I just posted this status on my Facebook:
I don’t think the adventure of my life is going to be what I thought it was going to be. But that doesn’t mean I won’t have an amazing adventure anyway. I may grieve what I think “should” have been or “should” be but my grief always gives way to optimism for something unexpected and beautiful to come in its place.
It’s hilarious to me how sometimes some crazy hard-hitting realization can come to me at the most random time, here on a Monday, at my desk at work. Of course, it was partly because of this link my friend posted:
The night I hit my emotional bottom, I tried watching this movie. Got through the first 20 minutes before I lost it. I mean I LOST. IT. I was crying and crazed and telling Steve how he has to take me somewhere before I die. I was mourning all that my life was supposed to be that I was erasing with alcohol and my idiocy and not knowing who I was any more… It was more complicated than that, but I just don’t have the energy to type it right now. If you’re reading this, well, you know.
So anyway, I knew that Up must have had an uplifting (ha) ending. I mean, it’s a Pixar film. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to watch it after that to find out.
But after I read this engagement post, after I read what the groom said about the “boring” things and about her being his greatest adventure, it occurred to me… how Up must end… what the message must have been. And I realized it’s what I’ve already discovered recently, much to my surprise. That maybe I don’t have to travel the world for my life to be amazing. That maybe the life I live right now is enough. So I looked it up, the spoiler to the movie, and yep. Yep indeed. Here was the part I needed to read. It makes me choke up so hard thinking about it.
Dawn comes and Russell is upset and disappointed in Carl. His house is safe and on the ground now, but he has broken his promise to Russell. Russell gives Carl his scarf with his earned badges on it, saying that he doesn’t want it anymore. Carl grows very angry and shouts that he didn’t ask for this; all he wanted was to come down here and reside peacefully in his own house that he and Ellie built. He storms in and sits in his armchair. He opens Ellie’s book of adventures, and stares sadly at the page that she showed him so many years ago: “Stuff I’m Going To Do”. He turns the page, expecting blank pages, but to his surprise he sees pictures of himself and Ellie at various stages in his life. On the last page of the pasted pictures, he reads something that Ellie had written for him before she died: “Thanks for the adventure. Now go have a new one. Love, Ellie.”
I’m crying again and again each time I read it. I need to remember this. Steve and my friends have tried to tell me for so long that I am enough, that this life I am living right now is enough. Maybe I should start believing it.