The moment of a life’s triumph is an interesting and somewhat nebulous thing. The word, “triumph”, is usually reserved for feats of obvious heroism; usually, it is a term placed upon a single act that, in the doing, neutralizes all that preceded it. It is not a term that one finds applied to every-day successes, or defeating phobias, or even winning large-scale sporting events (well, not often).
This morning, I had a rare and precious gift, one that may not sound like such a thing upon the mere letters used to name it here. I had a two hour conversation with my daughter. It would take too long to tell all the things we spoke of, and most of them would not have any meaning except between she and I; which is, I suppose, as it should be. But, during the time conversing, she helped me realize something that, in all my 44 years of living, I had not yet really understood or truly accepted.
It, too, will most likely sound quite mundane but for the presence of a single word; a word that you may not understand being present in this context. I find, however, that the reality you will not understand (or may even find it hyperbole) to be utterly irrelevant to the depth and meaningfulness of its use and what it signifies.
You see, that I sit here and type this whatever, that I am someone who possesses sanity (albeit relative in many moments), that I am the manner and type of person that I am, and that I, regularly and with mindful effort bring genuinely good, helpful, and positive things to the world and to others is more than unusual, more than common, and perhaps even more than should be possible.
It is, in a word, a triumph. My life, as it is in this moment; quiet and humble and without any renown whatever, is triumph. I am triumphant.
There are not words enough to adeqately convey in a single post how and why this is the case. There is no way to truly demonstrate the simply reality of it without subjecting you to far more gory detail than you would ever, willingly want to know. I am thankful to the very marrow I contain that you can sit and read this, whomever you are, and both have no idea what the hell I could be talking about AND that you can read it and afford to luxuriate in the thought that this may be just another vanity post or arrogant statement or [insert disdainful adjective here] being made by some stranger (or less than stranger) on a blog.
Someone who does know most of it, and who I once thought was a friend, told quite a few strangers (in the process of ensuring I was shunned and cast out in the name of securing their own sense of security) that I was, “… someone who has been through so much that it is impossible that she is sane. Certainly she is not someone worth being entangled with in any social situation. She will poison anything or anyone she encounters.”
This person sincerely meant every word. They were wrong, but let’s face it, what do you do in the face of such fear and revulsion but vacate the vicinity as fast and as fully as you can? It doesn’t matter what good intentions you have or hold if all someone can see is ill will and bad intention when they look at you. I made the mistake of actually telling them my story and this sad, sorrowful outcome was the result.
I mention it because it is a very small and insignificant tale in a much longer, broader, and darker weft of life’s fabric. Also because it is a small example of how the expectations and judgments of the world and others are not the things against which true triumph is had or made.
The truth of triumph is not found in carrying on in the face of adversity, nor is it the laurel received for keeping one’s mouth shut when misunderstood, misconstrued, or abused.
Triumph is the True Name of that which chooses wisely and struggles, strives, and succeeds when the only reason left to do so is because you must. It is the thing that refuses to let you stay there, broken and bloodied and bruised beyond even a mother’s recognition. It is the thing that insists you try and try and try and try and then, try again… as long as you have breath, as long as you can as much as twitch a nail-less toe or finger.
It is the calm, steady, and utterly indomitable part that wakes when all other things have flown into the rafters and cringe away from life itself; it stands when all else can only shudder and wish or dream for quick dispatch.
The fullness of this did not occur to me during the conversation itself, just as it never occurred to me how completely transcendant is my life. The moment of the utterance and the simple sentence given and then, repeated, was not this roman candle of incandescent realization. It took the remainder of the day, with La Brea roiling over and descimating the narrator and all things that would as much as think to withstand it. It has bubbled and warmed and flowed upwards like lava for these last, almost ten hours and only now, finds its way to cool upon the page.
There are many, many things I will never have or know in this life. Many upon many accomplishments and laurels that the world may give that I will simply never recieve or hold. There are throngs upon massive throngs of roses that shall never fall at my feet, no crowds to applaud me, no copyright or patents or awards, and no celebrity ulogy or large attendance when the day of my funeral finally arrives. It is as well and I find I am quite content for it. I smile, here, now, just to type the lines. It has never been “about me” and I doubt it ever will be; this, too, is as it should be.
Triumph is not a thing of fanfare, I think. In fact, I am absolutely certain that there are countless humans in this world who are beautifully and fully triumphant just as I am; quietly, anonymously, and humbly so; sitting in a place called “home”, never giving it even as much thought as I do in this. Each of us just goes on because going on just happens to be what we do.
But in this moment, almost-but-not-quite drowsy and contemplating sleep, I thought I would take a moment to own a word that it never occurred to me to try and touch… to slowly replay the flickering reel of life history and really look at it; step back from myself and watch it as if it were a movie, a safely distant experience.
It is, in truth, a fucking miracle that I am even here. It is amazing that I am who and how I am. It is incredible that, somehow, in spire of it all, I am actually a good person.
I am triumphant.