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Everything Happens for a Reason (and why everything’s always about me)

June 1, 2010

I have always believed that everything happens for a reason, even if that reason is simply someone (most likely me) making a bad decision. This past year, the last several weeks especially, have cemented that belief for me.

Last year, I fell ill and wound up being out on sick leave from work for four months. During that time, I joined Twitter and my sister introduced me to N.L. Gervasio, a writer who is now not only my best friend, but my roommate as well. (Oops! Spoiler alert…oh well)

I also started writing again. Due to work, my overall health and being in an abusive marriage, I had abandoned my writing for the most part. I still dabbled with a blog and poetry, but I could not find the inspiration or drive to dig into the novel I’d been trying to write for years. After devouring the entire Twilight Saga (I admit it, I was obsessed for a small period of time), I decided to try my hand at 1st Person and wrote a scene from Watchers. It flowed so well, I couldn’t stop writing. The only time I took a break from writing was for my myriad of doctor visits and staying up all night talking with my new friends on Twitter.

My perspective on life had been changing prior to this time, but the sudden influx of not being isolated and being able to be myself without looking over my shoulder kicked me out of the chrysalis stage in a hurry. I evaluated where my life was with new eyes and adjusted my priorities. The first one being to never stop writing again. The next was to get out of my marriage…preferably alive.

During this time, my dear friend N.L. had been working through her own struggles, the main one being out of work and in danger of losing her house. We started what became known as THE PLAN. Okay, so maybe I’m the only one who called it that AND capitalized it in my head, but still, THE PLAN was there. I would take over the work-at-home team at my job and then move in with N.L., all the while she was looking for work. There were several reincarnations of THE PLAN, but they all involved me moving out of this town in the dead of night by the skin of my teeth.

When it became clear that N.L. would not find a job before losing her house, we managed to find her a temporary place to stay with an extremely generous friend. Meanwhile, I was still trying to force things at work in order to get the promised work-at-home team. I’m not very good at being told no, especially by the universe and especially when it is contradictory to THE PLAN. Desperate to get me out of my situation, we changed THE PLAN to N.L. and I finding an apartment in the Phoenix area that was cheap. I figured I could swing driving 4 hours a day if it meant I was free from my abuser.

Things took a weird turn at home and I was able to split with the ex without involving the police–which meant I got to keep the apartment AND didn’t have to switch positions at work. It also meant that N.L. could just move in with me.

Now, I must admit that all throughout THE PLAN, there were times I was nervous about living with someone who was having such a hard time finding a job. I had just spent 12 years taking care of another adult who was more than happy to let me work while he sat a home most of the time and spent money on fast food and the latest internet shiny. Yet, I knew that N.L. wasn’t out of work because she chose to be. A mutual friend made a comment to her during our apartment searching that she had no business moving in with me without a job. All that did was piss me off and sell me on the idea even more. We were supposed to become roommates and help one another get on our feet. 2010 was going to be OUR YEAR.

So, I moved her in with me on May 8th.

The next week was rough as we were both exhausted from the move. Nausea became a constant companion to me, but I chalked it up to all the stress of starting the divorce process.

Then the pain hit. Stabbing. Twisting. Excruciating pain. Under my right ribcage.

I couldn’t eat. I could barely sleep. Standing up straight was difficult. I couldn’t work.

Yup, you guessed it. My sister’s evil gallbladder convinced mine to turn against me as well. For the next few weeks, N.L. took care of me. Drove me to the hospital for tests, for ER visits, went shopping for me, fed me broth and tried to keep me hydrated when I was too weak to even drink anything. She sat with me for hours in uncomfortable hospital chairs–even going so far as to brave frostbite in the freezer masquerading as a room during my 2-and-a-half-hour HIDA Scan–risking her own health as she has a compromised immune system and hospitals are not a good place for her. She was my emergency contact and spoke to the doctors about what was going on while I was sedated on several occasions. She called my family and my boyfriend to keep them apprised of whatever my current situation was.

Finally, when I had to have surgery, she took me back to the ER (45 minutes away), stayed with me until after they admitted me, came back the next day to sit with me a bit after my surgery and then drove back the following day to pick me up and take me home. She then ran out to the pharmacy and store to get my pain meds and food I could hopefully keep down.

Although, she did suffer a small casualty when the plastic dish of green Jell-O she snagged off my lunch tray at the hospital flew out of my bag in the backseat and opened up on the floorboard when she hit the brakes while taking me home from surgery. Now I really owe her a Frappuccino (mocha, double-blended, no whip in case you wanted to get her one too).

Obviously, she’s an amazing friend and roommate–she even changed the cat litter for me last night–but my point in this is to state that she was meant to move in with me. She was meant to not have a job during this time. I have no one here in town who could have done all of this for me, but she moved in at the perfect time with the perfect open schedule. Not to mention with the ex not spending all my money, I can afford to pay my bills.

So, when you look at situations and grow impatient either with your own situation or move to judge another’s, just remember you don’t have the full picture. Patience really can be a virtue, no matter how annoying it is. I have been learning to follow what feels peaceful, and I hit the jackpot this time.

Everything happens for a reason, and it somehow seems to work out for me, so just keep that in mind.

Oh, and I probably should have warned up front that this post was written under the influence of copious amounts of Morphine and Vicodin.

7 Comments leave one →
  1. June 1, 2010 10:48 pm

    A friend of mine just emailed me one of your articles from a while back. I read that one a few more. Really enjoy your blog. Thanks

  2. Shawna permalink
    June 1, 2010 10:54 pm

    For having copious amounts of Morphine and Vicodin in your system, you sound very lucid.

    Serious now.

    I am so happy she was there for you and that you are there for each other.

    Get better soon kitty cat. I miss you!

  3. June 1, 2010 10:55 pm

    I found your blog on google and read a few of your other posts. I just added you to my Google News Reader. Keep up the good work. Look forward to reading more from you in the future.

  4. June 1, 2010 10:57 pm

    What a sweet, uplifting story. I’ve been following the both of you for several months on Twitter and have found you guys to be a source of inspiration to get started on my own writing.

    Best wishes to you!

  5. NL Gervasio permalink
    June 2, 2010 1:32 pm

    Thanks, I’m crying now, but I do agree that everything happens for a reason. Some people can’t handle change. I embrace it. Some can’t handle the idea that they’re not in control of the universe. I just shake my fist and scream at the universe. She hasn’t been very nice to me in a good long time, but if I look a little closer … yep, there it is … as bad as it may look on the outside, there’s a diamond sitting amidst the coal because everything happens for a reason.

    THE PLAN is well-known for changing on a whim, such as THE PLAN to move Umi, and the various PLANs that followed.

    Now, would you please start writing again so I don’t have to look horrible when I kick you in the butt right after you’ve had surgery. =p

    Love you, girl!

  6. June 16, 2010 4:08 am

    My daughter was laughing when reading this line on your post “… to get me out of my situation, we changed THE PLAN to N.L. and I finding an apartment in …” it gets me to feel more intelligent after understanding it.


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