I was a hot mess for a while after my first husband passed.  Seriously, if you knew me then, you’re already nodding in agreement.  And, if you didn’t need know me then, well . . . you don’t need the details.

He had been sick for so long.  My entire life was dedicated to keeping him alive, even after, maybe, it was good for him.  Bad things just kept piling on — bills, unhappy kids, hospital visits and the terrifying, looming, unseeable future.   I was as close to despair as I’ve ever been.

So when he was gone, and the new life, whatever it was going to be, had begun, I thought the bad things were over.  I didn’t quite formulate that thought; it was just there.  I didn’t even know I thought it until maybe a month after he died.  During the prayer requests at church, the pastor told us about a member who had had a devastating stroke at too young of an age.

I was shocked.

I was genuinely shocked, that this bad thing had happened.  The bad things were supposed to be over!

Even as I thought it, as I felt it, I knew it was absurd.  Life would keep happening.  Death would keep happening.  Illness, money worries, parenting challenges, they were all still rolling toward all of us like the big rock ball in Raiders of the Lost Arc.

It was an overwhelming realization.  I was absolutely convinced that I couldn’t handle it.  I had nothing left to give.  And for a while I was right — I did a terrible job at life.  For a while, I seemed to only do things to slow myself down and speed up that ball.

We like need to pretend that we have security.  The promise of a happily ever after, or at least of longevity.  Like all the happy citizens of King Ezekiel’s Kingdom (Walking Dead reference), we cling to the illusion that we are safe.  It gets us through the day.

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But we are not safe.  Life is risky and messy and it always ends in death.   If that thought overwhelms or terrifies you,  it doesn’t mean you can’t handle it.  It probably needs that you are in need of replenishment.  Sleep, nourishment, love, mediation, prayer, art . . . whatever feeds your soul.  Allow yourself some time to heal.  Get your balance.

But when you are well, get back to the business of living in the fragile illusion.

Boot up your laptop and start working like you can’t lose your income tomorrow.  Love your spouse like nothing will ever happen to him or her.  Hug your kid like she’s not hellbent on flying overseas to the most underdeveloped nation she can hike into.

But don’t quite believe it.   Don’t trust it.  Save money for tomorrow, but spend some today.  Tell your stories now, even if the kids roll their eyes.  Pay to zipline, and when you’re standing up there, way too high, knowing you could die, let go.   Love hard, with your whole heart, and express it openly.  Do embarrassing things.  Chat with the homeless guy.  Taste caviar and fugu.

That big round ball is rolling toward us, faster and faster and faster.  But knowing that is what makes the fugu so delicious.