Where Does the Good Go?

My greatest heartbreak will forever be my parents. 

There’s no person, no event, and no other circumstance in my life that’s even come close to topping the type of devastation I felt when they separated. 

I could give you the sad orphan shpeel or the ridiculous villain origin story surrounding my trauma… which would be quite interesting, but I’ll spare you the dramatic details and get straight to the point: my dad just decided that he didn’t love my mom anymore; he wasn’t happy. And the way my mom responded to that tragedy will forever live in my head, rent free. 

(Which is annoying because if it’s going to take up space, it should at least be paying, ya feel?)

And I know, I know. Sooooooo many people’s parents get divorced and they turn out just fine. But you have to understand, 1) that’s not the way it’s supposed to be, and 2) in my eyes, my parents were PERFECT. I never saw them fight, I never thought they didn’t love each other, and I never once suspected that anything was even remotely wrong behind the scenes.

When you marry someone, you’re in it for the long haul. That’s why there are vows. They’re not there for show or for a good performance of some pretty empty promises. You are VOWING to love someone forever in the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

And for me, when my parents split up, they didn’t just destroy the idea of their vows; I think they unintentionally destroyed a part of their kids in the process— which is so hard to understand and unwrap when you’re young. 

It isn’t until we’re older that we begin to grasp that as humans, we endure tragedy, and pain, and sorrow over and over and over again. It’s not something that can be avoided, and it’s not reserved circumstantially, because heartbreak is not chained to one specific kind of grief. 

In my life, it’s presented itself in funny ways… and by funny, I mean so NOT funny. 

Confusion as a child, my best friend moving away right before high school, getting cheated on, my parents not loving each other anymore, losing a friendship that meant the world to me, my pastor deciding to move across the country (Yes, Tony I’m calling you out)… you know, the works. 

We end up obtaining all this baggage over time, and it ends up chipping away little pieces of us. And of course, we all know what we do with baggage: we carry it. 

It’s kind of sad honestly, how people don’t come without baggage. 

I guess sometimes, the lemons that life hands us are mega sour. Like make-your-eyes- water sour. With tears. Because you’re crying. Because you’re sad.

I definitely talk about grief a fair amount on my blog. Not necessarily “grief” in the sense that I’m mourning the loss of something or someone, but more so with just the way life likes to come at us from behind, and knock us to the ground with the unexpected. 

It’s comforting to know that other people have their own ups and downs in life, yes, but despite that, I also really just wanted to take a second and have this written documentation of me absolutely FREAKING OUT about how UNFAIR and DEPRESSING life can be! I mean what the heck?

What for?

Give me a reason as to why little Timmy had to fall down off his super cool scooter last week and scrape his knee?

That’s so lame. 

Give me a reason for my parents saying “peace out,” to each other and making the Ernst family household CRUMBLE in their wake. 

There is no good reason!

It’s all lame!!

I know, I’m being dramatic, blah blah blah. But for real, it’s so annoying. 

Life is so annoying, and believe me, I could go on and on about the ridiculous curveballs that get flung at us, but that would be pointless. 

What I’ll say instead, is that I don’t 100% know the purpose of me writing this one. I promise it wasn’t to complain. I was sitting at Old Cal earlier, and I was looking at the list on my notes app for things I want to eventually write about, trying to pick one, and the only thing going through my head was how sad I remember feeling when my mom threw their wedding photo in the garage one night. And how the frame broke. And how I watched my dad drive away. And picked my mom off the floor of her bathroom while she was sobbing. 

I guess we all have heavy stuff, and I think that’s the point I’m trying to make. 

Life is a collection of moments. It’s not a story, because there’s too much bland repetition for our lives to be worthy of a good story, but we do have moments. Good ones, bad ones, even the bittersweet ones. I don’t remember most of what I did last week, but I remember the exact feeling I felt when I was driving to school for my high school graduation. Or when I went to winter camp for the first time. And of course, there are the moments that made me feel like I was drowning: like when my dad took away my car when I was 16 and I was absolutely HYSTERICAL. Or when I was told my grandpa died and how I don’t remember feeling anything at all. 

MOMENTS.

My absolute worst heartbreak is just a square on this huge pathwork quilt blanket called life. 

That’s crazy. 

And to be honest, I’ll probably have a heartbreak that tops that one someday, because time makes the pain duller as years go by, and that’s when something fresh will come along. 

But even when that happens, don't let the monster of life mug you of your joy, folks.

At least not today. 

Ok, I love you.

Thanks for reading my ramblings. 

I’m done.

Roll credits.