To everything there is a season

Honestly, I don't know why we tend to avoid the things we know will make us feel better. 

It's true, I only delete my Facebook and start posting blogs when I'm heartbroken, everyone knows that. 
I avoid Facebook like the plague when I don't feel like myself. Writing my crazy blogs, telling my story, what ever this is.. it always brings me back where I need to be. 

But in my defense, I really don't think it's my heart that did it this time.  

I mean, I did get dumped. 

I definitely got dumped. I got dumped after a football game at three o'clock in the morning.

Honestly, I feel like I had no signs that it was coming. 

(I guess that's what all the people that drink too much would say.)

Anyway, that was that.  

"Such is life" they say. 

Oh, I'll be the first to admit I was definitely upset afterwards. Not the classy kind of upset, either. My Southern roots came out a little bit. I think I kicked my car (a couple times) and yelled curse words out in the street (I'm sorry about that). I had a dying cell phone, $22 in my pocket, and no ride home. Embarrassing. 

As I'm frantically pacing around this guys driveway, I found myself more concerned about my current relationship with Verizon Wireless. 

Nothing was working. 

4GLTE, "Nation's Best Network," My ass. I could barely get to the app store let alone have the oppurtunity to actually download Uber OR Lyft. None of my friends were answering, I could barely get enough bars to Google T-A-X-I (when I spelled it right). 

I was tequila drunk with one eye closed trying to look back and remember every Yellow Cab billboard I had seen throughout my 25-years of life. Just for future reference, 433-3333 is actually not a generic Taxi cab phone number. 
I must've done what any normal person would do, I gave up and called my mom. I could tell because #411 was in my recent calls and she is the only person I know that would ever think to recommend calling that number (it still works, by the way).  

I look back and laugh now because I can so picture my mother drunkenly answering the phone at 3 am, "Rachel just call 4-1-1, they'll know what to do." "Click." 

Judging by my bruises, I must've hit the ground (hard) to immediately start Praising the Lord (Sister Mary, Allah, everyone that could be worshipped and thanked in that moment) when Yellow Cab Becky showed up. Of course, when an obviously upset, but very thankful, drunk girl crawls into your cab at 3 am...everyone wants to know the story. 
Sigh. Here we go... 

"He said I drink too much" 

I caught her eyes in the rear view mirror and we both laughed a little bit.

That's it.

That's all I had to say to Becky. 

Yellow Cab Becky talked the entire rest of the way home. 

She told me stories of her estranged children and crazy ex-husband(s), the boyfriends that still think they can "get some"… By her edge *cough*defensiveness*cough,* I got the feeling that she has been through some shit. 

Her stories made me look back and reflect on this past year. I immediately went into panic mode and rolled down the window, preparing myself for an anxiety attack. 

Crap. 

Am I a Yellow Cab Becky? Am I one of those girls that starts out pretty relatable and then turns out to be crazy? The one who fights in parking lots and stalks men at the grocery store? The one who really does ask to have a threesome with his friends? Am I going to throw up in this cab? 

I started analyzing my every relationship and questioning my normalcy, what the hell just happened? It's funny how one moment of rejection can make us go back to 1999 and question every interaction we've had since then…while we fight to recognize that one moment in time we may have lost our shit. 

I kept watching the toll go up as Becky was talking. I hated to interrupt her story about her first bar fight but I had to tell her, 

"Becky, I only have $22. You're going to have to stop right here." 

"Oh child, how far away are we?" 

…Damn, at least 6 more miles. Do I lie? What do I say?

"I can walk from here, seriously, I'll be fine."

"Shut the fuck up, child. I'm driving you home." 

Within the first 5 minutes of being in the car together, I learned it's probably not a good idea to argue with Becky. 
I just said thank you and let her finish her story. 

As we pulled up to my house, my heart sank, my calm state instantly reverted back into tequila-drunken-just-broken-up-with-Rachel. "Fuck." 

Becky got out and opened the door for me. I must've been sitting there paralyzed, legs stuck to the leather seat, probably on the verge of an anxiety attack, definitely crying on the inside for a good minute because she handed me her hand like she would absolutely need to chaperone me to the front door.  

"What's wrong, child? Ain't this your house?" 

(I wish I could type in accents)

She asked me like.. as if I really was a child, a child that's sad the ride is over and wants to go around the ferris wheel just one more time. 

"I just remembered... I don't have my house keys." 

Becky had saved me that night. Not only had she diverted the entire awkward car conversation to herself but she also drove me way farther than she should have. 

But Yellow Cab Becky already had that look in her eye like she had done this before. 
Her job wasn't done here.

"Well child.. which window are you crawling into?" She asked.

I don't know why, but in that moment, I totally put all my trust in Yellow Cab Becky. 

It didn't take that woman five seconds before she put me on her very shoulders so all 5'3"of my drunken self could fit through my living room window. 

She threw a business card in after me and told me to call her anytime, 

"Oh, and for the record, you're fucking 25-years-old. You all drink too much."

Her card is still on the refrigerator, in case of emergency, or if I just need a fun drinking buddy.

I woke up on my couch the next morning, the night before feeling like a dream. 

It was a pretty fall day. 

It still all seemed unreal until I saw the window screen on the floor. 
I checked my phone to see 14 unread text messages from the widest assortment of people.

It all started coming back to me. 

What in the world made me think my old roommate from Cullowhee could give me a ride home? Or my childhood best friend from YMCA camp? I have no idea. But, they actually responded to my cry for help and for that I am thankful. 

The next Monday at work was rough.. 

As soon as I walked in the front door, the receptionist told me I was needed at the hospital. 

Ah, back to grown-up world. 

Little did I know, I would spend the entire day defending my integrity as a social worker from one-sided nurses and angry family members. I think at one point the Palliative Care Specialist from the hospital told me I needed to further my education and that I wasn't competent enough to do my job. The situation became less and less about what this family needed but more about what I had done wrong, what my company had done wrong. There was misdirected blame and heartbreak everywhere. 

Oh, Social Work. Just what I needed. 

I thought back about Becky's bar fight story, "You may as well lett'er hit you while you're down there. No sense in fallin' down twice." 

Good advice. 

The next day, I was trapped in my office for over an hour discussing the situation with administration. Then corporate called and wanted a conference call ASAP.  I was not in the mood for anyone to be knocking on my door. 

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I just need a moment of your time."

I walked back into my office, grabbed my pen and excused myself from the conference call. 

"Are you having a good day?" 

"I'm sorry… but, no. No, I'm really not." 

(Usually, I would never answer that question honestly. Who does? No one. But like I said, on this day, my compassion was g o n e. )

"I'm sorry to bother you, Rachel. I know you're busy. (Woman starts to cry) (I start to feel like crap) I just found out my brother died this morning and I still need to tell my mom...I need you to be there when I tell my mom." 

Not only did this moment cause me to stop breathing for a second,

But it was in this very moment that I realized that.. I am not the broken one. 

Pain… Pain is all so relevant. 

This woman just lost her brother, her life long best friend. 
And her mother? Her mother just lost her oldest son. 

That is pain. That is loss. That is heart break. 

With no time to prepare, like life often does, it happens just like that.  

Thinking about that emotionally draining day at the hospital.. those people were about to lose their Dad. 
Of course it had to be someone's fault. Some times things happen in life that are so bad there has to be someone to blame… those things can't just happen. 
Not in real life. Not in my life. 

Who was I to feel annoyed? Who was I to feel impatient and defensive? 
Who the hell was I?! 

Then looking at myself being all down and out over a boyfriend breaking up with me it's…

it's n o t h i n g. 

Really? Who am I? Who the hell am I?! 

My problems, my pain, my loss…
It was a 4-month long relationship. 
Such a small snippet of my grand, wonderful life. 

Sure, I really liked him. We had great times together, I will smile thinking of all of them.

Sure, I miss him and think about him, more times than I probably should. It doesn't make me angry.  

Sure, It feels like something is missing. Someone that was a part of your life every day, suddenly isn't. It's not bad, just different. Sometimes "different" takes time to get used to.

Sure, It hurts. I'm a fucking human being and I take relationships seriously. 

I've been here before, i'll probably be here again.

This is the kind of pain that is sure to pass.

The pain that this woman is experiencing will stay with her for a lifetime.  

P E R S P E C T I V E. 

My job can be so tough. 

It can suck the life out of you, or it can bring it all back.  

I get to be the one in the room when people hear the worst news of their life. I get to be the person people can blame and yell at when they are hurt, I get to be the one living that moment with them, the one keeping it all together. Me. 
At the end of the day, I don't even feel like it's something I have to do, it's shouldn't be called "work". It's something that I am able to do, I am able to respond to these situations with the love and understanding these people need. 
It's a gift, a privilege.  

It really is very humbling and a constant reminder to me of all the important things in life I take for granted: falling leaves, a good breeze, that one song on the radio, the smell of fresh coffee, a good phone call, a pretty sunset, the kindness of a stranger…In the end, it's the little things that are the big things, those are the moments that people talk about. 

And even though some moments can really knock the wind out of us, we have the power to choose which moments we make significant: That time your boyfriend broke up with you because you drink too much? Or that time a taxi cab driver helped you climb into your living room window? 

I can never feel sorry for myself for long, 

this world is such a big, big, beautiful place. 
& I have so much love to give. 

Life is too short to be upset, to be angry.. to feel judged. 

Look around. 

It took someone else's life falling apart for me to realize mine was just coming together. 

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1