settle down, it’ll all be clear
don’t pay no mind to the demons
they fill you with fear
the trouble it might drag you down
if you get lost, you can always be found
just know you’re not alone
cause i’m going to make this place your home
that song, “home” by phillip phillips sure is catchy. and heck, the dude’s name is even catchier.
i feel like it puts into words what i cannot begin to express. it puts into words how i feel right now at this very instant, being almost four-months since i met my first daughter face-to-face. (gosh, it feels like an eternity ago. i miss that sweet, feisty little girl more than i can bear right now.)
have i told you about those moments? those moments when i labored calmly in the good samaritan hospital? there were no demons. there wasn’t any fear. anxiety, maybe, but surprisingly, fear had no place in my heart that night. instead, a nervous excitement filled the air – we were getting to meet our daughter! – and yet so did many, many questions. would she live? for how long? would she donate her organs? how would we as her parents cope with this inconceivable burden being placed upon us?
but we never feared that it would wreck us. we knew our lives were changed, and it might drag us down for a bit.
it did. i’ve been to the darkest depths of loss and i’ve physically ached to hold her lifeless body again at any cost. i’ve had insecurities that i blanket by a fake, plastered smile. i’ve taken long, hot showers to ease the pain and cried harder in the night than i ever thought possible. i’ve been surrounded by my favorite people in the world and yet still felt alone and empty and meaningless. those demons are real. those demons of “what ifs” are scary and dark and i just wish they’d escape my thoughts forever.
but what i’ve come to realize is that this new place, this new me … it’s now home. there is no “what if we had known this would happen four years ago? how would i have lived my life differently?” you can’t. it happened. this is the new me, and i can only do the best i can to keep those shadows of the dark at bay.
there’s this fine line between scaring those demons right out of my mind and covering them up. i can’t quite tell the difference yet, but sometimes i smile and think that maybe they’re finally gone for good. and then i remember. i start spinning in this downward spiral that is sometimes hard to escape from. but i’m getting better; there is progress and there is light. that’s all one can ask for, right? progress and light?