There have been situations in my life where i have grown to detest certain questions. i heard them over and over and never came up with a good answer. For example:
"How was your mission?"
"How is married life?"
"What are you going to do with your degree?"
Now there are two questions i cringe everytime i hear...
"How are you?"
"Are you ok?"
Whether they are said in passing or in sincere concern, i honestly have no clue how to respond. Do they want the truth? How much of the truth should i give? What is the truth? Sometimes i want to say, "My husband decided he didn't want to be married anymore. How do you think i am? Would you be ok?" Usually i smile and say, "Fine, thanks. I'm fine."
After much thought i devised an answer that i believe encompasses the truth and yet won't make the questioner feel as uncomfortable as if i had said, "Life is shitty, thanks for asking." i can quite sincerely say, "i'm surviving." That about sums my life up. i get up in the morning and get ready for the day. i eat (most of the time). i talk to the people around me. i work on organizing my 3-bedroom-2.5-bath-garage-huge-apartment-full of stuff into my one bedroom. i fight the desire to crawl under the covers and sleep/hide the hours away. i try to keep the birds from crying all day. i listen to classical music (no lyrics or memories that make me extra emotional). i veg with Erika. i get ready for bed. i close my door. i fall apart until i am so exhausted i collapse. i have more nightmares than good sleep. i repeat.
But i'm surviving. For three reasons: my family, my friends, my God.
My family...what can i even say about them? Erika and Chad pulled me into their home. They ignore my screaming birds and my occasional sulks. They let me fill up their garage with my boxes until i can pull myself together enough to get a storage unit. Stephanie reminds me that life will go on, but that i am allowed to mourn a bit right now. Ian prays for me (and who could ask for more than the prayers of a missionary). Mom helps me to be practical and take care of the stuff i just don't have the strength to deal with. Dad just knows me better than anyone and reminds me that i am still special and loved.
My friends text, email, call. You have been non-judgmental. Thank you for putting my name on the prayer roll. Thank you for sending me uplifting music (it does touch my heart ever so much). Thank you for calling even when i didn't think i wanted calls. For spending the time to come see me. Thank you for the texts (man am i happy when i hear my phone beep). For offering your homes to me. For being "there" even though some of you are so far away (well...all of you, now).
And i have a testimony. My prayers are heard. i am a daughter of my Heavenly Father, who loves me, and i love Him. Someday, i have faith and hope, i will find peace and happiness again.
Until then, i am surviving.