A note to the reader-
The thoughts and words came so fast that I attempted to pull over and use iPhones talk to text feature. She could not keep up. She could not understand. And so, I tossed my soul out in a parking lot, via the tiny keyboard. I humbly ask for your forgiveness in regards to all things grammatical.
My life is so unlivable.
It is the unlivable life.
I don’t mean as in, “I can no longer stand to live my life.”
But, as in, I can no longer stand a life left unlived. Even spellcheck cannot recognize the word. It underlines it in red as if to say, that is incorrect. That word cannot be. As if to say, those two words cannot be joined. There can be no “unliving”. Curiously…poignantly-it stresses to replace the word “unliving”, with unloving. Sitting here, I do not find this a coincidence, but a direct statement from God. It’s as if he is saying, “You’re correct. You have an unlivable life. And it is also correct, you can no longer go unliving it. To do so would be unloving.”
It seems somewhat apparent now that all the hours I have spent crying to God, begging God, angrily yelling at God to give me that which I most desire-the life I want to live-that this thought, slash reprieve, slash demand- has been granted me within its truth. There have been cliches and quotes and quips about such things clenched, being more painful than things opening….books full of advice that leave my head nodding in agreement, “mmmmhmmmm, I get that!” But that have left my heart and my soul saying, “No. No you don’t.” Sadly watching as I return to my unlivable life, with my fists still clenched in some sort of unnameable rebellion against all things that are great and ugly and broken and whole within me.
Before I pulled over to write this, in the high school parking lot, I was driving down the road after completing the every day task (it bothers me that I call it a task) of taking my daughter to work, and all I could think was, I just want to live my life. I just want to live. I don’t want to do one more thing that doesn’t in some way benefit my life and make it better. And then I thought, I have an unlivable life. So unlivable as a matter of fact, that I find driving my daughter to work a menial and daunting, unwanted, task. A life so unlivable that I no longer know how to live in the moment filled with the presence of my daughter, or how to be grateful for it. A life based on how others lived before me and the story that says I must live that way too. A life lived in defiance of how others think I should live now- others that cannot, have not, will not, be bothered with my life at all. A life ruled by the voices in my head, who probably never belonged to anyone I’ve ever known. And those voices in unison singing out in a testament to my unlived life. A life unable to teach a daughter how to live. A life unlived as a “not good enough” mother because I never took the time to live into the “good enough” mother that I am.
A life unlived within the passing of life.
How do I want to live?