The other day one of my friends asked me if I knew that my purse had black marks across the back of it. I turned my purse around and saw about three long, arching dark marks from one side of my purse to the other side. "Yeah, I know", I said blithely ".... "been there for awhile, just haven't cleaned it yet".
Now I know this sounds like no big deal. But I went home and obsessed over this 10 second conversation. It started me thinking. I knew what the marks were and how they got there. I even knew when they got there, almost to the day. I went to the top shelf of my closet where I keep my collection of handbags, all bought second hand at either the DAV, Junior League or EBAY. I love every one of them and I have always taken great care of them. But almost all my purses had the same mark across the backs of them as my "pink" one. I've known the marks were there, but I would use them and ignore the marks. But why? I really didn't know. I'm not even close to lazy. The marks could easily be removed. I didn't really know why I hadn't done anything about them, so I decided to figure it out.
I meditate almost every morning. During meditation when everything was shut out and my mind was clear, the answers started coming to me. My son Bret died 22 years ago at 4 months old, crib death (1984). My son Chris was found clinically dead in our pool, he survived and was my (first) miracle child (1987). My nearly 21 year old son Adam committed suicide in 2002. Two weeks later my daughter Meagan was in a car accident and not expected to live. After a 2 1/2 month coma, 7 months hospitalization followed by 4 years of heavy rehab - she defied the odds, my second miracle child.
I have very little, almost nothing to remember Bret or Adam. After so many moves and poor planning on my part I have no personal items of Bret's. Adam lived in an apartment owned his father. Adams father kept all of Adams belongings, giving nothing to Chris, Meagan or myself. I've experienced the loss of two children and the near loss of the other two. At least twice a week I have dreams about Meagan and Chris dying. Every time I kiss them goodbye I wonder if I will see them again.
Okay, I've taken psychology classes too. I know what all this means........ And I'm working on it. But I didn't "Connect the Psychological Dots" until now.
The marks are from my daughters wheelchair. This I knew. What I didn't know until now was that it was a wierd sort of collection of memories. I was, or am, hoarding anything that has a remote connection to my children. I keep every single note. I mean ANYTHING. Little scraps with their handwriting on it are precious to me. Clothes that they can't wear are not given away, but kept in a box in my closet. Movie tickets, event stubs, the little slip of paper that shows what time Chris clocked in and out of work. Get the idea. The "wheelchair marks" on my purses each represented a memory to me, a connection to Meagan. I have been doing all this subconsciously. I've been so afraid that one day they will be gone and all I will have is what I've collected. All this ....done out of Fear.
It was an epiphany.
My purses are now clean and I try everyday to let fear go....all fear. Fear keeps us prisoner. I want nothing to ever control me, not a substance, not a person, not fear.
