If I Knew Then

I write. And so often it brings laughter and fond memories as I find old journals and sit back and read. I often impress myself with my own insight and so much more amaze myself with my stupidity and ability to fall for someone new every week, so many pages are full of the drama created in my own mind analyzing every moment. And then there are times like tonight. I found a journal that was barely used in a sense. It starts with pictures that make you wonder if I really was almost 22. Example A.

And then I found the pages I forgot existed. The ones that I can only wish didnt but somehow cannot stop reading. I wrote the hour before I knew my Dad had left. He had left me a voicemail during Sunday School. During the third hour of church I wrote "It makes my insides ache. I feel so helpless and desperate inside even though he could be phoning about everything and anything. I need to stop letting my imagination run wild into haunted forests. Back to reality Laur, Dad just wants you to phone him. He is your father. It's no big deal. So STOP stressing over nothing. Stress causes 99% of all illnesses so I should avoid stressing at all costs."

I wish I could go back to that moment and have prepared myself better. To not have returned the call while walking by the duck pond. To not have been so alone. To not have been so unprepared to have my life shattered. Hours later I wrote again "Somedays are ultra hard. They consist of thousands of tears, heartache, uncontrollable aching, sobbing and inner pain. Today was one of those days. I hate this day. I hate it so much. It hurts so bad and I am just so sad. The moment I stop and think or talk to someone the tears just pour out. I hate how I cant control any of it. I hate how much it hurts. This days hurts too much to ever re-live it." I stopped writing for a few months after that because I thought if I didnt write then none of it would be true or real. When I picked up the pen again I wrote about the constant sorrow and how it was killing me from the inside out. I wrote about how I was unsure I could ever trust someone could love me forever after that.

Perhaps this is all way too much information. Too sad. Too real. But tonight this was my life. I reread the words I wrote and my heart broke for the girl that wrote them two years 6 months and 22 days ago. For the girl who had no idea how much sorrow and pain was about to occur upon returning a voicemail. Maybe it explains why I get anxiety when people leave me messages. Maybe it is part of why I dont like talking on the phone. That day changed my life. And I cant say that tonight I dont still feel that sorrow. I cried about it today before I even found this journal. But the saddness is different. It doesnt control my life but it is a part of it. The anger has lessened. The lack of understanding still exists and the pain may never leave. But as I cried through the words I read I realized that it hasnt all changed, time hasnt healed everything, but I am so much stronger and more loving and caring now than I was before. I am more tolerant and understanding albeit cautious and skeptical. And I am a better person because of it all. As much as I hate it sometimes I am grateful I learned what honesty is, and how to face my own emotions. It has shown me so many of my fatal flaws and given me a chance to improve, to become a better person. And I think one day I will fall in love and be happier than I ever thought possible because all of this pain and confusion and loss has taught me more about love than anything else.

So I wish I could go back and tell myself it was going to hurt more than any pain I knew but that I was strong enough and would never have to go through any of it alone. I wish I could have understood how I made myself more alone than I had to be because I was scared. But I cant go back so all I can do is sit here and take a moment to realize how far I have come and that I still have so far to go, but now I know I will never be going it alone and that I can make it through anything. And as painful as some words may feel to write or reread they give me insight and strength that I seldom find elsewhere.

I hope in another two years, six months and twenty two days I will have learned more about forgivenes and be able to look back and see growth that I cant see in the moment.