Broken

****WARNING**** This post includes bad words that appear frequently. If that kind of thing offends your sensibilities then don't read. I'm too sad to apologize for or defend my swearing.

 Today, I would like to shout the loudest "Fuck you" to the Universe. Today, I want to crawl in a hole. Today, I want to be strong but I don't know how. Today, I found out that my dearest friend in the whole world has been diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma.

If I had to choose one very best friend simply based on all of the things she knows about me, all of the good things, all of the bad things, and all of the ugly things, it would be Sara. Sara is smart, funny, kind, beautiful and all of the other things anyone would say about their dearest friend. But she's also lots of other things. For all of the terrible things she knows about me, she only ever says nice things about me. Way too nice. She has loved me unconditionally, she has picked me up off the floor literally and figuratively. She saw me through the hardest year of my life. She picked up the pieces of my life when that year was over. When I didn't know who I was, I modeled myself after her. When I didn't know how I'd go on, she showed me the way. When I didn't think I could survive another second, she gave me a shove. Some of my most cherished memories include her. Some of my most cherished stories that I don't actually remember but have been told I participated in include her.

 Sara and I were roommates during my freshman year of college. I was young and naive and confused. I was supposed to room with a friend from high school and she was supposed to live off campus with one of her friends; at virtually the last minute, both of our friends backed out and we got put together. I was apprehensive at first but the year we lived together ended up being exactly what I needed. At the time, I was one half of a relationship built on control, manipulation and lots and lots of lies. . At some point during the year it all came crashing down. I couldn't keep up the ruse anymore and not many people were fooled by it anymore. I couldn't even fool myself into believing it was a healthy relationship. Even though I didn't want to live like that anymore, I didn't know how to be anyone other than Half. I was so lost and so scared. Sara gave me direction, she gave me understanding, she told me everything I needed to hear even when it was ugly. I owe everything about the person I am today to her. I owe her for giving me the strength to walk away. I owe her for giving me the confidence to demand better. I owe her for giving me purpose.

 She is so strong and I am so not. She says this isn't what she would have chosen for her family but it's what they've been given so we should pray for her girls and her husband. That's right, she's married and has two beautiful little girls. How in the fuck does this happen? I thought being in my late 20's meant that some of my friends would be getting married, some would be getting divorced and we'd be raising children. I thought that we wouldn't have to deal with fucking cancer until our babies were older and didn't need us as much. Her babies need her a whole lot because they are still babies. She's so full of grace and faith and so stoic. Meanwhile, I want to throw the world's biggest temper tantrum and lash out at everyone who shovels that load of bullshit titled "Everything Happens for a Reason" and "God Doesn't Give You More Than You Can Handle." Who the fuck believes that? Only the people who aren't experiencing complete devastation, that's who. Even Job didn't believe that shit when he was given plenty more than he could handle. It's such a cop out excuse. I don't want to believe in a God that hands out horrible suffering like the bitch that is cancer the way He hands out the wonderful things like the smell of babies' heads and coffee and springtime. I refuse. I'm not buying it. Why don't we all just say what we're really thinking which is, 'Why in the fuck do good, honest, loving, kind, caring people have to put up with this shit when there are plenty of other people who are none of those things that deserve this more?' God isn't in charge of this. Some other asshole is responsible for it and I want to personally deliver a swift kick in the taco to whoever has left a gigantic pile of shit in the middle of a life that is supposed to be lovely and vibrant.

 I’m furious and broken and overcome with utter shock, dismay, and devastation. For Sara, for her family, for her girls and her husband and myself. I’m so selfish that I’m saddened for myself. Mainly because I don’t know how to exist in a world where respectable people receive horrific things and also because, it is my own worst fear that I would become sick and have to focus my time and energy on getting better, rather than focusing on being a mediocre mother. Also, because if this can happen to her whom I admire so much, what could happen to me? I haven’t always been faithful or kind or true.

 Tonight, when it was Fifi’s bedtime, I didn’t rush her like I usually do. I read an extra book. I “nuggled” just a little longer. I lingered over the smell of her head a few extra seconds. I thanked God for blessing me with a wonderful, perfect girl that I’ve never been worthy of and cursed the existence of pain, disease and suffering. I chastised myself for assigning importance to things that don’t really matter. For holding onto relationships that don’t give me anything back, for wasting precious time in friendships with people who could never be Sara, for thinking that things like houses, cars, clothes and jewelry actually matter. They don’t matter. None of that shit matters. What matters are snuggles and extra books, cookies before bed, sticky hands, melted popsicles and stolen kisses.