The Merge

"A lot of people don’t believe in miracles. I honestly never did either, until that night last December, when something inside of me shifted in a way that is hard to explain. Here is my story."

I sat there alone in the living room as the snow fell quietly outside, covering the world in cold. The half-decorated Christmas tree stood barren and lopsided in the corner of the room, and the heaviness in my chest pushed me further into the recliner.

I hated her for ruining my life. Snotty, whiney, little pee-pants brat! All she does is cry and hide behind me everywhere I go. Her sniveling echoed down the hall. She’s afraid to go anywhere or do anything, I thought. I’m tired of being stuck here in this dying, lonely, midwestern town because of her!

I wanted to hurt her and make her go away. She was ruining my life.

Then the shout from the back bedroom came. Here we go, I thought. Her too! My hateful young rebel, spewing vulgarities into the air, slammed the door as the little one cried. I was so tired of her too, manipulating people into getting her own way, while she pretends to be perfect to the rest of the world! She was constantly drawing attention to herself, dressing like a little slut because that’s what the boys’ wanted. She cared about nothing else!

How am I ever supposed to be happy when they have ruined every relationship I’ve ever had!

On that particular Friday evening, as I sat there listening to the squabble, I decided to just let them work it out. Bratty Baby wants to stay home and feel sorry for herself, accusing people of not being nice to her or loving her, while Rebel Teen seethes anger because she wants to go partying with her friends.

I really didn’t know what I wanted to do. Does it matter? I thought. I had tried so many times to rid myself of both the girls, but they kept coming back, time and time again, torturing me with their insecurities, fears, and anger.

I sipped on my coffee while I listened to them. I really was enjoying the rich warmth flowing down my throat and thought maybe it best to ignore them longer. It had been a long week trying to recover from the grief of my most recent breakup. The man I loved more than I have ever loved anyone was with someone new. Of course, he was gone because of them. I knew that, although I didn’t suppose he would admit it.

I quieted them both with a snack and decided to journal since it was the only thing that brought me peace anymore. I loved the way the pen felt in my hand gliding across the white paper, and I reveled in the satisfaction of the thick curved lines forming with ease as my thoughts unraveled.

I tried to focus on the positive things in my life to keep away the tears, but they soon crept up anyway and flowed down my cheeks onto the paper. What is wrong with me? I thought as my head tried to sort out the confusion in my heart. Something has to change!

I was suddenly jolted back to the room by the sound of a raspy, shrill, screech coming from outside, and then a frightened scream from the little one down the hall. The whole house shook as footsteps thundered into the room, my heart pounding to escape my chest.

They were terrified, but I ignored them both. I had to admit to myself that I was frightened too, and when I looked out the window to see the ghostly face with deep set eyes staring back at me, my heart skipped several beats. I finally felt relief when after one more screech, the barn owl silently lifted itself into the night.

“It’s just an owl.” I said out loud to myself and to the girls, acknowledging that they were there, and we all laughed at ourselves. Looking at them for the first time today, I reflected for a moment on the sense of guilt I was feeling, as if the owl had reprimanded me in some way with his screams.

And then the questions came.

“Why do you hate us so much?” the little one asked innocently.

“Yeah, why do you?” my teenager wondered as well. “I like it when you’re nice to us.”

Why do I treat them so badly? I wondered as I considered their questions. Valid questions that had not before been asked. I pondered upon all the mean, hateful, thoughts I have about them, and for the first time considered how my rejection of them affects us all.

“I don’t know” I answered. “I guess I just feel I’m better off alone.”

I’m not sure how many minutes ticked by in silence as I sat there reflecting on those questions and on my past. My stubbornness to see the darkness inside of me and the truths of my life, me denying the trauma of my past, had done nothing but mess things up even more. I had lived in this pain for too long.

“But, we ARE you!” they simultaneously spoke the truth. My head suddenly gained clarity and began to make peace with my heart, as a true sense of relief and understanding came over me.

I had always known they were here, that they were me, but had never seen them in the way I was seeing them now. It was as if I had met them for the very first time.

A contented smile came over me. “You are me.” I whispered, inviting them both to sit with me in the oversized recliner. Wrapping my arms around them with the love and compassion that I would give any other child on this earth, I promised to forever be kind to them. I was done hurting them. I was done hurting myself.

My head turned once again to the window. The blanket of snow now appeared soft and warm on the tree branches, and I noticed that it had stopped falling. The owl once again caught my eye. He was back, but this time he was silent. His strange white face loomed in the tree, seemingly suspended in air, nodding in approval.

My heart felt lighter, and I knew at that moment my life would be forever changed. I knew I had experienced a miracle, and with the deepest gratitude in my heart drifted into a peaceful sleep.

"It wasn’t the type of miracle that people think of when they think of miracles, like a paraplegic walking again, or a blindman gaining his vision. It wasn’t one that I even tell people about, because I don't know if it would mean anything to anyone else. It was a miracle inside of me, that only I can feel, but that I hope for you."