God Bless This Mess(67)
But I’m pretty sure now that the reason I was barely holding on was that I wasn’t making time for Him.
Chapter 21
Everything Changes
I had always struggled with being content.
That February of 2020, I actually looked up the definition of the word: “Contentment is the state of being mentally or emotionally satisfied with things the way they are.”
Oh, I thought. Contentment is a good thing!
For years I’d suffered an irrational fear of contentment, in part because I saw it as complacency—and they are not the same thing. Being complacent is just allowing things to be as they are, even if you don’t agree with them or even if they’re hurting you. That’s not a good thing. But I thought of contentment as just accepting the status quo, too, as if being content meant I was being lazy. I suppose that’s an easy conclusion to make in this society, which constantly tells us all to “Go, go, go!” and “Do, do, do!” But the going and doing and worrying about what’s next can leave you with a lot of anxiety.
After that night with Elyse, I was finally starting to feel some contentment. And let me tell you, for someone like me, who was always worried and anxious, it felt good to be even a little bit content. I was surrendering the worry and asking God to direct my life. I was taking little steps every day. I was getting a routine back, focused on spending time in prayer.
I had also started working out every day. Not for a competition or a show, but for me. I took up boxing. Sometimes I would be in the middle of a workout and my trainer would yell, “Breathe! Remember to breathe!” I literally would stop breathing while punching the bag. I didn’t even know I was doing it.
In life I realized I’d been holding my breath, too. I had to learn what it feels like to take a long breath instead of just short little ones to get me through my days, and that would take training, too.
As part of that training, I consciously decided not to rush into whatever the next thing was that came my way, whether it was a new TV offer or getting asked on a date by some man. I wanted to take my time deciding what I wanted to do next with my life, and I kept praying for that. For time. For patience. For freedom.
Preparing my own mind and body for whatever was next sure felt better than worrying about it, or forcing it, or just jumping into things that I wasn’t prepared to handle. I guess I probably should have known that already, but I didn’t.
When I was growing up, there was a framed verse from the Bible on my bedroom wall:
Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.
—MATTHEW 6:34
Worrying about what might happen next never helped me, because life is never fully in our control, no matter how hard we try to control it. All we can do is try to do our best, and prepare ourselves to be strong and resilient when something happens that we aren’t expecting.
If 2020 taught me anything—if 2020 taught us all anything—it’s that everything can change.
In an instant, everything can change.
*
On Monday, February 24, Tyler’s mom, Miss Andrea, sent me a message on Instagram. It was a fan video of a clip from an old interview with Tyler, one in which he said that I was even prettier in person than he’d expected me to be.
She was always sending me things like that.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” I responded.
“Yes, it was,” she wrote back. “I know it made me smile.”
She and I had exchanged messages every once in a while, and sometimes it was hard for me, because Tyler and I still weren’t talking to each other. She wished that we would get back together, and she wasn’t shy about saying it. I can’t say I wished the same thing. But I still cared about him. And Miss Andrea was so sweet and kind, I was glad she was still in my life.
Three days later, Tyler wrote on Twitter that he was canceling all of his upcoming appearances—and he asked everyone to please pray for his mom.
The message was vague, and we hadn’t spoken to each other at all, but I felt like I should reach out to him. So I did. I texted him. I said I’d seen his tweet, and I was thinking about him, and “just praying that everything’s okay.”
He answered right back. “Thank you so much,” he wrote. “She loved you.”
He kept talking about his mom in the past tense. Then he told me, “She had a brain aneurysm. I’m here with her now, holding her hand, and I was just thinking about how much she loved you—and you just texted me.”
I couldn’t believe it. It was shocking, and just so sad.
Then Tyler thanked me again for reaching out. “I would love to be able to talk one day and put all this stuff behind us,” he said.
“I’m here if you want to talk,” I responded.
Later that day he ended up calling me, and we talked about everything. He told me Miss Andrea was on a ventilator, but she wasn’t really alive anymore. They were keeping her alive. She was only fifty-five years old. Tyler’s voice sounded so lost.
During that call, he apologized for how he’d handled everything with me, and it just felt good to feel like we could put it all behind us. When something like that happens, you just do. Tyler and I had shared so much in a very short time. Setting everything else aside, we had been open with each other about our families, and some really deep stuff. I told him again that I was there for him, and I texted to check on him the next day, when I drove out to Malibu to celebrate a friend’s baby shower.