Cautious Joy

I have always held on to this belief that the more a person suffers in life, the more rewards they will reap eventually. Like when something bad happens to you, it's your get out of jail free card for something even worse down the line. This is sort of proven by the lives of many of my friends. Lately, I have questioned this philosophy, because my cousin in Poland had her arm nearly amputated by a machine at her work. I couldn't help but think: If my philosophy is right, than my life has been going way too smoothly and I am in for some major pain down the road.My life has been pure joy lately. I have a job that I adore, and the heart of a man who accepts me and loves me for exactly who I am. I have been lucky enough to have him forgive me time after time after time, and even though I have forgiven him too, I can't help but feel that I am the corruptive force in our relationship. Despite all of this, he asked me to be his wife. He got down on one knee with the most beautiful ring that I have ever seen and asked me to be his forever. I am so lucky. I am so screwed.It dawned on me while reading an autobiography that one of my students wrote in my Careers class that I have been putting up a defensive wall. This 15 year old girl, whose mom died of cancer when she was in grade 7, let me in on this little talked about event in one sentence. Than she quickly mentioned that she did not want pity or sympathy because there were people in the world that were a lot worse off. Although some might have seen this statement as wise or brave, I saw it for what it really was: A desperate need to keep the pain buried. A warning for others to not even attempt digging deeper. I saw this, because I saw myself in that statement. Constantly trying to appear strong.I don't like to talk about my life. Let me rephrase that: I don't like talking seriously about my life. I have no problem laughing at my past. Jokes about being a communist baby, baking potatoes in trash fires, or being the product of divorce come easily to me...I use them as a means to entertain. But very rarely do I pause to think how much hurt I have experienced in my life. Being ripped out of a place where I had family, friends, success at school, only to be replanted in a world that I did not understand. I was nine when we came to Canada. I was growing, trying to find myself. My lack of understanding for my new environment went far beyond my inability to speak the language. I was so unaware of the dangers of my new world that when a man asked me to come up to his apartment to "help him with something" while I was playing in the playground outside of our building, I went with him.I was damaged as a kid. My encounter with evil, paired with the pain of immigration, made me go a little crazy. I used to faint. Like 6 times a day, wherever I was. I would smack my head of the pavement, or pass out in class. Doctors had no idea what was wrong with me, despite running hundreds of tests. Eventually they got me a psychiatrist. Once I started talking, I stopped fainting.Weird how now I think that psychiatrists are for "the weak".My parent's divorce did a number on me as well. And on Matthew. Being so much like my mother (always worried about people perceiving me as weak), I was terrified that I would commit the same mistakes that she did. Mainly, marry the wrong guy and end up middle aged and completely alone. I projected a bit on Matthew. Put him through the ringer. Made him prove that he was good enough. It took me five years to realize that he was way too good for me. I once spoke with my brother about my fear of commitment and he gave it to me straight: Marrying Matthew was like buying a brand new Corvette on sale for 70% off. It's a guy analogy, but a very accurate one.And now Matthew and I are going through the immigration process, which is no picnic either.Anyway, the point of this post, I suppose, is to express how happy I am (kind of a depressing expression of happiness), and to prove to myself that I do deserve it. That nothing is waiting around the corner to ruin it.