We are settling in for the cold season that always arrives around this time. But this winter will be a bit different than any previous.
I head into this winter a different person than I was heading into last year’s. Last year, Michelle had just given birth to Liam, and we were doing our best to stay strong while he battled to stay alive. We comforted each other. We reassured each other that he would be all right — that he would survive, and so would we.
He did. But we almost didn’t.
This past summer and autumn have felt like one long winter. Everything was cold. My heart was numb. The beauty of the world — of my world — was covered in ice, and I refused to scrape it away. Remembering back to the winter before it, I cannot believe what I almost lost. But that is not what this entry is about.
[Note: I have written an entry that delves into my own inner battles, and perhaps one day I will actually publish it. For now, it sits in my Drafts folder, waiting for a brave moment that will more than likely never come.]
I am out of the woods forever. They no longer hold any appeal for me.
This is my message of triumph, my chance to wave the proper banner. It is a moment that, were fate a fair and honest judge of a man’s actions, should have passed me by without so much as a second’s hesitation.
But it didn’t. And I have her to thank for that.
This is where I am now. My home is my home; I no longer find myself mentally wandering. I have no reason to escape anymore. I have been confronted with my own selfish nature, and I aim to combat it. My childish tendencies have been made clear to me by circumstance, and I am ashamed of how I acted. I was not myself. I don’t even recognize the man I have been during these past few months. All I can say now is that he is gone forever. And good riddance at that.
Back in September, I wrote a song about the beginnings of this time. Entitled “Let Me Go,” it covered many different aspects of the situation from various viewpoints. The following lyrics were one of the last additions to the song, part of a bridge that comes after the second verse:
Be thou my vision, lend me your might
Give me a reason to stand up and fight.
Thankfully, someone listened and gave me a reason. It was one that had always been there; it had just gone largely unnoticed for far too long.
Now begins the process of starting anew, of searching for a new home and a new path. It is both exciting and terrifying at the same time, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Change is something I have feared practically my entire life. It’s about time I embraced it and what it could mean for my family … and for me.
Wish us luck.