Monday, December 31, 2012

last post for this year

 so this year, 2012 - what a year. Highs and lows and in-betweens.  Really low lows and the highs look different now than they did before but guess what?

That's not a bad thing.

On good days, I'm more present in my life than I have been for several years, and I like it out here, with my husband and my great kids and my goofy little dog. Today I got up and went food shopping and cooked lunch and made one of the salads for supper, and went to therapy and did two loads of laundry and tidied my house and made a ham dinner for company with two kinds of salad and I ironed cloth napkins and used the good dishes and none of this stressed me out.  None of it.  Somewhere in there I had time for a long heartfelt talk with my husband's stepdad, a talk that will have me surprised for the rest of my life.

At one point, I thought "Wow.  So nice to have a day where I feel like I'm back." but then I realized it's more than that.  It's never been effortless for me to have a day like this.  There's always freaking out or stressing out or worrying that something won't be good enough - the buns will be stale or the juice will be the wrong kind or something will be too hot or too cold. There was none of that today and I just want to say:

I am deeply, deeply grateful.

Friday, December 07, 2012

"Ebb and flow, as all things must."

so after Tuesday's post (was it Tuesday?  It may have been Monday.) I had a counselling appointment on Wednesday morning.  I was not looking forward to it.  I don't like being needy, and really, I need what this psychologist has to offer.  She is kind and competent and I trust her to know more about what I need to get through this darkness than I do myself.

I still didn't want to go, because I knew I was looking at an hour and a half of forcing myself to look at my pain.  I walked in full of dread ...

...and walked out into light, thanking God with every exhale, because something had shifted, because I knew more than when I walked in, and because what I left with was the ability to extend both grace and compassion to myself.

It's not always like that, but it was like that Wednesday, and I really just wanted to make a note of it.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012

Titles are hard.

My sister-in-law, talking about losing her mother, recently wrote:

I will go on singing, and the grief in my voice will only make it richer.

I need to believe that, that grief will make my voice richer.  I want so badly to not have a voice, to not have memory, to fall asleep and wake up and my beloved, loving mother-in-law will still be here, and the person who is darkest in my recovered memories will be again what they were to me, all my growing up years.  Loss layers on loss, and grief is my close companion, these days, and I cannot even begin to articulate how much I hate that, on this day of sunbright snow and kind strangers and a warm dog to welcome me home.  Today my husband smiles at me as he leaves for work, smiles with his entire heart in his face, and A brings me an essay she's written for English and B bounds up and down the stairs, long and lean and capable, and I try, I do my best, but my best, some days, today, is subdued, and I want to be here, I want to be present in my life but being present hurts, it hurts so much.

And yet.  I know that walking away from the hurt will not help me, and so I pray for courage, and I pray that the people I love will know that I love them even on the dark days, and I look forward to the light.