I’ve been listening to the music from Rent lately. (Because I have ocd and I first got the cd for my 15th birthday (100 years ago), so I have to listen to Rent every year in the fall.)
I love the play. I know it by heart. (I’m actually rehearsing for a one woman performance of Rent on the milk crate at yonge and dundas. Just waiting for the homeless guy dressed as santa to give up the spotlight/milk crate for me.)
One of the themes from the play that is speaking to me today is “how do you measure a year?” This season is a reflective time of year. This year, with my move to an actual house, I’m actually noticing the season. There were no trees near my condo but now I have a yard and a residential street full of yellow leaves and it feels like fall.
It makes me remember where I was last year. Has it been a good year? a hard year? a year of recovery? a year of pain? There were so many different pieces of each month, each day, each minute…How do I measure the year? In cups of coffee? In paperclips, in post-its, in pills?
I take a lot of pills. I don’t really know where this post was going to go. I’m actually having a hard time getting my thoughts into words. I want to write but stringing the text together isn’t really happening for me right now.
I feel like if I didn’t have my meds and willpower (or maybe just meds) I would just explode like a rocket blowing it’s top. But even though I’m simmering, my lid is being held on. Like a pressure cooker that I’m not going to open.
My head feels cloudy. It’s just full of cotton. But my body feels strong and slim. I feel like I could run a marathon and then build a house and then enjoy a refreshing drink of ice water and go for a swim across a lake. Am I rambling? I spent $12 on chocolate bars today. I just had to have them all. I only ate one- so far.
What was I saying? Right… cups of coffee. There were lots of cups of coffee this year.
A year ago, my marriage and my future were on very shaky ground. There was so much uncertainty. I didn’t know if I was going to make it through the tornado. Now I think I’ve made a bit of peace with the tornado. Like I’ve got a backpack for it and I’ve built up my muscles so that I can carry it around now while I go through the motions of ‘normal’ life.
So, like we learned from Rent, let’s measure the year in LOVE.
I learned a lot about love this year.
I learned that I can save my children if I learn to love them more than I hate myself. So I learned to love myself.
I learned to accept love from my husband and give it right back to him. Measure in love… seasons of love…525,600 minutes…how do you measure the life of a woman or a man?… in truths that she learned or in times that he cried… let’s celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends… remember the love. measure your life in love.
ps. I really wanted to post this image: but I thought I should end on an optimistic note. Even though these very real fears are lingering: