you stay alive.

Remember when I was all, Oh look, guys, I’m so much better. I’m telling jokes! and would you like me to get out my sparkly red tap shoes and do a dance too? Cause I have them!

The sad part is, I really do have them. But I am not a good enough tapper to ever wear them. It’s like that. I can wear loud, attention-drawing things while doing the forms of dance in which I am strong; I’ll wear garb that says, Hey! look at meeeeee! But when it comes to tap, I need to wear things that say, Hey! Look over there! So yeah, the only time I ever wore those red sparkly tap shoes was when I got a nice check for it. And please, if any of you are great tappers and happen to be a size 8 or so, you can have them. Seriously.

But I was asking you: remember when I felt good and almost happy-ish? And then you guys were all like, Whoa! You’re so good at healing! and Wow. Maybe thislifeinwriting.com will be…dare we say it? happier again! And then I was all, Actually, I am healing, but tonight I’m really sad…Or rather, that’s where this post comes in.

Because it’s true: tonight is a sad one for me. Maybe that’s good. Or maybe–like a lot else in my life, lately–it’s just plain weird. And maybe I just need to cry and listen to Comfort by Deb Talon over and over again. And by maybe I mean: that’s what I’m doing.

See, I really don’t know what to say when people tell me I am amazing. Or strong. Or a good person.

Because the truth is that I’m just…still here.

Are the people in Iraq who get bombs dropped on them by American planes amazing just cause they are still alive?

Because that’s what I am: still alive. And that was my one major goal the first month after the bomb was dropped on me. Every day, I just needed to make sure I was still alive.

A little while ago I was hiking in Fair Hill, feeling pretty peaceful about life. Liking the way that the sky hung over me in a shade of blue that was tremendous. Feeling okay with the melting snow, happy for the way that it indicated a new season. And then, unbidden, I suddenly remembered a movie that I saw a very long time ago. And not the whole movie, but one particular scene in the movie.

There’s this scene in The Last of the Mohicans where the two white women get captured by the hostile native Americans. One of the women’s love interest, the Daniel Day Lewis character, is just about to escape, but before he does he grabs the woman he loves. He tells her over and over again, You stay alive! I will be back for you! You stay alive! And makes her promise that she will not die before he can rescue her.

And suddenly she has one job: to survive. Because things will not always be this bleak. Because somebody loves her and will rescue her. Because her life has worth and meaning and she should not throw it away just because it looks like the worst thing has now happened.

And I saw that scene in my mind and started to cry. And it was strange, because I hadn’t been sad until that moment. It was like seeing a patch of snow in the middle of July. The emotion came out of nowhere, and the strength and suddenness of it was shocking.

Because the one person who should have been shaking my shoulders, telling me to stay alive! that day back in November, was gone. Silent. And the contrast from that movie and my life is so ugly. So pitiful. Wordless, almost. Though, God knows I try.

But then I thought about how other people stepped in. And they have been the ones to tell me to stay alive! And in no less moving ways than Daniel Day Lewis did. And that made me cry even more, I guess. Because I am humbled that such amazing people would see worth in me and implore me to stay alive. At all costs. Would remind me, over  and over again, that it will not always be this way.

And in a very real way, they’ve rescued me.

But I’m still sad tonight. Because that scene, it’s a lot. And what’s happened, it’s a lot. And the fact that the one who should have yelled at me to stay alive! barely said a word at all, well that does leave some kind of mark, right?

But the fact that there are others–the best people I know–who stepped in. Grabbed my shoulders and yelled at me to stay alive! that leaves a mark, too.

And that’s the mark I’m gonna put my money on. That’s the one that will still be there this time next year. Obvious. Beautiful. Love.