This week it has been 9 months since I looked into my dear husband's eyes, and 6 months since I got the news my sweet son had died. Anniversaries. Anniversaries are typically celebrations - for marriage, for careers, for sobriety. Many successes are marked by anniversaries. Is it a good idea to benchmark the loss of someone with anniversaries? And if not, how can you avoid it? Those days stand out in memory, feeling as if they occurred just yesterday and strangely feeling as if it was a lifetime ago. I am not in a good place in my grief journey right now. My emotions are barely below the surface. It takes nothing at all to bring me to tears when talking about David or Adam. Conversely, I LOVE to talk about them. It keeps them alive for me. No one can forget them if we talk about them. How in the world is one to find the balance to go forward and not backslide? I don't even know if there is an answer to that question. I suppose, in my mind, that if there is one it might go something like this.
You just keep going. I fail many days, especially weekends. If I don't make plans for early in a day that I don't work, then I often don't manage to get out of bed until late, if at all. I'm working on that by making breakfast plans or appointments for tire rotations and fun things like that. It gets me out and moving. I also find myself in a place where after spending time with people, going home is even harder. I think about how they're going home to husbands and more than likely getting a hug and a kiss upon arrival. Don't misunderstand, I'm thrilled that they do have husbands to go home to. It just magnifies the fact that I don't. And then I don't want to get out of bed. And then I sleep. And then I can't sleep at night. Then it's hard to function the next day. Not the rhythm of life that you can dance joyfully to.
Then there is the "putting on a brave face for the rest of the world" issue. When you go out into the world, people you work with, do business with, neighbor with, cope better if you appear to be back to normal. Family and close friends for the most part understand that you're not. They may not love it but they understand it and in my case they are very compassionate. But people who don't know you so well - acquaintances and co-workers, let's say, are very uncomfortable if you get teary-eyed in the middle of a conversation. So I don't know about anyone else in my shoes, but I put on a facade that I am okay. By Tuesday usually I can manage it pretty well and by Friday it's automatic. Until I come home on Friday night and can take that ridiculously grinning mask off. And the exhaustion of pretending all week sets in. After that - well, see paragraph 2.
I suppose at this point I have to acknowledge that I am not living. I'm existing. I want to live but I'm certainly not afraid anymore to die. I know there are "stages" but I don't know what they are. I have no interest to know. I need to feel and embrace my own grief, and mourn for those I loved so dearly in my own way. I am determined to move out of this stage and on to whatever is my destiny beyond this. How am I doing that? After one therapist failure, I found another that I like very much. I jumped a huge hurdle and went back to church. Dave and I had always gone together and I was afraid to do it alone. But I did. And not only did I survive it, I felt stronger as the service went on. I was embraced by other parishioners and invited to dinner afterwards. Score!!! I'm making plans. It sounds ridiculous, but too much at one time would put me back in bed for a week. So I've set a date in the future (just over 2 months) and am making lists of things that need to be done by then, (financial planner, a new will, making sure all beneficiaries are accurate) boring but important things. And I'm preparing mentally for what I intend to implement at that future date. Taking care of me. Physically that means exercise and a better, healthier diet. Spiritually, it means continuing to attend church. Emotionally, I'll continue with therapy and have some plans for some support groups.
I'm sure there will be some slippage in my future, but the most important thing I've learned is to wake up each day and try again. It's a brand new clean slate to write your story on for that day. I believe with perseverance that pretty soon it will be one step forward, two back; one step forward, one back; two steps forward, one back, until my trajectory is only forward. It may only be at 5 mph but that's progress. My fuel is faith, family, friends and fortitude. So until next time, if you hear a little voice chanting "I think I can, I think I can" pay no mind. It's just me persevering. Failure at this is not an option. Until next time, make it your best day!
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