Welcome to Happy Hour at Reed My Writing. My name is J.R. and this is my place. Thursday is my day off and I’m bringing in some great guest post-tenders to run the place in my absence. Each month there is a new theme and I let the post-tender concoct something amazing to serve you, my wonderful guests.
I only have two rules here. Fun is to be had by all and please don’t urinate in the parking lot. I’m speaking to the ladies as well as the dudes.
Today’s guest post-tender is Lauren Hale who I know from Sprocket Ink where we both contribute. When I asked her to do this and told her the theme for May would be May Flowers, Lauren asked if it had to be funny. I told her to take the theme and run with it however the force instructed her to. Or something like that. This is what she came up with.
For many, it’s the harbinger of necessitating a change of plans, cancelled events, disappointment.
For me, it’s my life-blood.
I grew up near the ocean. Water is an incredible part of my soul. Humans are mostly comprised of water, but I tip the scales, I think. I run in the rain. I smile as the drops fall from the sky and infuse into my skin. Rain carries with it a message from far off places. It is one of the many ways in which we are all connected to each other.
Two Wednesdays ago, it rained. I decided to take a walk out to the boat house as the rain poured down from the clouds floating overhead. I walked slowly and deliberately, without shoes. My feet sank into the wet grass and squished into the mud beneath. I watched the rain creating tiny concentric circles as it fell onto the lake.
I continued my walk to the boat house, my hair and clothes gathering rain along the way. I walked up the hill, my feet covered in tiny pieces of wood, specks of mud, and grass. The rain fell harder as I stepped onto the deck. Lifting my face to the sky, I held my arms wide and let the rain pour down on me, streaming down my face and my body.
I exhaled. I let go.
For so long, I’ve held on to so much.
To my postpartum depression experiences.
To the fear of not being accepted by others.
To losing so many family members as a child.
To being teased mercilessly as a child.
To being sexually harassed as a teenager.
I have a long way to go. I won’t always know the answers to everything. I won’t always be okay. I will cry. I will hurt. But in the end, that’s okay. I am okay with wherever life takes me. I know I am not in control. I never was in control. I never will be in control.
I walked slowly back to the house as the rain continued to fall. On the way back, I noticed a spat of daisies at the edge of the forest. I bent to pick a handful of them, still covered in rain drops. I carried them back to the house and put them in a small paper cup, a reminder of my journey through the rain.
A reminder of finally letting go….exhaling.
Bio: Addicted to bacon and chocolate, Lauren Hale spends most of her time as an advocate for families struggling with Postpartum Mood Disorders. You can find her on Twitter, at On the Air, and at her blog, My Postpartum Voice.