Wednesday, November 22, 2017

The End

I am 15.

The boy I "babysit" is 14 and a freshman in my high school. As he hops in the car on our drive home he tells me about a girl he has a massive crush on.

She's one of the few Korean girls at our school and though she is not in my year, I somehow know of her, just like you would know about a celebrity. She has long gleaming hair, flawless skin, and the one thing I latch on to, she is extremely thin.

In that nanosecond of recognition, the Belief locks into place.

From that moment on, I can trace the rest of my youth, a map of anorexia and deprivation. Hours on the treadmill. Exacting calorie counting. The relief of binging that turns into horror as you become simultaneously stuffed and more empty than ever.

I am 21.

I have just graduated from college with no plans for my life.

I am howling with despair and numb with detachment.

I think I am an adult and I am finally free. But the price of freedom is depression and a loneliness so deep I don't even have a name for it. It's just a nimbostratus cloud that never lifts.

I consider taking antidepressant medication. I have no money for health insurance. I consider taking it anyway. I talk to a lay counselor about it. She is in her early 60's and invites me into her home. We sit in her living room and she tells me how her life changed when she took the medicine. How she used to spend countless days in this very living room, curtains drawn, a perpetual dusk. I consider what it would be like to live in a world of warm tones.

I decide that I am a sad person. I have never not been a sad person. And I don't want to not be me.

I am 25.

I am married.

I am going to start law school.

I have a direction, a plan, finally, for how I will become a real adult.

But I am running out of time. Because as all 20-somethings know, life ends at 30.

There is a cliff after which nothing you do matters; you are obsolete and irrelevant. You are un-youthful and un-attractive. You are un-desirable and un-cool. You are over. You are done.

You are old.

And that cliff is called 30.

I am 29.

Two months before I fall off the Cliff, I decide, my life is over anyway. I might as well have a baby.

Despite being married for 7 years, the idea of having a baby never appealed to me.

But the spouse wanted one. And I knew it would sanctify and edify me, round out my understanding of God as a cosmic parent. If there is any Good in life, it must be found near the heart of God.

I knew having children would be the beginning of the end. And I was at the end anyway.

I am 30.

I have a baby.

I am shattered. My routines are gone. My ability to control and plan my life are gone. My old comforts are gone. My self-determination and self-reliance are gone.

I have no energy to put up with any bullshit except the baby's bullshit. As a result, lifelong relationships fall to the wayside, as I'm not holding up my end of the bargain anymore.

I do my best to keep the baby healthy and above all, secure.

I realize I don't know the first thing about how to raise a secure human being.

I realize I am the epitome of an insecure human being.

I am so out of my depths.

I am 37.

It is today.

I have been over the 30-cliff for 7 years now. For 7 years I have been irrelevant, uncool, and as good as dead to the world.

And to my surprise, I am still alive.

To my surprise, I am not sad anymore.

To my surprise, I have let go of the Belief. I can forgive myself for not looking perfect. In fact, I can even feel gratitude.

My worst fear--that I am not independent, not wholly self-reliant, not an island, impermeable to chaos--is now completely realized. And yet, it is okay.

In truth, I am more alive than ever.

To my surprise, at the end of something, there has always been more.

Incredulously, there is more.

And there was no way to discover it without coming to the end.

And so I am no longer afraid of the end.

Because at the end,

there is a Beginning.



***epilogue***

Thank you kind readers who have graciously walked with me through so many years of blogging. It's finally time to say goodbye! I'll be taking this site down in a few months (3? 4?) and hoping my kids never see the dark struggles I had as a mother until they're old enough to understand how much I love them despite abhorring motherhood. May you all find the joy and freedom that can only be had on the other side.

10 comments:

Kindra said...

I will miss your blog! But, I understand. To wonderful Beginnings!

Anonymous said...

Love you so much! You gave me hope when I would read your blog, encouragement when I was low. And the understanding that is ok to be sad. I'm going to miss your blog, but I just look forward to the day I get to see you in person and discuss what wonderful adventures your family and you have! <3 Noel

Hunter_H said...

I am tearing up as I read this and watch out for my toddler playing with his toys. I will miss your voice. Wishing you and yours the best.

xtinehlee said...

ohman. what a wonderful ending. going to miss you.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for sharing with us over the years. Thank you for being honest about what motherhood has really been like for you and sharing about the many different and conflicted feelings one can have at the same time and it's okay. I will miss reading your blog!

Tammy said...

Beautiful last blog post. I will miss your blog tremendously, but will take this as a wake up call to miss actual you less (more emails coming your way, my friend). This blog is a gift to your boys. When they get older and read it, they can start to understand what an amazing woman their mama is.

-Tammy

Prakash said...

You are a talented writer, Christina. Congratulations on weathering the storms of parenthood and sharing your raw emotions with so many. I wish that you continue to grow "more alive than ever." All the best!

CM said...

What a powerful post. I mostly read when you were struggling with being a mother of young children and I'm glad you've found some peace in the years since.

Megan said...

Christina, Sarah Zylstra gave me your name. I'd like to talk to you about a writers' workshop being held at TGC. Would you send me an email (mevanshill@gmail.com) or message me on Twitter (@mevanshill) so I can tell you more? Thanks. Megan Hill

Unknown said...

I’ve never met you but I feel like I know you from reading your amazing blog. I was given the link to it by your mother-in-law several years ago. She is one of my mom’s best friends. Michael and I were actually childhood playmates, though I don’t know if he’d remember me. I just wanted to thank you for being so honest about how hard it is to do this whole mothering business. And for helping me realize it’s okay to say I sometimes want to chuck my kids out the window. I’ve laughed with you and cried. I wish you and your family joy and happiness (and health, with this crazy weather). I’m sad to see your blog go but happy you’re off to new adventures. All the best.

Susie