One of my longest friends relapsed yesterday.

In fact, he was my very first boyfriend. Twenty-two years ago.

My second one, my first real feeling of love at first sight, my real sense of “I belong here”, died of a heroin overdose.

In front of me.

I’ve never done heroin.

Or been addicted to drugs.

I have; however, attracted addicts. More than I can say.

One of my ex-husbands, also an addict, once called me a “fixer.”

Interesting.

It’s been a challenging few years, and I know I’m not the only one.

So, this is absolutely, certainly, and definitely not a sympathy-seeking blog.

Pandemic? Check.

Complicated Pregnancy during isolation? Check.

The unexpected passing of my mother? Check.

The unexpected passing of my father in law? Check.

A newborn with colic? Check.

Moving from one coast to another? Check.

A dash of a very intense divorce? Yep.

And lastly, but certainly not least, loss of deep friendships and family? Why not?

Check. Check. Check.

I know others have it way worst.

And I, am actually grateful for the deep dark waters I’ve been navigating.

Then the questioning comes.

Is. It. Me?

Is “fixer” another word for “enabler?

Is my dharma to advise, to help, or simply just listen?

Do I try too hard to change people?

Either way, all of it, the ego, the self-isolation, the series of unfortunate events, they have caused severe pain. Severe injury. Severe trauma. Severe judgment.

And then it happened. Two days ago, I came to a realization.

It took me two divorces, two births, one miscarriage, forced removal of freedom, abusive relationships, deaths, some positive law enforcement involvement, and forty years of living in this time and this space (whatever that is):

My dharma, is to mend MYSELF.

My dharma, is to LOVE.

Just as I am. Just as they are.

Everyone has a mission, to search within, stitch up the wounds, and move on.

Two days ago, I felt lighter.  Finally. I felt the veil lift.

I understand now:

If people want to use drugs, they will.

It’s up to them to find out what they’re trying to drown.

If people are afraid of love or commitment, they’ve been hurt by it.

It’s up to them to break down the walls. To let go of the idea that they will lose their freedom because of it.

Freedom is one of the best things on this earth. I get that.

But the RIGHT kind of love IS freedom.

If people think it’s too late to start something new, it’s up to them to rebuild their confidence.

If people are lazy, it’s up to them to wake the fuck up. No opportunity ever comes knocking at the door.

It’s up to them to get up, get out.

If people are terrified of ending something, or letting something go that no longer serves them,

It’s up to them to find the strength to fight through the sadness and get to the other side.

If people are abusers, it is up to them to forgive their abusers.

If people are judgmental, it’s up to them to face their shadows. And the mirror.

And in the end, since we are all the same, it’s me.

I’m “people”

And so are you.

It is my duty, my mission, my earthy responsibility to fight my spiritual battles.

To let come. To let go.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY:

To love them, all of them, just as they are.

No fixing.

No changing.

Just loving.

We were put here to love.

And I will continue to do that.

Love myself and love others.

Re-stitch the open wounds.

Heal myself the way I see fit. Fuck the shoulds. Or the Ifs. Or the have to’s.

And never forget that through love and gratitude, for even all of the shadows,

ANYTHING is possible.

And that, my friends, is the (M)end.