My brother in Mexico:
"Yeah my buddy is badly sunburned. I mean, his back looks like Joe Pesci's hand after he grabbed the doorknob in Home Alone".
Phase 2 of the healing process is underway. I want to thank everyone who has been so great and so patient with me as I continue the process. I am sure I have thirteen Father's Day posts brewing for my Dad's care alone and that wouldn't be enough.
Phase 2 means I have downgraded from "wolverine with slege" to only an "occassional freak out/sock monkey attack". It means I sold my house. One set of giant responsibilities gone. Downsized a little. Unshackled a lot. It was absolutely not emotional for me to leave the house at all. I really thought it would be a little bit more. I had more attachment to the DMV I think, because of the monumental good times that were had there and the memories that place held (Anyone remember the night of the burning cork? Almost cost me my security deposit, thanks Mark and JD). Moreso, I think it was unemotional because I truly believe God wanted me to sell the house. (Insert disclaimer about not wanting to sound crazy here. I am always leery* of people who use that phrase a lot. How do you KNOW he told you ANYTHING). Well. I think the gut has a lot to do with it. And I think complete detachment and looking up at the sky and saying "Well, whatever. What. Ever. You. Want. I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just please tell me, because you know best, you know the past the present and the future, you made me, and you can see around the corners that I cannot and I completely trust You."
The series of circumstances around the sale of the house in this Market worked out almost flawlessly. I didn't lose my shirt. Maybe only some earmuffs. A few hiccups here and there that threatened the deal (and here I am not even closed yet, maybe I speak to soon). Moving happened (or is still happening), with only a few minor tragedies. Me falling down the basement stairs as one, and the boxspring mattresses not fitting up the stairs being another. (It must be noted publicly, and I choose this venue: Luke, you were wrong about King sized matress box springs belonging to people with only King-sized houses. They come as two twins. BAM).
The transition into Phase 2 was aided by some new scenery. I was in Michigan for work recently and I didn't have the luxury of sulking. New people, new situations, new harassment kept me on my toes and forced me to drop the "woe is me" and pick up my big stick.
There are signs of life. Lightness, even. The key will be to maintain a fair distance from things that make me question myself, delete the accusatory words that are bunk, and cling to Jesus, who has answered all my questions, tended my wounds, secured my future, hasn't prevented pain or trouble, and loves me enough to die for me. (I cant deal with it...can you?)
Not out of any woods. Still in the place where infection can set into the stitched up wound. But I hope soon it will become a light scar attached to a story about the goodness of God. Come quickly Phase 3.
* It has come to my attention that I use the word "leery" incorrectly". I think it's correct in this context.
