Sometimes you have to be wounded to be healed.
As we enter the year 2012, the realization is that I am entering my 39th year; the total number of years Mike was given. Many of us make new year's resolutions and such. I have never been one to make resolutions. I have personally embarked on a crazy career journey that has made me focus on it and little else. My career choices are due in great part, to Mike. But I want to make this year different, better, not about me. So I got this revelation that I am going to be stoked, this year, for Mike. With that proverb came some pretty cool heart lessons. Since Mike died, I have been unable to listen to many heart-felt stories from others, whether good or bad. My heart just has not been able to "stomach" the good or bad tears for anyone else. I get enough of that at work, therefore, radio, written, or other stories of people's trials, tribulations, and celebrations just have not worked for me. I can't say I have been hard-hearted, just bandaged. When we are sick and on the mend, we have to be a little selfish and take care so we can, later, give a bigger and better part of ourselves. Wow! Did I just say that? Did I just now get that? YEP! After all my years in health care it took a big fat AH-HA moment to realize that healing takes time. And you have to do it "smartly." I'm not saying that I am smart. In fact, just the opposite. I am pretty clueless when it comes to my own healing and understanding. So I was listening to the radio about another person's story, which was positive and tearful. And I allowed myself to tear up with them and be proud. And it didn't hurt!
Is my Mike-size hole filled? Never! Is the wound mending. Yes. It's covered with a scar. That scar is a reminder. It's what stokes me to live a wounded and mended life. You can't really have one without the other, can you?
I challenge you to be stoked for Mike. Now, I know Mike may not be everyone's motivation like he is mine. But, maybe, just maybe, he can be your inspiration to find your motivation. After all, he lived to the fullest. None of us that knew him can deny that.
I miss him more and more everyday. In some ways I hurt more than I did when he died. It's not the broken bone kind of pain it was then. That has gone. It's a deep, visceral, ache to be with him. Hence, I am stoked. That fuels the fire to keep him alive and releases that visceral pain. With the wounds comes the healing, if you allow it.
Live, laugh, love, play. Get stoked for Mike!
Rhonda
