Where To Start

 I was seeing a therapist for the last several months, but they are taking a sabbatical from practicing, so I am taking a sabbatical from therapy. I'm trying to find my way through life currently, and while it occasionally feels overwhelming, I've also survived 100% of my worst days - so there's that! 

I'd like to start writing again, but I'm also not entirely sure how to collect my thoughts. I tend to have these great ideas to write about, but then when I sit down to actually start, the idea of *actually* writing is overwhelming. I'm just not sure where to start. Maybe a daily prompt would help get the ball rolling. 

Well, I can't find one I like, so lets just recap some things going on in my life. I have reconnected with a friend from high school, and it was really nice just getting a coffee and chatting about how both of us have no idea how we got where we are in our lives. I've also reconnected with another friend I used to be so close with, and it's like a breath of fresh air having them back in my life. 

I've also started creating some space in a relationship that used to be very close - for my own mental health. It has been morphing into a one sided relationship, where all they do is talk and vent and ask for things. I've been exceptionally accommodating for many years, but my tolerance and patience has worn thin. So I've been less accommodating, and they have acknowledged that they are not being a great friend and promised to do better. One week after said promises, and nothing has changed. They acknowledged that too, but they also said that they are going to treat themselves with grace, that they are doing the best they can, and that is all they can offer at this time. So I have taken a step back and will give myself a little space and grace to admit that I'm exhausted and need a break. 

Things with J continue to move along at a comfortable pace. We hold space for each other and support each other while facing life's trials, together. I feel like I really do have a partner, a safe space, and that I have the right person in my life. We still have a few obstacles to get over before we can be together publicly, mostly of my own doing, but we are working through those too. 

There's always good with the bad. And I'm willing to acknowledge both! 

You Don't Make Me

 You Don't Make Me

You don't make me smile.

You don't make me feel safe. 

You don't make me a better person.

You don't make me happy. 

But you look at me with such a warmth in your gaze I can't help but smile. 

You hold me in your arms and as I breathe you in I feel completely safe in your embrace. 

You listen patiently and hold my hand as I work my way out of generations of trauma and hurt, growing into the best version of myself. 

You look at me, you hold me, you listen to me... and my heart swells and occasionally overflows out of my eyes with what can only be called respect, gratitude, and joy. 

You don't MAKE me feel or do anything... but you show up everyday, exactly as you are and allow me to show up, exactly as I am... 

And it just works. 

Anniversary #8

Today is supposed to be a monumental historical day. 02-22-22. Lots of fanfare about it being a once in a lifetime event, angel numbers galore, and it being a day of opening intuition and spiritual awareness.

But my heart just feels heavy. It's the 8 year anniversary of finding Joe post suicide by shotgun. It's also the 17th anniversary of my favorite Aunt passing away. I've been teetering on the verge of tears all afternoon, and I want nothing more than a hug from J. That isn't possible this evening, as Ding Dong is going to a movie with a friend. He has no idea what today means to me, even though I have reminded him on multiple occasions why this date in particular is difficult for me sometimes, so of course he has chosen this day to go out. It's not important to him, so it's not important. 

My divorce is finally getting some traction, with no help of Ding Dong. My lawyer has filed multiple motions for a default ruling on my divorce (meaning he refuses to respond or participate, so give me whatever I ask for). The motion for default is scheduled for March 9th. My hearing is scheduled for March 29th. God willing, I may actually be divorced for my birthday. I'm not holding my breath, but I'm not giving up either. We are so close to the end. It will mean BIG changes around here, but I'm ready. I'm so incredibly ready to get on with my life. He won't see it as a good thing, and that's fine. His response is not my responsibility. 

I'm hopeful that my kids don't fight with me about getting ready for bed. I just want to hide in sleep, but I can't do that until they care safely tucked in bed. 

I should do a meditation or focus on something else, but I just don't have it in me. My conversation with J was cut short today on the phone, and it made me sad too. He's dealing with his own stuff lately, and I know we have been a source of comfort for each other. He's been at a meeting and now happy hour mixer with a company he is considering joining. It's been a quieter day than normal lately, but I'm really proud of him for taking some initiative about building his career. 

Maybe I need a piece of chocolate and some brainless tv. 

Wonder Seeker

 Alright 2022. Here we are. Normally I'd do a recap of the year, but this year feels different. Rather than dwell on the past, I've decided to devote this moment to the present. 

My sister sent me a book for Christmas called Wonder Seeker. It's 52 activities to reconnect with creativity and find joy. I've decided to complete one activity a week. Whether I chronicle these adventures Here or not are yet to be determined, but its something to look forward to. 

Yay creativity and joy! Perhaps my theme for 2022? We shall see!

A Misunderstanding

 I can't sleep. I've had a sinking feeling since yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out why.

I reached out to Andy's wife a couple days ago to offer her what I have of Andy's books. She politely declined. I then saw she had posted a request for snail mail, and I asked if I could participate. She said yes, but seemed confused/irritated that I would want to. She then admitted she thought I was intentionally not speaking to her at the visitation. 

Oh God. No, no, no... I told her it wasn't intentional by any means! There were a couple times I moved to approach her, but she moved away - I took it as a non-verbal "I've had enough" and didn't want to press. She took it as me snubbing her. I'm glad I had the chance to clear the air, and she said she was glad it was a misunderstanding of the situation. 

I've felt pretty awful about it since. On what I can only assume is one of the hardest, saddest days of her life, by being respectful of her space in my mind, I was intentionally being hurtful in hers. 

I do know that I was stuck in my own head for a good chunk of the time I was there. It was awkward and overwhelming, seeing people I haven't seen or spoken to in 20+ years... most of which were friends of my sister anyways. I will forever have the label of "Becky's Little Sister." The intimidation factor alone of just being there was enough to make me cling to a corner and stick with familiar faces. If she reached out to talk and I somehow missed the cue, I feel horrible just thinking about it. 

As I am working on some self awareness, I acknowledge that I may have inadvertantly fucked up. However, I also know myself, and I don't have the capability of intentionally shitting on a grieving widow at a visitation. It was a misunderstanding on both our parts, and beating myself up about how I shoulda/coulda done things differently doesn't change it. I explained myself and offered to get coffee sometime as an invitation for friendship. 

I'd love to be able to sleep though. Not so much while I'm on the couch. This Christmas was a quiet one and a pretty weird one. We are all quarantined and separated and I miss my family. I miss J too. I pulled off a Christmas feast on the fly, and had enough to share. Spent some time playing animal crossing online with one of my coworkers. It will be nice to have the following week off of work too. Maybe I just need to get out of my head and relax. Holidays stress me out, and after a major covid scare, I'm pretty tapped out emotionally. Covid fatigue, as the kids are calling it. 

Joy/Grief

 Well, I made it through the viewing without losing my cool. I kept my past to myself, tho I'm sure Andy would have loved to see his brothers face should they find out. We used to joke about it when he was alive. 

I stayed after almost an hour talking with a dear friend outside. We talked about anything and everything and I admitted to her how I was feeling... and why. I then told her that I felt like I was an imposter since I had so much joy in my life, and so much to be thankful for... why did it feel like another sucker punch to feel such grief too?

She said my feelings were valid, even though I've moved on and am in a healthy, happy relationship. I had it stuck in my head that I could either feel grief, or I could feel joy - but not both at the same time. Then today I stumbled across the following quote:

I have so much to learn about my own emotional complexity. 

I thanked J today for always being a safe place for me. He said "that's how it's supposed to be." But I told him that sometimes I forget, and I want him to know that I see it and moreso appreciate it. He is so gentle and patient with me, and I'm just starting to get comfortable with ADMITTING that this is exactly what I need and deserve. THIS is what it's supposed to be like. 

I can feel exceptional joy for the love I experience in the present, while I mourn the loss of someone I cared about in the past.

Dying Is Easy, Young Man. Living Is Harder

 I've had the words of George Washington's character in Hamilton ringing in my ears this week. Burning into my brain, making my eyes sting with tears...

"Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder."

Andy has died. He has finally succumbed to the cancer that attacked his body for years. He survived well beyond his expected expiration date, but the last couple months the cancer grew with a vengeance. I would read his blog here and there over the course of the last several years - since the breakup in July of 2018, just to keep up on how he was. To bare silent witness to his growth, his failures, his love, and his fears. I had a feeling something was wrong. So I checked it within minutes of him posting on December 10th. 

It would be his final post. He died December 12th. 

I found out via social media... much as I once feared I would. Exactly as I feared I would, actually. The viewing is Friday, the funeral Saturday. I have been absolutely overwhelmed emotionally. I grieved losing him as a friend back in 2018 once, and his passing has ripped those wounds back open again. They hurt in a different way now, but they still hurt. To torture myself further, I reread through several of our email correspondence. My outpouring of support as I begged him to still be my friend. His actions speaking louder than any of his words ever did. My overwhelming need for his approval/attention was classic of my codependency, and as he gave me a literal laundry list of my "not enough-ness" that gutted me in the moment, I realize now that it was a gift. A shove in the direction of self care that NO man would ever hold that type of power over my feelings of self worth again. 

And though it has been a bumpy road, I have stayed true to that lesson. My self worth is NOT dependent on anyone else's opinion of me. I never got the chance to tell him that I had filed for divorce. He would have been proud... but whats more important is that *I'm* proud of taking those steps. I've been doing the hard work and getting things done. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

I am embracing the living, even as I pursue the path of teaching others to embrace the dying. I am called to be a Persephone, listening to the stories as souls cross from this realm to the next. If reading Andy's story all these years has taught me anything, it's that it isn't about me. None of it was ever about me. It's about listening and bearing witness and being present. These are not easy to do, and they are learned traits. I fail often, but I continue to try. The living is in the trying. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Andy's new wife must now learn to navigate life without her partner. Their relationship was so whirlwind that I can only imagine the shock of it suddenly being over for her. Actually, I may have an inkling of what that might feel like, on a much smaller scale. My heart hurts for his little boy, who must now navigate life without his father. Andy loved his child above all else, and I know that his son will grow up knowing just how loved he really was/is. But being a little kid who doesn't really understand in the moment is brutal. 

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.

Andy is on to his next adventure. The hard part is over for him. 

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I told J that a former friend had died. I used gender neutral pronouns when talking about the visitation and funeral, as I didn't want to get into "who this was." I told him that I was nervous and uncomfortable and just feeling "a lot" about it. His recommendation was that if me going would bring comfort to myself or someone else, that I should go. I told him he was right, as he usually is, haha. "The persons brothers might appreciate me stopping in and giving them my condolences. I guess I'm just nervous about going, and worried I'll regret it if I don't." His response stopped me in my mental tracks. 

"No harm in going I suppose right? He can't hurt you."

He can't hurt you. It's true. The only one hurting me in this moment, is me. The residual anger and resentment, the fear of not belonging at his visitation, it's all just in my own mind. No one is "doing" anything to me. It's my own self letting those old feelings of upset push forward, instead of allowing the gifts and appreciation rise up. I know it is all part of the grieving process (again) but I also feel more at peace within myself this time around. 

He can't hurt me.

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.