Last night I went to bed so distressed and defeated. I dreamt all night that Tiger and I were doing chemo as well. We knew we had to stick together, to make it through.
I woke up this morning, so renewed ... and different. It's hard to explain it without sounding like a complete nutjob. It feels like I have been given a reprieve. I believe I'm living in Grace.
I was brought up Catholic ... First Holy Communion, Confirmation, church every Sunday. Fucking hated it - it was so boring. God was powerful and strong, a man (obviously!) .... and a nasty, hateful, vengeful prick. I was terrified of Him. Then I went to confession - I would kneel in that little booth, nervous guts, and tell the priest my sins. Sometimes, it felt like he was waiting for more sins, after I told him all of mine. So, I started making them up. I started lying to the priest! Wasn't that a bigger sin than all of mine put together? The rest of my Sundays were spent in such anxiety, I would look at my mum and my sisters and envy their peace of mind, all the while my mind was screaming out You are going straight to hell! Liar!
Anyway fast-forward to when I started counselling for the first time in my life, because I was so, so depressed and fucked up. It was AWFUL. I was 21 years old! I only went to the counsellor twice, didn't bother going back. Because "He did nothing - all he did was write down my drinking and drugging history."
I bought books to find out who God was - Mormons, Scientology, the Bible. I went to my first rehab. I became a born-again Christian, until they staged an intervention and all laid hands on me and asked for the 'demon' to come out.
As I've grown and matured, so has my relationship with God.
The God I believe in isn't the judgemental God of my childhood anymore. The God I believe in sent very fucking powerful Angels - from this world and another - to watch out for me as I went through what I did. God gave me love through my precious Nan, oh she loved me! She didn't look straight through me, she saw me, hugged me, told me I was worth something.
My God is a God of coincidence and strange happenings. Gives me magic and miracles. My God got me knocked up at five months clean, knowing what a good mother I would be. If I pray for patience, my God sends me a traffic jam. My God wants me to always keep growing and learning. Not to give up.
God is Buddha is Jesus is Muhammad is Love is Compassion is Truth is Spirit is Sacred. The big sky and a grain of sand.
Months before Mr TCs diagnosis, I was aware of a big darkness. I thought it was because I hadn't spent much time on my spiritual self, and kept thinking I needed to connect with God again. Later I realised I was sensing the shadows of my husbands black tumours. Cancer must be the opposite to God.
The birds and butterflys before my embryo transfer; the amazing relationship with my sisters; spine-tingly moments when someone has shared something powerful in a meeting; the way Monkey looks at me (me - the crankiest mummy in town, for fucks sake. And he still loves me!); lead singer of the best band in the world kneeling down in front of me - in front of sixty thousand people - and holding my hand. Bono held my hand. No other cunts.
God God God God God.
God is listening to Coldplays latest album on my iPod. Especially the title track, Viva La Vida. To me, it's all about Mr TC, how he now sweeps the streets he used to own.
Today I feel Grace has been given to me. Without a doubt, I could not get through this next period of my life on my own. I can't do it by myself ... and now I'm not. I feel Peace and Calm and Strong. I could not have recovered from drugs and alcohol without a spiritual awakening .... there's no way I can get through Mr TCs cancer AND a newborn AND mothering Tiger AND being in recovery. I mean who the fuck could? Not even Angelina Jolie and her truckload of hired help could handle this shit, I'm sure. (Ooh, what I wouldn't give for a nanny right now!)
Today I watched Tiger jumping on the trampoline, my heart soaring every time he showed me his next move. He always begs me to watch him jumping. I watched him living in that moment, he was literally jumping for joy ... so free - from worries, and pain, and panic. Just jumping. Tonight we made cups of tea and sat in his room on beanbags and watched Dumb and Dumber, laughing together at the most annoying sound in the world. I just changed Monkeys nappy .... he was looking at me with SUCH adoration. I said "Yes, don't worry. Mummy will watch Jim Carrey movies with you when you get older."
My heart is lighter, like I have a river in there. I feel so blessed, and stronger, and capable. I also know that this feeling is real, and will last.
Thank motherfucking God for that.
(God knows I swear and is ok with it.)
"What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things."