If you were to find about thirty of my friends and ask them, "How judgmental is Ryan McBurney?"...
Well, first you'd have to find thirty people, and THAT is a Herculean task in and of itself....
But, were you to do it, I'm fairly certain that they'd probably say that, on a whole, I'm fairly easy-going, with a strong sense of what I like and dislike, but mostly open-minded about people. Accepting to a fault, except if they happen to be in a boy band. Or completely, irrationally obsessive.
I try not to judge people, as a general rule. But the downside of that is, I judge myself harshly.
I never meant to turn out like this. I never set out on a self-destructive, obsessive path about learning everything I could from my mistakes. It's not even that I do; it's that I brood on them, like a hen on her eggs.
I think about what I could have done differently. I think about how I can make amends for my errors. I think about how not to make the same mistake again.
And this kind of thinking paralyzes me, sometimes. It hobbles me and shackles me to my mistakes, and no matter how many times I forgive myself, it all seems to rush back as soon as I mess up again.
Today would have been my daughter's fourth birthday. During her brief year of life, I was finishing off college, I was trying to hold down a stressful job, I was juggling a wife and two kids and a mother in law and a dog and a house and repairs and a lawn and a van and....
I know I did the best that I could. I think I did the best that I could. I'd like to think I did the best that I could. I tried to do the best that I could.
My inner demon tells me I should have done more.
I could have read more to my daughter. I could have let a couple things slide, just to spend a little more time with her. I should have prayed for her more, I should have had stronger faith, I should have...
I forgive myself, and look to avoid my mistakes in the future. I pick myself back up and keep going. Next time, it'll be better.
Next post will probably be about grief once more - the day Abby went home and everything that followed. After that, I promise to have some more light-hearted happy blogs. :D
No promises needed for future light-hearted blogs. Though I dont discriminate against happy blogs. I tend to appreciate honest blogs all the more.
ReplyDelete~Na =)
Dude. It's like I was there. I know *exactly* what you're talking about. Everything appears to be fine, you carry on, and BLAMMO - someone sonic screwdrivers you in the gut. And if that weren't bad enough, this then allows all the demons you thought you squashed previously to call their mates, hop in a cab, bring their demon girlfriends and crash the party.
ReplyDeleteI didn't go to the hospital the day Heath died. I had spent the morning telling my friend how I couldn't do this, how having two babies in the NICU just sucked, how it wasn't fair, how I felt torn between hospital (containing my two sons) and home (containing my two daughters).
Then, at 6:35 I get the call from Andy - "We just lost Heath."
Yeah. I actually remember thinking "Well, we'll be OK - we still have Abe." What mother thinks like that?! Stress/fear/worry/sadness suck and they mess with your head.
Your blogs are helping me. I like hearing your thoughts, 'specially about Abby and the "behind the scenes" stuff.
No-one understands the bone crushing, skin peeling breath taking sadness that goes with losing a child. Except someone who has lost s child.
Again I say - February SUCKS. But thank you *so* much for writing this stuff down. I've been thinking of doing the same for a while now, your convincing me I should.
Must go cry now.
Oh - the thing that really freaked me out when we lost Heath? It really felt that I was "overheard" and that having two babies in the NICU was somehow made easier for me by removing one. Bah. I Stull can't shake that feeling 4 years later. I'm a tad miffed, fed up and angry with the world in general over that one. Reason #1 why I now never EVER complain about how "hard" having kids can be. Basically, I'm scared too.
ReplyDeleteRational, no?
>:o/
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Cruel words.
ReplyDeletePlease stop "shoulding" on yourself, dear one.
You DID do the best you knew how to do.
The GRACE of GOD is on your life, it is evident in everything your write about. I see His heart in you, through all of the pain, your tears, your fear of making wrong choices, although none of them were "wrong" because they were made from a heart full of love for his daughter. There is nothing that we can do accept move forward, keep standing and most of all keep LOVING! This is truly what we have to give. It is our best comfort, and our greatest weapon, It heals and destroys all at the same time. In my opinion, you are one of the best examples of a father I have had privilege to know. I can say I am honored to know you.
ReplyDelete~Tina~
Ryan, Sometimes I think no matter how well we may be doing something, later we always think we could have...should have...would have done it better. I was very young when I had children and today I think, 'I could have done it better' and then I look at my adult Christian children who are both on worship teams at their churches and I say, 'Lord, maybe I could have done it better, but You did it best!' I continue to lift you up & I often miss little Abby & then I can go look at her picture in the conference room hallway & think, 'someday, we'll all be together again.' Love to you and Joy and Edan, Deborah S.
ReplyDelete