to see what I'd gone through. I hit the enter button, full of emotionally released joy for having had the courage to finally put into words what I hadn't been able to for over seven years. I'd tried to write poems about it...I'd started at least four short stories beginning with the death of the characters beloved mother...I'd even had about two or three small journals (none of them finished mind you) about how I'd been so consumed with the loss of my mother and how it effected me mentally and ultimately changed who I had defined myself to be. I had conquered that which refused to be vanquished...my poignant emancipation from grief.
I was ready to move on now
WAIT...WHAT IS THIS...THIS "ACCESS DENIED"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HUH
I sat there for a minute pretty much trying to decide if I was just hallucinating or had just hit the wrong button...either way I wasn't worried. I'm a pro at not getting rid of ANYTHING until I have a backup to the backups backup. I have been known to have up to five copies of a poem, manuscript, song, thought, idea etc. in five different places not including the two on the desktop and laptop that I just can't seem to get rid of in case I didn't save the exact same version on each. As a friend of mine would say "I'ma safety girl...that's me!"
I hit the back button with the certainty and bravado of a seasoned veteran of the "Lost Word Documents" brigade. I had learned my lessons well, I wasn't some punk new comer to this writing game, I was still using dos when Microsoft word was still in its beginning stages of global takeover. I knew the rules...never ever not cut and paste before hitting enter.
"ACCESS DENIED" "LOGIN IN PAGE"
I was stunned into silence, poised for battle with this stupid computer and all its mechanical hardware and internet beta versions. They were gonna spit out my blog if it meant I had to take this damn thing apart with my bare teeth. My momma ain't raise no fool! Somebody was giving up something today and it damn sure wasn't me. I'd just spent the better part of three hours pouring my soul out to the world trying to piece together the events of my shattered life in three acts; The Heinous, The Pitiful and The Damaged. I'd reminisced about my lack of focus, loose sense of existence and poor judgement, my incredible resilience in the face of opposition, the reality of mental health issues and finding myself again.
I had overcome some real crap and now this!
"Please come back... please please please come back..." I begged in the voice of Flick from A Christmas Story as he stood there helpless, humiliated and outmaneuvered by the "I triple dog dare ya". Tongue frozen to the flagpole as his friends and classmates hurried back to class because the bell rang.
Sigh, I was defeated I said to Waffles, my beloved Lhasa Apso, as he sniffed his butt, yawned and flopped down on the living room floor.
It took me a while to lift my head up from the makeshift desk I call my office. No, the dent in my forehead was not from having banged my head continually on the keyboard, it was the pen that sat on the keyboard thank you very much. I looked around trying to figure out if it were all a dream or if by some grace of God I had actually saved it to my documents folder. No such luck pumpkin.
And then suddenly, by some miracle, I began to smile and felt quite okay with just having lost one of my best blogs ever. I'd accomplished something amazing...I was ok. I had survived the death of the woman whose image is burned into my brain as the first example of regal beauty and intellect. I had been able to express into words the stark reality of grieving the loss of a beloved parent. I had by the grace of God lived through a series of unfortunate events and come out golden bronzed and standing tall with only a few visible dents to show for it. I had managed to reach back into my memory box and extract the most painful period of my life and not drown in its overwhelming sadness. So what if nobody read it, so what if all the words were now scattered to internet heaven never to be seen or heard from again. In a two day period I had laid to rest all the pent up frustration, confusion, anxiety, stress, anger, love, fear, hurt, growth, and desire I'd been holding on to since May 4, 2003.
That which does not kill us, makes us stronger!
I survived the devastation of losing my first and best friend; the words were just a commemoration of that event. The fact that no one but me, my mother and God would ever see them only meant that we were the only people who needed to see them. I had the opportunity to see how I had been guided to those who could help me regain a footing back to myself and my sanity. I discovered the true meaning of faith, I emerged a woman so far removed and unlike the one who began this journey that I literally have no recollection of me before that fate filled date.
I was free in every possible embodiment of that word
I exhaled for the first time in my life...so what if nobody knew but me.
Cynthia Johnson - Ibaye*
*Ibaye - is a Yoruba language term giving honor to those who have made transition
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The Leeway Foundation