Here’s the thing: I want to be an honest person. But sometimes I get off-track. Because of this, I really have to tell you about something that happened to me. But you need the backstory first…
As 2022 was coming to an end, I was struggling. Hard. The whole year had been challenging in so many different ways. However, the final few months of 2022 decided to really test my ability not to spontaneously combust. October to December is almost always a busy time for most people. But this year? It was unreal. Yes, there were Halloween and Christmas festivities. The normal hustle and bustle. But there were also 8 separate birthdays to celebrate and a full-fledged theater show my kids were in with long evening practices and 6 individual performances. Never again!
On top of all of this, I started 2 new jobs and my schedule was all over the place. I wasn’t getting in my workouts or any quiet time so my stress level was through the roof. Illness swept through my household. We’re talking about every person being sick 3 separate times. My kids were snotty, coughing, and cranky for what felt like forever. My chronic bronchitis flared up with a vengeance and I found myself needing medical assistance after coughing up blood and not being able to catch my breath. My kids were having troubles at school. There were a lot of conversations and tears. It was all just feeling like too much. Then, a 16-year-old kid with no license, no insurance, and who was high as a kite at the time slammed into my car one evening while my kids and I were driving home. He completely totaled my vehicle and banged me and my family up pretty badly, both physically and mentally, in the process. I was told that just a few seconds of difference in the timing of it would’ve most likely meant that all 3 of us wouldn’t have survived and that information continued to jolt my system every time I got behind the wheel. 😞
So when it came time to ring in the New Year, I was definitely still reeling from the old one. Walking into the new year felt a little bit like walking into an obvious trap. “What terrible events await me now?!” I couldn’t help but thinking to myself. I just felt terrified. I did try to be positive. I tried to celebrate with my kids the best I could but I was freaked out and sad. I tried to stay upbeat when talking to you through my Instagram posts but I just wasn’t feeling it in my heart. I felt like a complete LIAR. I was saying there was hope but I absolutely didn’t feel it.
On January 2nd, I had already had enough of 2023! At least that’s how it felt. 🙃 I woke up in sadness and fear and decided to spend some time talking to my Higher Power. I told my Higher Power how I was feeling so utterly hopeless; I talked about how hesitant I was to start this new year and how exhausted I was from the years before. I expressed how it had been a really long time since I had felt any hope at all in my own heart and how I just didn’t want to live like this anymore. I asked for guidance. I asked for help in developing my capacity to hope again because I felt like I had lost it. I spoke from my heart and just let it all out. And, when I had said all I needed to say, I drug myself out of bed and got ready to try to stomach another day.
It just so happened that I had plans for later that day. My cousin, my brothers, and I had decided a week or so beforehand that we would get together that day for what we were referring to as a “Cousin Christmas.” Now, this was not a regular thing. In fact, it was the first time we’d ever done anything like this at all. We are family, yes. We share some DNA. But, unfortunately, and for many reasons, we aren’t all what I would refer to as “super close.” However, we had made plans to try to start changing that this year! My cousin, her fiancée, and their kids. Me and my kids. My brothers and my baby brother’s girlfriend all gathered together to celebrate the season one last time. We had some snacks. We made gingerbread houses. We played some games. It was all pretty simple, really. Until about halfway through the event, when I had this surprising moment…
A moment when everything slowed down.
A moment when I felt a lightening feeling slowly rise up from my belly into my chest.
A moment where I was taken back by the scene I was a part of and a new perspective and understanding settled over me like a mist in the morning.
Earlier that day, I had asked for help cultivating hope again. I didn’t know how it could come and I was honestly very skeptical. But a knowingness had come to me there at my cousin’s house, as the kids snuck tastes of white icing and stuck peppermints, gumdrops, and sprinkles onto their creations. I quietly realized that I was surrounded by people who have all experienced great loss and pain. Even the children. So many of us in attendance that day have experienced emotional, physical, and sexual abuse in different ways and forms from parents, partners, and people who should’ve never treated us the way they did. One-third have tragically had a parent die as a young child. Others of us lost our living parents to substance abuse or other circumstances. We’ve been through terrible divorces and fights to keep ourselves and our kids safe. We’ve experienced disconnection, abandonment, rejection, and rage. Just about all of us have descended from deep dysfunction and absolutely carry that generational trauma in our bodies. If everyone there could have emptied their pockets and tangibly placed our collective grief on the table right alongside our gum wrappers, loose coins, and lint, it would’ve buckled the table’s surface, I’m sure of it. It’s the type of pain that sometimes makes you not want to go on.
But we have. Every single one of us. Some in bigger ways. Some in smaller ways. But, still. All of us have continued to live our lives and keep trying each and every day. Maybe everything that hurt us hasn’t healed just right. Maybe the pain still requires our presence, maybe we still need to go back and do more – the wounds still need to be cleaned out correctly. But you know what? We were all there. Sharing food. Talking about life. Making gingerbread houses. Laughing and playing and enjoying the time together. ❤️
And the meaningfulness of that moment in time slid under the veil of my consciousness and clearly said to me “Look at this. Feel into this. You asked for the capacity to hope and I’ve tangibly placed it all around you. It’s here in this room right now and here in these hearts as well.” I let myself acknowledge it. I thought about it for the rest of the night. And, now, I’m sitting here the next morning writing it all up because I feel compelled to share it with you. Here’s what I know: I wasn’t lying to you when I said there was hope to be had. I was lying to myself when I said that there wasn’t. This doesn’t magically change everything for me. I know dark days are still to come and a lot of hard work. But I also know that I will return to this page and read it over and over again throughout 2023 when I need to be reminded. I’ll keep my head up. I’ll be present with my pain. And I’ll plan the next cousin gathering. Because it matters.
I’m grateful beyond words for this moment at the beginning of the year and for a higher power who hears me always. Happy New Year, my friend. May it be blessed and better than ever for you and yours.
With my sincerest love,
Cassandra ❤️