The Feisty Fontan

“When God closes a door, He opens a window.”

Everyone loves to look out a window in anticipation of what’s coming. Waiting for grandma to arrive, keeping an eye out for the UPS man with your Amazon package, watching for your loved one to come home… looking out of a window is exciting.

But what about how it feels to get that door slammed in your face? Ok, so maybe the door doesn’t always get slammed; sometimes it shuts gently as a way to get us turn around and look out the window. Either way, the saying implies that one happens, then the other. Sometimes you need to have an end before you can have a beginning.

I’ve had a lot of closed doors over the last year and a half. Getting sick and leaving my corporate HR managerial job that I busted my butt to get and to keep…door slam. The end of a marriage…door slam.

This week, another door closed. But I was the one that closed it. It was a literal door. The door to my house. Or my former house. I locked that door and handed the keys over to the new owner.

This was a door I’ve been preparing to close for months. I sold, donated and trashed a large majority of the items I collected over the last decade of my life. Even then, I made about a thousand trips in my car to a storage unit where I stacked up plastic tubs of the crap I don’t have room for, yet aren’t ready to Marie Kondo yet.

The sale of my house also marks the start of an open window; I’m moving in with my boyfriend and his kids with the hope and intent that this is the start of our forever. I’m happier that I’ve ever been; I have the kind of relationship and family that I’ve always wanted but never thought I would have. But I am still sad staring at both the literal and figurative closed door of my sold house.

We all have mixed feelings about things that we need to work on dealing with. This is something that, as a lifelong heart patient and chronically ill person, I struggle with and am working on. I’ve got the warm fuzzies and the dark and twisties. No one asks for or wants to have child with a congenital heart defect. No one would choose to have a rare gastrointestinal disorder that makes them poop a lot. Being in the hospital sucks. I really detest the multiple sticks with a needle the size of a water hose required to start an IV. Grey toenails are not an attractive look. It would have been nice to put all the money I’ve spent on medical bills into a 401k. However, I can’t really say I would wish my heart defect away; I would be getting rid of something that is such a big part of my life and a big piece of my identity. I am the person that I am because of my heart defect. Any and all strength or badassery that I have come from the challenges of living the chronically ill life.  I have a love/hate relationship with this wonky heart of mine, and I’ve been trying to recognize, embrace and address all those feels.

So, I am putting this approach to work as I get ready for this newest major life change. Going from independent living to being part of a household of four does mean parts of my life that I enjoy will come to an end—like peeing in peace, empty laundry baskets, being able to eat ice cream for dinner on a regular basis, and I have to share a closet and a bathroom with a boy.

I also see a lot of exciting things thru my new window. Being sad about the things that had to end for me to get to this window doesn’t diminish the excitement I feel as I look forward. I think that taking a moment to take a deep breath, look at that closed door and bid farewell to the parts of my life that are left on the other side of the door make it easier to see the light coming thru the window. Maybe sometimes having a door close is the only way to get a little light in your life.