Awake

"We are mosaics--pieces of light, love, history, stars--glued together with magic and music and words." --Anita Krizzan

I remember the moment when I realized I'd been sleep-walking through my life. It was a blistering hot day in Phoenix, Arizona and a song came on the radio I'd  never heard before, "Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence. I was cleaning, something I do with gusto when I'm upset, and I stopped mid-vacuuming to listen to the words. By the time it was done, my face was soaked with tears. I went to the computer, youtube'd it, and played it again. By the fourth time, I was sobbing and "awake" (my youngest daughter calls songs like this your "heartsongs", those songs that evoke strong emotions). I know I was awake because suddenly I was bombarded with emotions, the deep sorrow of losing my mother, the furious anger of watching Aunt Mattie trapped inside her own body for five long years after suffering a stroke, the profound sense of failure for a marriage I thought was over because it had atrophied to the point of glorified roommates, and the panicked sense of desperation that I was wasting my life and running out of time to fix that.

Later, when the girls came home from school, I sat in the living room floor with them and watched them play. They were immersed in roles they'd assumed from a game they'd made up and the happy bubble surrounding them made me feel warm, more grounded, and calm. I could see that they were secure enough in the world around them to let go of it and allow themselves to slip into that imaginary place that all kids know exists. I could feel the bond I shared with them holding tight, going deep, and filling me with more love than I could possibly hold.

Being awake comes with its own set of problems. While I was asleep, I didn't have to think very much, as I could just follow normal routines, i.e. get up, get the kids ready for school, get dressed, do the housework that needed to be done, pick the kids up from school, make dinner, get the kids ready for bed, collapse in bed, rinse, repeat. I still had to do these things awake but the difference was I could feel everything deeper, the love, the hurts, the loneliness, and I was aware that I, alone, was responsible for every single choice I made at any given moment. I chose whether or not those routines were ALL I was or if, in spite of them, I could become much more, experience much more, and open my world wider than just a series of daily routines. I chose to stay awake with all the joys and pains being awake entails! Some days being awake hurts like hell. But most days I am just profoundly grateful that I can feel and be...alive!

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