A Good Day.

Today was a good day, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and was in fact rather mundane. For most people it wouldn’t be much worth mentioning, only today as I watched the sunset from the dock I noticed something. I was aware of something that I don’t think has happened in almost 15 months, not since Rene’s death. Today was a good day.

The whole day was a good day. Until today even on my best days, there were large portions of the day spent in intense pain. While there has still been really amazing moments in my life they have landed in between tears, heartache, body pain, and sadness. Like being on a roller-coaster the peaks of  happiness have been there, but without fail emptiness follows only a breath behind. Life in extremes; good-to-bad-to-OK-to-hurt, to intense joy or sever sadness, mixed with some rage and laughter. My emotional pendulum swinging all over with little rhythm or consistency. My mood shifting like that of an infant.

Only today was different.

Today I felt whole. I felt steady all day.    I only wore my baseball hat for a bit and it was actually to avoid dealing with my messy hair not to make it easier avoiding eye contact as per usual. Instead of trying desperately to not be noticed I had witty banter with the guy at the vets, his dog an angel while Ollie was of course acting a fool. I wasn’t dreading the evening, not searching for something to do or someone to see. I even felt strong and at ease in my personal yoga practice which I have mostly avoided since the accident. The level of intimacy with myself in practice has been overwhelming so I have struggled with it. Only today I practiced like I used to, just ‘cause it felt good.  

Feeling peaceful or content was something I took for granted before. Through the ups and downs of life I still knew that centered place. But today may have been the first day since Rene’s death that I would say I was at peace.

Epic! I have worked so hard, so very very hard for this moment. I have showed up day-in and day-out facing whatever was coming up that day with the hope that one day there would be nothing left to face. That one day there would be space for me to just be. Today I got a glimpse. Of course in the noticing I was taken back a bit, but mostly by profound gratitude.

I was sent an article in the very early days written by a widow. I was sent this particular article by many people so I thought I would read it. Mostly I don’t read works of others grieving as it rarely serves me. However, on that day I started to read and in the first few lines she said she was opening his ashes 14 months after his death. I freaked out and slammed my laptop closed. How dare they send me that? Apparently it got better and was really inspirational, but I wouldn't know I never looked at it again. For me at the time I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I would still be living this at 14 months. It hadn’t crossed my mind that in a year I would still be hurting. I hadn’t much thought passed the day I was in and the realization that I would be in that kind of pain for extended amounts of time made me want to end it all. I could not imagine a day where I would be OK again. But over time I have found hope, I have found enough moments of good to keep the faith alive, and today is a day worth noticing.  

A friend shared from his own experience that at some point your life without them becomes full and complete. In that it is hard to even imagine a life with them, one not better than the other, only the one you are living is the only real one. There isn't such a sense of loss or void. 

Today I am open to that possibility. While I still thought about him I was different. He's the only one who would really find how Ollie was at the vet funny, I saw a sign on the hyw he would have loved, heard him in a song, spoke to him when I was at the lake, and ran into a friend who took us down memory lane. See I think of that man constantly, only today it felt different.  

Today for the whole day I didn’t feel broken or like something was drastically off, I just felt normal.

Normal has never felt so good.

I know there are people who are struggling that are reading my words and this is what I need you to know. It does change. I promise you, stay with it, drudge through the sinking sand of hurt. Do the work, time will help you but you have to help yourself. You must face it day-after-day, do your best, and one day, one day you will have a moment of good. And then one day you will have an entire day of peace and that my love is worth all the fucking work you will have done.

Now as I write you I am crying... But it's different. It is in real honor of all I have done to get here, and in awe of the human spirit. Face the thing, it is the only way to set yourself free.

~with all my  love.