I bought a car, several years ago, that I absolutely loved. A 2001 Ford Focus – a simple car – white, cloth interior, clean, economical. From the time I was old enough to drive, I’d wanted a car just like it, and I finally had one of my own.
From the very beginning, the car gave me trouble. The front end started vibrating only about three days after I received the title. Not long after that, it began leaking oil. And after about six months, the transmission completely blew. Within a year’s time, the car had spent many, many hours (and many, many dollars) with a mechanic.
That didn’t change my love for the car at all. I put a lot of effort into making it work, but in the end, the cons outweighed the pros. With a child on the way, I had to let the car go, so that I could find something a lot more dependable.
Sometimes, we put a lot of effort into things that are simply not going to work – be it cars, careers, friendships or relationships. The Ford Focus has become the subject of a metaphor throughout the course of my life. And even though it has pained me, just as I had to let the car go, I have had to walk away from a lot of things and people, as much as I loved them, because they were not good for me.
I’m Meg. I’m currently 29 years old. I have been married three times, and divorced twice. I have two beautiful children, the center of my universe, and the best two decisions I’ve ever made. I am the wife of a nurse who makes me laugh, despite my inner struggle to love myself. Together, we have a dog, Zeek the Labrador.
I am, for lack of a better term, the Black Sheep, in most of my relationships, and while I’ve never been “okay” with that, I am at a point where I’ve learned to survive it.
I am scarred, but ordinary. I am sad, but I smile. I cry, but I keep going. I am flawed, but gentle. And all of the “cars” I own now, are completely dependable.
Enjoy what you read.