Tuesday, 1 January 2019

I Am The One Who Knocks. (I Mean Cries ... I Am The One Who Cries.)

I'n my lifetime I've cried an entire ocean so deeply that mapmakers need to change their maps to add a new ocean called "Ocean of Eden's Tears." Hey what's the difference between an ocean and a sea? Sounds like a joke but it's not .. I really don't know.

Reminds me of that time I was on a boat with my friend Lou after an intensive World Vision trip in Uganda .. we took time out to visit a safari place afterwards and on this boat I asked "So what's this lake called?" And Lou kind of slowly answered because she thought I might be joking. "Umm, it's the River Nile?" and I was all NO FRICKING WAY I THOUGHT THE RIVER NILE WAS IN EGYPT. Lou said the River Nile started in Egypt (I think I can't remember) ... I said something about how we were in Africa so how could the Nile be in Africa and when Lou said that Egypt was a part of Africa I nearly fell off the boat.

Egypt is part of Africa. Wow. I love admitting how dumb I am because it's funny to be so dumb and so smart at the same time. There's no such thing as a stupid question like once I was with my Uncle Stevie at Bakers Delight and we asked for some BAP rolls and then I said to the lady "What does BAP stand for?" And she said in all of her years of working there she'd never been asked that question. And she didn't know what BAP rolls stood for but the next time I came in to ask her again because she was curious now too.

Curiosity is underrated.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life but every day is the first day of the rest of your life. Happy new year, every body. Every Soul. It's always "Happy" new year. Not shit new year or half-hearted new year or manageable new year or ok new year .. it's always happy. One of my life lessons to date is that we are not guaranteed happiness. It's important to feel all the other emotions too. When my son Max was four years old I bought him a book on feelings and as I read it to him I learnt it at the same time as he did. In parenting him, I parented me. Max has had a rough go with a mother like me but the upside is ... he thinks deeply. And differently. He is so intelligent it blows me away.

As for the past christmas? Here's a photo that speaks volumes:

My two sisters and I. I asked their permission to post it and they said yes and I promised I wouldn't make grand statements about it. It would be very hard to have a sister like me. I'm so grateful for grace ... and I am so, so happy that my mum had her remaining children together on Christmas Day for the first time since ... since our brother died.

I love my sisters in a Viking way and I would kill for them. They are blood. They've known me my whole life. Often when a family member dies, existing and previous fractures are brought to the surface and the family implodes sometimes for the rest of their lives.

That's not going to happen, now. The word "gratitude" doesn't even cover it. Right in the Saint Nick of time this Christmas proved good, and gentle, and accepting. I could not have endured another Christmas in the fetal position on my couch alone ... the Universe must've known that. Our grandparents long gone must have known that too. I believe our loved ones who have passed help us through. I really do.

So. Here we are, my beautiful people. I wish we could all meet and have a day together ... oh that's right, we are! I need to meet you and maybe you'd like to meet me too. Is it crazy I'm such a hermit that I'll just give out my home address and see who shows up? BYOD ...Bring Your Own Doona. I want to see who helped me. I'd like to meet the people who (embarrassingly) helped me pay my rent and buy food for my boys and paid my gas bill and helped me with my christmas presents.

How could I POSSIBLY pay that back? I've searched inside myself so hard about how you opened your hearts to me a few months back and I honestly am unsure why. I felt so unworthy and I just didn't understand?

Maybe it's because you've read me so much you know me inside out because my honesty here is real. I'm real. I stay on the internet for a reason, I open myself up for a reason, I don't want you to feel alone for a reason, I am no saint but I'm also not a bathroom renovation blogger from Utah who's Mormon with a kajillion followers and children with immaculate everything. (Not bagging those people out, I just am not one. At all.)

Just want you to know I was on a horrific darkest path of my life last year pretty much ever and you saved me. I will tell you about it sometime I promise it's just that I have sons who I need to tell first. I owe them that. And hey guess what- all the pain of them being held for ransom, all the wailing, all the thinking that maybe I should move away to spare them even more pain?

It's all gone. Because I persevered. Because I forgot I am Eden Fucking Riley and when I got to the depth of the bottom quite recently I thought ... well. So what do I do now?

The only thing I now what to do, the only thing I taught myself, the only thing I do better than most people I know (I'm allowed to write that, my self-esteem is at an all-time low but I'm working on it.)

.... I rise up. Again. And again, and again, and again. My strength is proportionate to my pain I mean fuck me dead I woke up this morning weeping. Loudly. Again. Because I was having a dream that I pretty much had my shit together and I was leading these people and then bam I woke up and remembered that my lease has not been renewed and I love this house but I gotta go and I've started packing for a place I don't know where I will live and why is life so bullshit?

It's not bullshit at all. My glass may be half full or half empty but either way there's water in it. I have a lot more than people in this hard fallen world have.

Stay with me, you there. We're in it together, remember? See you tomorrow.


If you ever like/enjoy/resonate with/cry at my writing ... my Paypal account is: edenriley@gmail.com

Thank you doesn't cover it. One day I won't have to put my Paypal details there. That day will be such a relief of joy.

PS I still don't know what a BAP roll is.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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