A New Year, New Beginnings

The 31st is New Year’s Eve and a Blue Moon.

Not only the time of new beginnings, but if you were the superstitious type or of a certain religious bent or another, the Blue Moon coinciding offers an incredibly significant time of second chances. 

But to truly embrace the new, one has to let go of the old. I normally deal with things with humor, but this year has been hard. It’s held tiny things, insignificant on the surface; but like a pebble you don’t slow down long enough to remove from a shoe, capable of creating a crippling blister.  Other things scarred my soul.

To begin again, fresh, strong, good-intentioned. Whew. That’s hard. That means I have to let go. Let go of regret. Let go of disappointment. Let go of hurt. Let go of rage.

I have to forgive. Forgive slights, forgive hurts whether deliberately inflicted or accidental; like the friend who told me my writing was so “impacted”. I hope she meant “impactful”, especially since I’ve been the one hounding her to increase her vocabulary. Then again, maybe I aggravated her enough for her to say exactly what she meant.  Sigh. Still love her.

I have to forgive lost opportunities. I have to forgive myself. For feeling lost, feeling petty, feeling doubtful. Forgive, yet not forget. Because if I forget, I’ll make the same mistakes over.

Letting go of the rage will be hardest.

Every one of us has had a friend or known an individual who succumbed to something destructive and unhealthy. Maybe as a teenager, or even a young adult. We glimpsed dark undercurrents, dangerous and mostly unseen, but even we couldn’t see or understand all the repercussions at the time. Caught up in it as they were, you know they surely didn’t.

Some of us have been lucky enough to see those same friends trapped by chance or addiction overcome the demons tormenting them. We grew hopeful, indulging in silent celebration when that person recovered enough humanity to engage in a full and meaningful life. Even more amazed when they paid their debt of prison and recovered to the point of an extremely profitable career. He walked steel, something that took courage beyond my imagination. I have one particular picture of him alone on a beam, skylined twenty stories up. That absolute solitude depicted was terrifying, made me uncomfortable looking at it. I couldn’t imagine experiencing it on a daily basis. 

He maintained to the point of earning the trust of Homeland Security to work all over the world. I fooled myself into believing his assertions that career was enough to sustain him on the straight and narrow.

My rage is for sleeping demons. The ones that lay dormant long enough to allow me to drop my guard. Rage that hits twice as hard when I realize those demons had taken an insidious route, luring him into another form of addiction.

Rage that the person who sat at my table off and on for better than twenty years, who has been part of my life long enough to have brushed my child’s hair into crooked ponytails and later attend her wedding, has become someone I no longer recognize. Oh, there are glimpses of the man he used to be; enough of them to keep me hoping, fooling myself, but you know deep down he’s lost again.

He didn’t go back to the drugs. He chose the ‘legal’ route. Alcohol. Over and over I pointed out it was changing him for the worse. He’d leave it alone for weeks at a time, then slip and binge. It finally came to the point I told him to leave my home and not come back again. Drunk, fighting with his sister who’d just gotten out of prison herself, he’d showed up at my house at two in the morning. He smashed a bar stool in a fit of rage, put holes in a wall and left bruises on me. His clinging to me while he sobbed caused them: his being so unaware of himself made them unacceptable.

And only twenty-plus years of watching him struggle kept my husband from putting him through a wall.

The sherrif said speed and alcohol caused the accident. I visited the crash scene. Anything to make sense of the senseless. No brakes were applied. His truck hit the curve; he went straight. Impact with the culvert ripped the motor completely  free of the chassis. I don’t know at what point he was ejected from the vehicle. I could only study the wounds left in the earth by his pick-up flipping again and again and again. Don’t remember hitting the ground. Just remember the damp seeping through the knees of my jeans. Definitely remember praying he died on impact. Remember that oh-dear-God-don’t-let-him-have-laid-there-by-himself  feeling swamping me.

Had a strange vision of him walking that beam alone,wondering if my telling him to leave weeks earlier took his last life line.

I made myself look at everything. Then I noticed the rain of the past few days had already softened the edges of the wounds in the earth, blurred them. My grief is still raw. I know it will take much longer for the edges of my wounds to soften, come together, but I saw it as the Creator’s assurance that time would come. I’m still pissed, still needing to scream at him for his stupidity. That’s where most of my rage is, not being able to. 

So. My New Year’s resolution is to begin again. To forget what doesn’t matter in the long run anyway.  To stop and shake out the pebbles. Never know when I might need to run to–or from–something. I will sincerely forgive; myself as well as others.

 And I will let go of my rage.

I’ll let it go to honor the better memories of James Thomas “Cuz” Nobles. Rest in peace, little brother. They can’t touch you any more. You’ve finally slipped your demons. I’ve realized it’s your Blue Moon.

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6 Responses

  1. Runere, darlin’ — that was seriously impactful (having a serious emotional content, effecting change, etc) piece of writing.
    Praying for you — and all the Sizzlers — as we begin a new and even better year.

  2. Runere- as you know, my prayers are with you in your grief. So sorry it ended the way it did for him. And sorry for all the damage he caused along the way,

    By the way, it is also a partial lunar eclipse tonight, too. So a triple moon whammy. Was just discussing it with # 1 son.

    • His remorse was so sincere while sober. That’s what makes it even more sad. Appreciate the kind thoughts.

      Know the moon, do you? lol Always sensed a kindred feeling with you. In spirit, even though I know not in practice.

      Oh, what the heck! Blessed be, little sister!

      • I am a very spiritual person, Runere. Have a thing against organized religion though-too much hate and killing for their God. I like to think of God as a God of peace.

        Moon- yep. I HAVE to know it as most of the people I deal with in my business are lunarly affected. LOL!

  3. What a touching piece. It’s a hard thing to watch someone slowly destroy themself especially someone you love with so much potential. We do all need second chances (and third and fourth chances). I completely understand the rage and hope the new year brings you peace from that rage abd I hope you find healing in your writing, it is often cathartic. New Years Blessings to you.

  4. I love you Lois.. Your in my prayers, and thoughts.. I could post my thoughts, but in this case I will not.. but just know we’re all fighting our demons in one way or another. We understand each other’s pain…and happiness when it happens. May this new year be filled with positive things for I’m so weary of the downers.

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