The Brick, Part 2

Hi.

I hope you’re well. Seriously, I do.

I ran into a friend not too long ago, who lamented the fact that I wasn’t posting to my blog. I told her I wasn’t sure why — “…just too busy, I guess” was my response.

But she had another take. Her analysis: “It’s clear you’re very happy, which means you don’t need to blog. Good for you, bad for us,” she laughed.

I didn’t know at the time if that was the reason. I just knew that it meant a lot to be missed.

Well, clearly, it appears I need to blog.

(If you’re reading between the lines, that means: Happiness is over; the blindside is back.)

As a reminder, my first marriage ended with a brick. A literal brick. You’re welcome to read more about that here, if you’re so inclined.

But oddly enough, the universe decided to send me another message. This one not inscribed on a brick, but instead, a search warrant.

I’m not going to go into detail. Not yet — in time. But needless to say, I would have welcomed a brick at this point. A brick would have hurt less. Especially if the brick hit only me.

Because this one hit me where I hurt most: my family.

It turns out, the man I had married — well, he was not who I thought he was. Not at all.

And that might be the understatement of the century.

I have spent weeks meeting with detectives, therapists, the FBI and one kick-ass district attorney. There have been pictures taken, there have been reports filed, there have been hushed conversations and seedy, sordid details.

But with any luck, the man I married — reluctantly, somewhat fearfully, always cringing that another brick would be thrown my way — will now be in prison.

For life.

I am doing everything I can to move forward, focused solely on the health and well-being of my family. As such, I established a small GoFundMe account to symbolically show my children that our friends and family are behind us all the way.

The account was intended to fund a name change for my baby (last name only — she will now be a proud “Byerman”). Any excess, should that happen, would go to therapy bills for my family. And my own annulment.

Because who else in the history of the world do you know who would crowdfund an annulment? Yup, I would.

So, long story short, I never imagined the result. I never envisioned such generosity of resources, kindness and spirit. I am overwhelmed.

Because the account has been shared more than 120 times in the last 6 hours, I have seen a HUGE spike in readership of this blog. Evidently, people who don’t know me are trying to learn more about me. And to them (you?), I say “howdy.”

If you want to know more about me, all you need to know is this: I’m a mommy. I’m a writer. I say “fuck” a lot. I’ve been through hell, but as such, I’ve found an amazing group of friends — both online and in real life — who commiserate, share, support and swear with me.

And if you’re here, I hope to welcome you to the group.

A dear friend sent me this update from Elizabeth Gilbert. I’ve written before about my lack of interest in Eat, Pray, Love (and yes, I believe I can leave my “I-am-woman-hear-me-roar” card at the door for that revelation).

But Gilbert posted something to her Facebook timeline just a few days after this new “brick” — Brick 2.0, as it shall henceforth be called — that resonated powerfully.

I’m sharing it now. Please read it with the context of Brick 1 and Brick 2.0 in mind.

Thought of the day: NEVER WASTE YOUR SUFFERING.

Dear Ones —

I wanted to re-post these thoughts, which I originally posted here last year.

I’ve been thinking about my old friend Jim Maclaren for some reason a lot lately. He was one of the most remarkable men I ever knew, and I wanted to share these thoughts of him again.

I wrote a profile about Jim years ago for GQ magazine, documenting his extraordinary journey, and we remained friends after that story was published.

Here was his tale: Jim had been a handsome, young, athletic, Yale drama school-trained aspiring actor back in the 1980s, when he was hit by a bus one day and lost his leg. He courageously pulled his life back together after this trauma and went on to become the fastest amputee long-distance triathlete in the world, regularly finishing Iron Man races far ahead of his able-bodied competitors. He also became a motivational speaker, and, if anything, grew into a better and more successful man than he’d been before his accident.

And then, unbelievably, in 1993 he was hit by a car AGAIN while competing in a triathlon…and this time he became a paraplegic. (As he himself said in response to such a horrible run of double-bad luck: “Jesus fuck, for fuck’s sake, can you fucking believe it?!”) After this disaster, he fell into despair and became a drug addict, until the moment of his catharsis — the moment that he decided not only to live, but to search tirelessly (almost mythically) for greatest benefit that he could possibly draw from his broken destiny. He stubbornly committed to asking himself, Who was the best person he could become, after such suffering? What could this anguish specifically teach him about compassion, about the randomness of our lives, about grace, about surrender? He told me, “For the longest time, my goal was only to be able to walk across the room. But then I remembered what my real goals in life have always been — to know God, to know myself, to know wisdom, to know my fellow man. And was I going to get there by walking across the room? Or did I need to change my focus, and expand it?”

But what I will always remember about Jim most clearly is when he told me, “Never waste your suffering.” This was in response to a question I’d asked him about whether he thought that suffering makes us into better people. He said, “Not necessarily. Not automatically. Suffering just happens, constantly and randomly, and if you don’t make anything out of it, then it causes you nothing but harm — it happened to you for no reason. But suffering can also be the greatest possible invitation to transform — but only if you accept that invitation, and only if you go through a complete catharsis, and only if you actually change yourself because of what you’ve experienced. But that part is up to you. Only you can execute a catharsis in your own life. Suffering without catharsis is nothing but wasted pain. And you should never waste your pain, never waste your suffering. It’s powerful stuff, the most powerful stuff there is. Use it. Transform from it. Learn. Grow. Be better.”

I want to repeat that one line, because it has never stopped ringing in my head: SUFFERING WITHOUT CATHARSIS IS NOTHING BUT WASTED PAIN.

Don’t ever let your pain be wasted. Make something of it. Use it for transformation. Harness its power and evolve.

Jim MacLaren died in 2010 (his injuries and infections finally defeated him) but I have never forgotten his words, his determination. I have tried as hard as possible to learn by his extraordinary example — to never miss the chance for a catharsis, to never stop fighting for the light, never stop evolving.

So that’s what I woke up thinking about this morning, and I wanted to share it with all of you.

Blessings, and Rest in Peace Jim MacLaren.

LG

So in summary:

“Jesus fuck, for fuck’s sake, can you fucking believe it?!”

And:

Never waste your suffering.

Something good has to come from all of this.

Maybe the good begins now. Perhaps I needed to start blogging again.

Because evidently, I’m that girl: The girl the universe can’t help but fuck with.

Hmmm. Sounds familiar.

So, dear friends and readers: what’s up in your world?

Love to you all,

Mikalee

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