Down in the Flood; or How I Spent My Summer Vacation

 Check out the ever-smiling Todd Smallie on bass guitar!

Well, that high tide's risin', Mama, don't you let me down  
Pack up your suitcase, Mama, don't you make a sound
 
Now it's king for king, And queen for queen  
Gonna be the meanest flood,That anybody's ever seen
 
Oh mama, ain't you gonna, Miss your best friend now?  
You're just gonna have to find yourself, Another best friend, somehow.

A couple weeks ago, I found myself standing around a bonfire one chilly night in rural Tennessee, warming my hands while chatting with some new friends.  As sparks leapt into the starry sky, and tales were passed around the fire, one of the gentlemen casually mentioned that the area where we were standing had been under water two years ago.  We were roughly 45 miles west of Nashville, but the river valley we were standing in had not been exempt from the severe flooding that took place in the spring of 2010.  He pointed to a wonderfully rustic cabin about 50 feet away, and said that the flood waters had all but destroyed it.  To the casual observer, there weren't any obvious signs of damage, although I was assured that much work had gone in to rebuilding it.  The rising water and mud had done a number on the inside. With the help of friends though, the owner had gutted and rebuilt the interior, and propped the cabin up on higher, more solid foundation piers. 

The story finally clicked for me this morning, more than 2 weeks later: damn if I didn't feel like that cabin!  I've been down in my own metaphorical flood this summer, and the following months have included a good deal of rebuilding and shoring up my own foundations.

I'd been patching myself together earlier in the year after a big breakup with a boyfriend.  It was the kind of breakup that truly blindsides you, and leaves you second-guessing life in general, and your own judgement in particular, for a long while afterwards.  I was on the mend, though, finding a new source of passion in music, strengthening old friendships, and learning how to make new ones, stretching myself, and trying new things.  I'd even dabbled a bit in some online dating. 

And then came the Week from Hell - blindsided again.

 My online dating misadventures that can be summed up as:

- lackluster brunch date on Saturday (dude #1)

- cyber-stalked Sunday to Monday (dude #2)

- essentially called fat via email on Monday (dude #3)(Yes, really.  Not exaggerating.)

- rejection via email on Monday from a guy I'd gone out with weeks earlier, and who had subsequently dropped off the face of the earth. (Yep, dude #4)

None too impressed with the male population of Atlanta, I canceled the dating subscription, and hugged my dogs.

And ya know...all that seemed aggravating, and a little hurtful.
Until Tuesday rolled around.

On Tuesday, during a beer-y and boozy meeting with my ex-husband, a tangled and incoherent story came out that he had recently been diagnosed with a variety of complicated health issues, including cancer. We've known each other for more than 20 years, and have remained on decent terms in the two years since our split, so this was devastating news.  After additional questioning, I also  learned that some of his actions during our time together could have potentially affected my health as well. Fortunately, I'm fine.

It also became clear that the ex was an emotional trainwreck, and wasn't dealing with the situation.  By the following week, I was the one who had to call his siblings to convey the news.  Lucky for him, friends and family mobilized quickly to help the ex-hubby.  Over the summer, his health got worse before it got better, but I'm happy to say that the health crises have leveled off and he's doing really well now.

So for the  couple months I've  had to deal with the usual myriad unkindnesses that can come with cyber dating, the kind that chip away at your confidence. I had to sort through the grief  and anger that come when you realize that someone you trusted was dishonest with you.  And an old relationship was suddenly, startlingly redefined. I had to tell former inlaws that their loved one was ill and suffering. And I watched and supported as an old friend came close to defeat in his battle with disease.

When the sudden heavy rains hit Tennessee in 2010, and the rivers rose, the folks who were staying on the property stayed calm.  They stowed away their most treasured belongings (musical instruments in this case) on the highest protected ground they could find.  With the help of a nearby friend with a john boat, they evacuated  to safety in small groups. After the crisis passed, they came back, evaluated the structures on site, and figured out how to rebuild a little stronger, a little tougher.




So yeah, me and the Tennessee cabin:

Nearly submerged by outside forces, but still standing.

The signs of damage are still there if you know where to look.  
The rebuilding can take some time, and a lot of effort.
But with the help of friends and loved ones, we're standing a little taller.  

Our foundations are a little more rugged than they had been before.

We're still standing.
We're still here. Sometimes that's enough.