The last few years have been, well, let us say, difficult. Difficult for many people, the nation, heck, the world. I admit, things have been challenging for me personally. At times, it has felt like an ever narrower spiral downwards and there have been moments when my entire efforts were consigned to fending off despair.
Oh, last November, I was thrilled to receive a big booster of hope, but pragmatically, I realized that whatever accomplishments arose from that momentous election were unlikely to be in time to alter my dilemma. I continued to struggle along, plodding, head-down, fighting against what often felt like overwhelming odds. It seemed that all my energies were focused on survival, not living.
Yesterday, due to an amazing string of events, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I looked up at 5:27 p.m. and noticed, the sky was blue and felt the first stirrings of sense of almost, well, happiness.
Yesterday was indeed quite a day. I awoke a little before 6 a.m. here on the West Coast. As usual, I first let my dog outside, opening the door to the dump I've been living in, because it's all I could afford, so she could do her "business" in the tiny yard. Then, as each morning, I checked the news headlines.
Wow. First eye-opener of the day. The President, a man I greatly admire (yes, man, as in mere mortal,) received quite the acknowledgment. I remembered that he had spoke out against the Bush Folley in Iraq, when it was distinctly unpopular to do so. I remembered his "Global Tour," widely heckled, and how he reached out to so many nations, cultures, faiths, and people, making the tenous beginnings to heal some ugly rifts long in the making. I remembered the jeers from the right regarding his change of posture on a certain missile sheild. I thought of his efforts towards beginning the long road to nuclear disarmament. I smiled. After all, the road to any substantial change is long and winding; no simple nor easy journeys there. This man laboring under an incredible load of complex and critical problems, while being faced with unceasing criticism, living under a microscope and having his every word and movement parsed, well, he just got a boost. Someone gave him a nod, recognized how he is struggling, engaging in the most important battle of wits, battling moment by moment to incrementally move people, the nation, the world, in a better direction.
Sure, there is a chorus of voices saying his efforts should only be acknowleged if they are successful. I laugh. As if real change is instantaneous and can be measured in such a timely fashion. It is no coincidence that so many great minds and deeds are not fully recognized until long after the moment itself has passed, often posthumously. Furthermore, efforts should be recognized for the labor itself, for the personal dedication to the higher purpose, even if they do not succeed.
Well, I had no time to continue to savor the moment. I had to start the one hour drive to pick up some more contract work from a law firm. The last few years, that's all the work I've been able to scrounge up. I only wish more hours were available, but then, it's a physical challenge for me to keep up now. You see, even in a good economy, a middle aged woman with chronic serious health issues is not typically first on the hiring list. It really doesn't matter that she is honestly quite good at her work. It doesn't matter that her legal research, analysis, and writing are, frankly, of the highest quality. Prospective employers see her gender, age, and health problems, and stop looking.
A dear friend of mine, younger, a real firebrand, and one heck of a litigator, became fed up with the ill treatment she was receiving from the firm she was with. She left and went into contract work and I've joined up with her. Together, we've decided upon a leap of faith. Our skills and expertise compliment each other well, our personalities balance out nicely, and our ethics and standards mesh perfectly. We've begun the arduous process of putting together a business plan and seeking out a small business loan. We're going to reach for our star, and open our own small firm. Will it work? Who knows, in this economy. But if we don't at least reach for our star, it will never work; that is certain.
After I picked up the latest contract work, we met with a lender at a bank that specializes in small businesses. We've picked a nice office space we'd like to lease, at a very reasonable cost for commercial space; good location, etc. We're working frantically to line up all the moving pieces and hope to open our office after the first of the year. We're excited, but a tad nervous, honestly.
While we were driving about like lunatics from appointment to appointment, we passed through a peaceful, cozy neighborhood and noticed a small house for rent. We smiled at each other. By the end of the day, with my friend/partner's help, I had a deposit down on the older, newly renovated cottage. I called my son to share the news, and he crowed with glee, as he's been so worried about "you living in that dump that needs to be condemned." So I get to move on the first of next month to a place without a leaking roof, horrible plumbing, no dry rot, no fungus growing through the rotted wall, and no errant bird sometimes flying through, via the rotted eaves. To say the least, I am ecstatic. I even have people to help me move, since I'm not physically up to the experience on my own.
As I do since my mother passed away, I paused in the middle of the madness to call and check on my elderly father. He has a bad heart, asbestosis of the lungs, and is in a very deep depression after losing Mom, his companion and lover for 62 years. He'd been to the doctor in the morning and got a decent report. The anti-depressants are beginning to help, he's gained a few pounds. His oxygen levels increased slightly after a year on the nasty-tasting medicine he hates. Small steps towards improving the quality of his life as the inevitable end moves nearer. He's recently had to move in with my sister, which he had very mixed and complicated feelings about, losing his home of 50 years that he shared with Mom; but not being alone all the time is better for him too. He sounded almost a little chipper, and I smiled, a bit less worried about him.
So last night, I'm driving back to my hovel at the end of a long, hectic, exhausting, surprising and exhilerating day. I'm smiling again, and I suddenly realize I haven't cried yet today. I've cried every day since my mother died January 30th. I cried every day before that as I watched her fade away so painfully. I cried every day before that due to the pain of my badly broken back. I cried every day before because of fear and frustration that I couldn't support myself properly, that I lost my health insurance and, thus, the medications I need. But yesterday, I didn't cry.
Exhausted, I checked the news headlines before collapsing to sleep, as is my wont. Again, there was crowing and baying regarding the Nobel. Yet again, I was reminded that while the end goal may be uncertain, for years, decades, or even a lifetime, it is the struggle, the hope, the effort, the labor we expend towards the end that is truly an achievement. So I fell asleep, smiling, and I didn't cry yesterday.
Yesterday was quite a day, indeed.