This past weekend sucked. There really isn’t a better description for it. Other than a few bright spots, it was a crap fest.
I decided to use my Whatevs category to write a love letter to myself and to you. If you’re feeling bad, if other people’s expectations of you are wearing you down, if the comments from others are crippling, then this is for you. This is for us.
A little reminder that His all encompassing love for us is more than the circumstances of our life. His love is more than enough. We are enough to Him.
I’ve been watching The Apartment recently. It was co-written and directed by my birthday buddy Billy Wilder, and it is one of my favorite films. It addresses multiple issues with frankness and heart. It takes place during the holidays and there’s an attempted suicide. They should play this movie on TV on a loop during Christmas so that people can see suicide is not the answer.
My favorite scene (at this point in my life) is a pivotal one for the story. Baxter asks Fran what she thinks of his hat. She claims to like it, but her thoughts are elsewhere and he doesn’t believe her. Fran hands him her compact to prove that it looks nice. When he peers into it, he sees that the mirror inside is cracked. The cracked compact reveals to Baxter that Fran is in a secret relationship with their boss. She notices the dismay on his face and asks about it. He tells her it’s because the mirror is broken. Then she utters a line of dialogue that echoes my current situation:
Yes, I know. I like it that way. It makes me look the way I feel.
I feel broken. I feel ugly. I feel fat. I feel like a failure and a loser. I feel incompetent and untalented. I feel depressed. I feel these things in part because of the incident.
In case you didn’t know, I lost my second son on January 29th and I almost went with him. I don’t want to talk about it, because I don’t want to relive it. I will never completely get over this, but I know that over time, I will hurt less. Maybe I’ll be able to share it with you. Right now I’m dealing with survivor’s guilt and it is taking all that I have to even write this post. But I am going to force myself to move forward, to allow myself to grieve, and to check in with you guys more often. Here is a piece of cinematic genius until then: