loony bin

I wonder what one has to do in order to be put into the loony bin. Last night I had thought, maybe I can walk out of my apartment in nothing but a bra, boxers and cowboy boots. I would walk down past the mall to a hotel that had an outdoor pool and jump in... boxers, bra, boots and all... then I'd sing the Star Spangled Banner at the top of my lungs until they picked me up and placed me in a mental institution. I could lay in bed all day, get three meals brought to me on a little tray, along with some wonderful emotion numbing drugs, and just be blah. I could get as angry as I want. I could get as depressed as I want. I could let all of the emotions just bubble to the surface instead of hiding behind sarcasm and a smile. With my luck, though, I would have just been put in jail.

Today I saw this little girl, probably about 2 or 3 years old. She was walking a ways behind her older sister and just wailing... tears staining her cheeks. What is the age when you learn to hide your emotions in public. Is it a lesson that our parents teach us? There is no crying in baseball.. or in public. Never yell when you are angry. Never laugh too loud when something is funny. Smile... if you don't smile then everyone will wonder who died.

Ted Rogers Allaire. That's who died. In August of 2003, I moved to Mt. Pleasant, SC with 2 of my best friends. We hadn't even lived in SC for a week before I had met Ted. He strut through the smoky bar up to the microphone to sing Bon Jovi at Karaoke... jeans, black shirt, black cowboy hat... it was the perfect scene from a sappy romantic comedy. A month later, the cowboy remembered me when he saw me again. We began dating, fell in love, began wedding planning, and then like every fairy tale (at least in my life), everything fell apart. We had been together for 2 and a half years when I finally broke everything off for good. In the scheme of things, it was for the best... even through the pain of a broken heart, and the subsequent pain of losing that perfect wedding I had been planning on.

Sunday evening I received a call from who I have learned now was his wife, although I had always only known her as his ex-girlfriend. Ted was in a jet ski accident on Saturday night and died. I can't seem to say anything else... can't say he passed away or didn't make it or moved towards the light or even kicked the bucket... Ted is dead. He is dead and we had really loved each other.

Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am. But I am mostly avoiding people so that I don't have to exhaust myself keeping to society's rules about public displays of emotion. I have gone just a little crazy. I don't think its truly time for the loony bin, but I don't even have the energy to keep up with my own thoughts and emotions. I have told people for almost a year now just how very excited I am to turn 30. I have said that the twenties have done all they could to beat the hope out of me. I think those damned twenties are just doing their best to get a few last kicks in. I just hope they have gotten it all out, because I don't think I can handle another blow.

Yet I stare those twenties in the face, hand balled into a fist and say "take that you damned twenties!!! I will remain an optimist, an idealist, a person with hope... I will believe in the good in people and a happy ending in the future!!" Everyone is right, even though I may be going a little nuts right now, I am strong. And tonight I remember why...

"but he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."
-2 Cor 12:9