There is a fine line between fear and excitement.

Take my morbid fascination with horror flicks, for example. I love the chills and thrills that quicken my pulse, but hate the nightmares threatening my sanity long after the credits stop rolling. Yet I continue to be a glutton for punishment, getting my kicks by watching these cinematic scare tactics through a veil of webbed fingers while resigning myself to a foreseeable future of sleeping with the lights on.

Fear. Suspense. Hair-raising pricklies and spine-tingling pandemonium. It’s all par for the course and part of the fun. And let’s not forget those ghoulish, flesh-eating, ax-wielding scene-stealers. The proverbial Preceptors of Doom and Provokers of Death. They have a way of permeating our intrinsic, even-keeled dispositions until we are literally one blood-curdling scream away from soiling ourselves.

Ghosts
Demonic spirts
Poltergeists
Zombies
Boogiemen
Past lovers

Hold up. Huh?

Hear me out.

Early in my adulthood, I took my first crack at a “steady” relationship with a guy we’ll call Keith. Admittedly, I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, and I fought my budding feelings, tooth and nail. “You can’t hurt me. I won’t let you” were the words I had actually uttered to Keith in a moment of affection rebellion—a pitiful attempt at self-preservation when I felt myself slipping into that vulnerable space where brains stop functioning and hearts reign supreme.

In other words, I was scared out of my wits.

We were good friends who sometimes kissed and held hands and succumbed to bouts of intense spooning. No need to make an over romanticized production out of it. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Oh, what I fool I was.

Two years later, I was indubitably head-over-heels in love, having taken up permanent residence on Cloud Nine. Keith and I spoke of marriage. We were deliriously happy. Or so I thought. Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, I found myself on the receiving end of his litany of excuses, a string of break-up lines fired off in rapid succession, beginning with the ever popular “It’s not you, it’s me” (which we all know is codespeak for, “I don’t love you anymore, so do me a solid and take a permanent hike out of my life.”).

Needless to say, I was devastated—an emotional basket case and dispenser for the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. I felt used, ugly, and unwanted. I prayed to the gods of dating karma, hoping they’d take pity on me while commanding the Earth to open up and swallow me whole, putting me out of my misery.

Yes, I’m being dramatic, and justifiably so—because amid such an experience, a real-life horror show takes shape—a relationship massacre, so to speak. Not only is it downright terrifying, but it hurts like hell.

When someone we love leaves us behind, we immediately embark on new journeys we didn’t intend to take.

As we trudge through the aftermath of our failed relationships, we dissect the remains and wonder where it all went wrong. It takes time for the grief to settle enough for us to grit through the pain as we begin to think that maybe…just maybe…everything will be okay.

Eventually, with a little help from our friends and Haagen-Dazs Rocky Road, we move on. Though sometimes, it’s not that simple.

The ghosts of past relationships have a twisted sense of humor, and they enjoy haunting us, looming large over our psyches while threatening to sabotage every future relationship we dare to dip our toes into.

When I finally reentered the dating pool, I was more of a wet blanket than an active participant. I started seeing a kind man—we’ll call him Pat—and our relationship chugged along for nearly six months before he finally cut his losses and kicked me to the curb. The saddest part was that I barely batted an eyelash after the fallout. My walls had gone up the moment we met, an emotionally impenetrable steel trap erected around Keith’s memory, holding it in protective lockdown where the spirit of my best self could live on.

Such a shame. Pat was a great guy. Smart. Funny. Handsome. We shared a palpable chemistry and were insanely compatible. The breakup should have hit me with the brutality of a belly flop gone horribly wrong. Instead, I remained comfortably numb in the shallow calm of my own denial.

So, what happened to being vulnerable? Why couldn’t I get with the freaking program?

The short answer?

Hearts are stubborn and fearful.

The longer answer?

More often than not, hearts remain fiercely loyal to the ghosts of past relationships, with ill regard of consequence. That’s because when we exchange a deep love with another person, it becomes unconditional, a bond so powerful that a breakup alone can’t squash it.

I remember my thought process after Keith sent me packing. Until that point, he had been the love of my life, and I couldn’t fathom ever replicating the same connection with another man. Instead of opening myself to the possibility of falling in love again, I shifted gears, resolving to be comfortably noncommittal.

Eventually, my warped sense of logic got the better of me, and I grew terribly lonely. After spending an inordinate amount of time in relationship limbo, I realized that my past with Keith had become more than just a memory I couldn’t let go of.

It was the symptomatic corpse burdening my soul.

With a fresh supply of determination coursing through my veins, I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and performed my first exorcism. It was fairly anticlimactic, devoid of blood, guts, or spinning heads. Yet it was undeniably effective.

If you, too, have been trapped under a mountain of baggage fashioned from ghosts, here are several ways to lighten your load and surrender all that dead weight…

Stop torturing yourself.

There’s no gentle way to say this. If you keep harping on your ex, he wins. Simple as that. Your inner sadist may prompt you to monitor his social media activity, “accidentally” run into him at his favorite hangouts, or drive by his house 50 times a day because you just “happened” to be in the neighborhood. But it’s best to resist those urges. If he catches you, trust me, he’ll be less than impressed and you’ll possibly earn a stalker reputation. He chose a life without you, regardless of how jilted you feel. So, you need to let him live it.

Toss out the mementos.

That ultra-comfy T-shirt he gifted you right off his back when he caught you admiring it—the one that smells like him—the one you still sleep in every night? Get rid of it. All those handwritten letters professing his undying love? Burn them. That goes for photos too. Sounds harsh, I know, but if you truly want to live in the present, you must first extract the keepsakes that keep you steeped in history.

Visualize.

What qualities do you look for in a partner? As you consider these traits, let your mind wander until it produces a clear visualization of your ideal mate. Mentally register each feature, mannerism, facial expression, muscle flexion, and lilt of vocal resonance. Then imagine interacting with this new love interest—flirting, laughing, trading anecdotes and smiles. Successful visualization can be a powerful tool for attracting what you want into your life. At the very least, it’ll shift your focus away from Whatshisface.

Get out there.

Enough with the sadness and isolation. It’s time to infuse all that gray with some light and color. Gussy yourself up, leave the house, and become reacquainted with the land of the living. Make plans with friends. Take an art class. Join a gym. Find new passions or rediscover old ones. Being proactive and dedicating time to the things you enjoy puts you back in the driver’s seat and the skeletons back in the closet where they belong.

Ditch the third wheel.

Speaking of skeletons, if you meet someone new and ignite a spark, don’t invite Bones along for a threesome. Comparing every potential love interest to an old relationship you’ve idealized in your head is unhealthy and counterproductive. Dating is supposed to be about having fun. Don’t ruin it by stressing about the future. Feeling scared or ambivalent is normal, but it’s important to stop looking at every new encounter as a failed relationship in the making.

Have faith.

Your ex is not the end-all and be-all. It may seem that way, especially when the wounds are still fresh, but you will love again, and on a deeper level than ever before. When you find “The One,” you’ll know irrefutably that your ex’s decision to end things was actually a blessing in disguise. I knew it the moment I met my husband, and still do all these years later.

~ ~ ~

Getting hurt is damaging and surviving loss is difficult. But in coming to terms with our fears, we can expel our inner demons, get out from behind those emotionally closed doors, and invite in the possibility of love. And with possibility comes the probability of a fulfilling, lasting relationship in the future.

Copyright © S. A. Healey

The post Exorcising the Ghosts of Past Relationships first appeared on S A Healey.

You shouldn’t have to work at love. If you do, then it isn’t love.

For months, I’ve seen sentiments similar to this one making the rounds on social media. And while proponents of such notions are certainly entitled to their opinions, I gotta say, I think it’s total bull. Yet at the same time, I get a sense of where these thoughts might originate.

Monotony.

Let’s consider the following scenario…

The alarm clock goes off at 5:30 AM. You feed the dog, let her out to do her business, brew some coffee, and then jump in the shower, all before you’ve even rubbed the sleepies out of your eyes. Once buffed and coiffed, you wake up the kids, cook them breakfast, pack their lunches, and put them on the school bus just in time for you to begin your morning commute to work. After putting in 10 hours at the office, you speed like a NASCAR driver in order to get to the daycare center before it closes. From there you burn rubber to a soccer match your kids were supposed to be at 20 minutes earlier. Your spouse, also fresh from work, meets you on the field, and you grunt your hellos before being sucked into conversations with other parents flanking you on the sidelines. Once the game’s over, you pull out your cell phone, order a pizza, pick it up on the way home, and then scarf it down in the car because that clock is tick tick ticking. When you finally swing into your driveway, you tip your head in acknowledgement of your spouse, who just pulled in behind you and also caught dinner on the fly. Together, you all walk into the house and the bedtime routine commences. By the time your kids are tucked in, all snug as bugs in rugs, you’re about ready for a visit from the Sand Man yourself. But just as you nod off to dreamland, you suddenly snap to attention, quickly shifting into full-on panic mode as you recall your promise to contribute something decadent to the school bake sale. You bolt to the kitchen and proceed to whip up enough double fudge brownies to feed a small army, while your spouse begins the first of two loads of laundry he must finish before his head hits the pillow.

So where’s the romance? Where’s the love?

It’s there. It just needs a little resuscitation.

Allow yourself to think back for a moment. Do you remember that time? When love was shiny, new, and euphoric? When you and your partner were consumed by the depths of your feelings for each other? When a mere kiss would make your head spin? When your passion was off the charts, all hands and lips and skin on skin? When everything you saw in each other was beautiful and perfect? When you shared your dreams and cultivated new ones together?

I sure do. God, those were some good times. I lived in my own utopia. I was free. I was uninhibited. I was energy. I was alive.

So, what happened?

The daily grind. The passing of time. The tedium of it all. LIFE.

Things don’t change overnight. The process is so gradual that we usually don’t recognize what’s happening until years later when we swim in feelings of nostalgia, reflecting back on our youth while longing for the spontaneity, creativity, and excitability that used to live inside us. The good thing is that in doing so, we unearth our most precious memories of budding love, endless passion, and life without limits.

And it’s in the remembering that we can begin to do the work to get some of that back.

True love—the kind that lasts forever —still flourishes in moments of magic, but it also takes work, compromise, respect, and understanding to keep its engine running. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. This kind of love is not found in the fall. The fall is infatuation. The fall is chemistry. The fall is novelty.

It’s what happens after those initial punch-drunk moments of courtship that determines a relationship’s longevity. Because that’s when we let our guards down and allow our true selves to come to light.

When love is new, we view our partners through rose colored glasses. We overlook their quirks and bad habits. We turn a blind eye when they have food stuck in their teeth. We find charm in their tendency to leave their dirty laundry on the bathroom floor. But as routines take over and life evolves into predictability, the glasses come off and every unsavory detail becomes magnified. As a result, the mere sight of a single unlaundered sock can compel even the most rational person to open up a can of whoop ass.

It’s not a blame game. It’s simply a very normal part of what many of us as couples go through as we navigate this topsy-turvy journey of life and love. Anyone who’s ever been in a relationship for any length of time knows that the demise of the so-called “honeymoon phase” is inevitable. As we grow older, take on more responsibilities, and experience heightened levels of stress, the passion-induced euphoria we once reveled in goes poof.

So what do we do about it? Throw in the towel? Assume the love is gone?

Hell. No.

It’s tempting to subscribe to the ill-conceived notion that love can only be experienced in shades of grandeur and hypnotic wonderment, where the passion fruit grows freely and the nights are filled with shooting stars scribbling sweet nothings across the sky in shimmer dust. But that’s not real life.

And if you expect love to feel like that all the time, you’re not only setting yourself up for disappointment, you’re robbing yourself of the many gifts that come from stick-to-itiveness, tenderness, and commitment.

We are human beings, and as such, we are imperfect creatures. There are moments of magic, and moments when we lose our way. There are moments of elation, and moments when we unwittingly become byproducts of life in these modern times, where technical advances and ’round-the-clock accessibility lump us in with a society of “doers.” Sometimes we forget that it’s okay to catch our breaths and experience the joy of simply existing.

We never intend to make the ones we love feel like afterthoughts. But it happens. And it doesn’t mean we love them any less. But the truth is that sometimes we forget to show it.

Daily obligations and even trivial tasks can feel insurmountable at times, replenishing themselves with unfathomable speed. Instead of fueling that fire that used to burn in our bellies—that compulsion to live in the moment and love with every fiber—we bury those impulses under fatigue and depletion, setting our sights on simply making it through the day.

Before we realize it, we’re riding that wave of monotony. Sometimes, we ride it for so long that it becomes a strange source of comfort. That’s a dangerous slipstream to head down because then we risk submerging whole parts of ourselves from the other. And when that happens, we begin to feel suffocated. But you know what? It doesn’t have to be that way.

Love isn’t going to sustain itself if we don’t nourish it. Love and effort go hand in hand. I’ll say it again: Love takes work.

And I’m not suggesting adding a gazillion more items to your seemingly endless list of to-dos. But if you’re in a relationship and you find yourself at an impasse, weighted down by the daily routine or stuck in the doldrums of mediocrity, then do yourself a favor.

Open the lines of communication with your partner.

Now, I’m not talking about staying in an abusive situation or keeping a relationship chugging along that has truly run its course. That’s different. I’m referring to reestablishing that connection with the one person you can’t imagine living your life without.

Once you recognize the ruts you’ve slipped into as a couple, you can begin to make small changes to pull yourselves out while embarking on a journey of self-discovery together. Reminisce. Look at old photos. Watch your wedding video. Transport yourselves back to a time when your hearts swelled with fervent love and you were passion personified. Do some soul-searching. Talk things out. As a result, not only will you begin to experience some of the magic that made you fall in love in the first place, but you’ll love each other on a deeper level than ever before. Because you’ve got history. And there is romance within those ancient halls of shared memories. There are abandoned rooms that are just waiting for you to draw the curtains and let in the light.

So, what constitutes true love?

For me, it’s the look he gives me from across the room when he thinks I don’t notice. It’s the “I Love You” he writes in the steamed-up mirror for me to find when I get out of the shower. It’s the texts he sends me throughout the day, just to say he’s thinking of me. It’s the way we talk through our problems instead of letting them fester. It’s getting through arguments with a better understanding of where the other is coming from. It’s making date nights a priority again. It’s comparing notes about all the funny, silly, amazing things our kids said or did on a particular day. It’s not expecting the other to be flawless. It’s recognizing when the other needs space. It’s never going to bed angry. It’s admitting when we’re wrong and saying sorry.

I wouldn’t trade what I have now for what I had in the beginning for all the money in the world. The beginning was breaking ground…laying the foundation. The years that followed saw the walls go up, then the windows, doors, ceilings, and floors. We’ve built a home together. A life. And, yes, it took effort. And maybe it’s not perfect, but I think that’s the beauty of it. Perfection is overrated anyway.

So do the work and reap the rewards. Relive the magic. Feel the passion. Remember what it was like to fall head-over-heels and then show your partner how much you love and appreciate them.

Love doesn’t have to lay dormant. It is a splendid thing!

Copyright © S. A. Healey

The post Love and Effort: The Dynamic Duo first appeared on S A Healey.

Granted, by February my penchant for flip flops and beach-combing has me cursing winter’s frost with a teeth-chattering “damn you!” vehemence.

But, in December…

There is magic to be had.

Specifically, yuletide movie magic. The heart-swelling, tummy-tumbling, butterfly-inducing variety.

Of course, this doesn’t in any way diminish my overwhelming love for all things bookish. Still, holiday-themed romantic movies always manage to hit me right in the ol’ ticker. Between the elaborate sets, twinkling lights, pirouetting snowflakes, hearthside snuggles, hot cocoa mustaches, trees trimmed to ooh-aah perfection, and the lip locking powers of mistletoe…

I am in holiday hog heaven.

And if spending the twelve days of Christmas perched in front my DVR is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.

So, with that in mind, here are my…

5 Fave Films for Seasonal Swooning

(warning: may cause intense warm fuzzies)

5. Bridget Jones’s Diary

Swoon-worthy quote: “I like you very much just as you are.”

One word… Colin Firth. No wait, that’s two words. One name? No, that’s not right either. Oh, never mind. My brain is mush.

See? This is what Colin does to me. As soon as he graces the silver screen (or any screen for that matter), I am a puddle of goo on the spot. He’s got the brooding, respectable, good-guy routine down to a tantalizing T.

Oh, right. There are other people in the movie too. Renée Zellweger and Hugh Grant round out a well-crafted cast.

This film is a clever, hilarious, modern-day take on Pride and Prejudice. Does it resort to outrageous, cringe-worthy silliness at times? Yes. Is it terribly realistic? Not exactly. Yet, somehow, it all works with a certain je ne sais quoi, to the point where I’ve practically worn out my DVD from repeat viewings.

4. The Holiday

Swoon-worthy quote: “I suppose I think about love more than anyone really should. I am constantly amazed by its sheer power to alter and define our lives.”

As far as movie roles go, Kate Winslet sure knows how to pick ’em. I honestly can’t think of a single film she’s appeared in that I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed.

(Hums the score to Titanic)

Anywho, The Holiday is so undeniably charming that even my husband likes it (and he usually rolls his eyes while simultaneously blowing raspberries during “chick flicks”). It stars (along with Winslet) Cameron Diaz, Jude Law (those eyes!), and Jack Black—who is, to my pleasant surprise, utterly sweet and appealing here.

In a nutshell, the story follows two women in the thick of guy-problem suffrage, who swap homes (and countries) in order to clear their heads and, with a little luck, embark on journeys to healing.

From the get-go, you pretty much know how the story is going to end. But, trust me, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

3. Serendipity

Swoon-worthy quote: “Maybe we’re lying here because you don’t wanna be standing somewhere else.”

Fate. Does it really have the power to guide us toward the people we’re meant to be with? I believe it does. As a matter of fact, I know it does.

John Cusack (whom I’ve fawned over since The Sure Thing) and Kate Beckinsale (how adorable is she?) play Jonathan and Sara, who, despite obstacles of time and space, are unable to quell a mutual longing forged from a single, magnetic, chance encounter.

These would-be lovebirds are so wholesome and endearing that you can’t help but teeter on the edge of your seat, rooting for them every step of the way.
Passion vs. predictability. Which would you choose?

If you’re keen on uplifting, enchanting, seasonal whimsy, then this movie is right up your alley.

2. Love Actually

Swoon-worthy quote: “To me, you are perfect.”

Though touted by many as being the most romantic movie in the history of lovey-dovey cinema, I was initially skeptical. Not typically a fan of ensemble-cast, multiple storyline theatricals, I almost skipped this production altogether. But, then I remembered…

Colin Firth is in it.

Need I say more?

So I gave it a go and, holy swoonmuffins, was I ever glad I did!

This is holiday escapism at its finest, not to mention a prime example of movie-casting gold. Liam Neeson, Hugh Grant, Emma Thompson (love her!), the-man-can-do-no-wrong Firth, Laura Linney, Alan Rickman (RIP), Keira Knightly (on whom I have a slight girl crush), Rowan Atkinson, Bill Nightly, Martine McCutcheon, January Jones, Elisha Cuthbert, Billy Bob Thornton, Denise Richards, and Rodrigo Santoro all lend their acting chops, resulting in a cinematic experience for the ages.

If you are a hopeless romantic like me, you will love this movie with every fiber of your being. Prepare to run the full gamut of giggles, tears, full-bodied smiles, accelerated heartbeats, and dreamy sighs.

1. It’s a Wonderful Life

Swoon-worthy quote: “What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

Sigh. I love this movie so much.

When it comes to unforgettable, cinematic-romantic chemistry, Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed are in a class all their own.

Each time Jimmy appears on-screen as George Bailey, you feel his words and the breaths that propel them. You join him on his quest for the American dream, through all the highs and lows—joy, hope, despondence, and desperation.
I seriously cannot watch this movie enough, or without getting a lump in my throat. Maybe it’s because I’ve been where George has been. Maybe we all have.

But there is redemption.

And Mary.

She is his rock, his safe haven, his home … though he doesn’t always realize it.
Yet her love for him never wavers.

And when George finally alights upon an angel-guided epiphany…

Well, I don’t know a person alive who doesn’t feel compelled to reevaluate their own existence and count their blessings as a result.

***************

So there you have it. Do you agree with my list?

Honorable mentions go out to Miracle on 34th Street, Scrooged, While You Were Sleeping, and Happy Christmas.

With so many wonderful romantic holiday flicks to choose from, I’m sure you have your own favorites.

So nuke up some popcorn, hunker down for a yuletide movie marathon, and enjoy.

Copyright © S. A. Healey

The post My 5 Fave Films for Seasonal Swooning first appeared on S A Healey.

I LOVE YOU. It’s a phrase we adore saying when we feel it, but have you ever uttered it in haste? Or worse, to the tune of a nonresponse?

If so, then read on…

Let’s imagine you’re in a relationship with a guy whose name you’ve doodled in the margins of your notebook since your first year in high school. You’ve been going strong for ages with no signs of slowing down. You get along swimmingly, spend practically every waking moment together, and set off enough sparks to power a small city.

Together, you exist within your own bubble of poetic grandiosity. The birds are always singing. The flowers are in constant bloom. The air is free of pollutants. You walk on sunshine. The moon casts its spotlight just for you. It’s Valentine’s Day every day. You are a living, breathing Hallmark card.

But one day, you step out of la la land to detect a defining moment when things seem different, more serious. His touch becomes indubitably delicate, his kiss over-and-above sincere. An overwhelming surge of emotion washes over you, and you wonder if he feels it, too. He must, you rationalize. How could you feel this strongly and he not feel the same? It’s just not possible. Right?

Then the two of you share a look, and as you gaze upon the stars in his eyes, those three little words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them…

“I love you.”

You wait. Your heart races. Subconsciously, you’re already picking out china patterns and imagining a life filled with white picket fences and an army of mini-mes running around in the garden.

And then…

*Crickets*

Minutes pass like lifetimes until metaphorical tumbleweeds float by your feet. That magical, mutual exchange of sweet nothings and words of devotion, a scene you’ve concocted a gazillion times in your head, has turned into a disappearing act before your pleading eyes.

You suddenly realize you’ve made the granddaddy of all blunders. You dropped the L-Bomb and there’s no turning back.

To add insult to injury, your grand declaration of affection earns you a silence so deafening you can practically hear the glistening row of sweat beads as they break out along your partner’s hairline.

So you think fast, plastering on what you hope passes for a carefree smile before saying the first thing that comes to mind in an effort to diffuse the situation.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back.”

To which you receive this reply…

“Okay. Cool. I really like you, though.”

“Gee, THANKS,” you think to yourself.

So what next? Despite wanting to lock yourself in a closet for the rest of your life with a limitless supply of KitKats and Doritos to keep you company, you know that’s not an option. You must face the music.

Your partner isn’t going to speak the words you long to hear.

Does that make him or her a sorry excuse for a human being? Hardly. Though it will probably make you feel like crapola for a while. But chances are, you’ve been on the receiving end of an L-Bomb yourself a time or two. That’s all kinds of awkward for both parties involved, and when you’re the recipient, it serves as grounds for the rejection you’ll be forced to hand to a partner whose emotions carry an intensity that doesn’t match your own. Yet, it’s one of the many harsh realities of life.

I’ve dropped a few L-Bombs in my time. I’ve caught my share as well. There’s no denying that relationships can be tricky to navigate on a good day, and we simply don’t always know what the other is feeling, even when we think we do. What one will interpret as a lifelong merger, the other may see merely as something fun to take part in for right now. It doesn’t make anyone right or wrong. It just means we’re human and sometimes we feel different things.

Of course, dropping an L-Bomb doesn’t necessarily mean a relationship is doomed.

Perhaps the other just needs a little more time to figure out what he or she is feeling. Perfectly understandable. Perfectly normal.

Other times, it signals the beginning of the end, which has been the case with me on more than one occasion. One such time devastated me to where I thought it would be fun to torture my ears with The Cure’s “Love Song” for an entire weekend nonstop. It was “our song.”

If I never hear that song again, it’ll be too soon.

After having survived that experience, I swore up and down that I would never drop another L-Bomb. But you know what? A few years later, I did. Why? Because I loved him. I still do.

And life is too damn short not to tell people how you feel about them.

So is dropping an L-Bomb really a blunder after all? On the contrary. In fact, I believe that suppressing feelings could lead to deep-seated regret in the long run. I think it’s better to know exactly where you stand in a relationship, even if the outcome isn’t what you would have hoped for.

But I must admit that spending some serious quality time with a heaping mound of KitKats and Doritos does sound tempting.

Copyright © S. A. Healey

The post The L-Bomb Drop first appeared on S A Healey.

Her high-pitched, newborn battle cries were impressive, and I would have thought her distressed if not for her eyes, which told a different story. They locked with mine, peering through them like windows, finding the parts of me I had long kept tucked away. It didn’t seem possible that this brand new creation could see straight to the chasm where my dreams lay in waiting, but I felt it with each expansion of my heart. Those almond-shaped eyes held a kind of wisdom that would take me years to understand. This was not just any child. This was Elizabeth, my treasure beyond measure — a soulmate forever connected by blood and veins.

Hours after her birth, my husband and I were dumbfounded by a visit from Elizabeth’s pediatrician, who spoke to us about things like Down syndrome, Trisomy 21, mental retardation and delayed development. We were told she had a greater chance of developing leukemia and Alzheimer’s disease than the general population. We were advised to enroll her in early intervention, yet prepare ourselves for the possibility that she may never speak, read, write or attend a regular school. Descriptive phrases were tossed into the air, like low-toned, flat-nosed, short-necked, and protrusive-tongued. The rational part of me knew the doctor was merely doing his job, while the irrational part imagined screaming profanities in his face while enlightening him on the concept of bedside manner. But as my attention shifted from his moving lips to the bassinette-on-wheels stationed next to my bed, I couldn’t recognize this child he spoke of. Instead of an assemblage of defects, I saw a gift, a daughter, a product of love’s procreation — eyes full of wonder and a chest gloriously rising and falling with each tiny breath. I saw my own quiet countenance and my husband’s zest for life. I saw Heaven. I saw God.

I saw my best friend.

Elizabeth is fifteen now, a freshman in high school. She sings in the chorus. She swims. She bowls. She lives and breathes music and is somewhat obsessed with One Direction and Miley Cyrus. In many ways, she’s just like any other typical teen. And in other ways, she’s not.

Down syndrome is a label that will follow her around her entire life. And because it takes her longer to achieve certain milestones than most, she is considered a “special child” by society’s standards. Well, I have to agree. She certainly is special. And I’ll tell you why.

When she looks, she sees. When she listens, she hears, ingesting the words and much of what goes unspoken.

She is my kindred spirit.

Here is a person who never judges, admonishes, or has a negative word to say about anyone. She tells me, “I love you, Mom” without fail, every single day. She understands me in a way that most people twice her age can’t, while at the same time embracing my entirety, even the parts that aren’t always pretty. I’ve never known anyone so completely attuned to human emotion, and whenever I’m having a crappy day, she puts her arm around me and asks, “Are you okay?” When I cry, she cries too, internalizing my pain as if she’d rather take it on herself so I no longer have to.

Through the years, we’ve carved out our own special nook amid the hustle and bustle that monopolizes such a large chunk of life in these modern times. We take it slow. We observe nature. We listen to songs on repeat until we know the lyrics by heart. We cuddle. We hold hands. We share. We smile. We joke and laugh.

We love.

Elizabeth projects love in its purest form, and it rolls off her in waves until I’m soaked to the soul. When I experience this love, I cannot help but want to be a better person…someone more selfless, more patient. She fills me with confidence. She brings me clarity. She is my biggest cheerleader. Through her, I have learned that each day is a gift to be unwrapped with Christmas morning excitement — that everything I ever needed was always in front of me, right at my fingertips.

I have learned to see through her eyes, to witness the beauty in ordinary things — things many of us take for granted, like cotton candy clouds and the smell of rain-fresh pavement.

Elizabeth may never attend Harvard or become a lawyer or earn a million dollars in her lifetime. But she is the epitome of what it means to be a good person. She is the best daughter a mother could ever ask for. She is my treasure beyond measure, designed with the exquisite almond eyes of a wise old soul.

She is my best friend.

Oh, and did I mention that she is an amazing big sister to my other bestie? Well, that’s a story for another day.

Copyright © S. A. Healey

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