In 2012 I learned a lot of things. I learned how to crochet little baby hats with ears and horns. I learned the process and ceremony of dressing a stag in the forest in the fourteenth century. I learned at least a couple dozen symbols for alchemical mercury. I learned that I am smarter than I thought I was, more stubborn than I expected, and more vulnerable than I ever imagined. Most unexpectedly (because who ever expects something like this) I learned about grief. Grief hurts more than broken limbs, severe cuts, migraines, infections, any other pain I've ever felt. Grief is blind pain.
I went blind. I couldn't see my own confidence anymore. I couldn't find my optimism. I lost sight of my strengths. I started groping in the fog for distractions, tricks to keep me from facing reality. I made unfair demands on people who were unprepared or unwilling to deal with my broken self. I turned my back on the people who loved me unconditionally and only wanted to see me happy. I complicated everything. My poor choices were like a drug. I didn't have to cry over my grief if I could cry over my own self pity. It didn't matter if I was drunk or dramatic, I numbed myself. In a grotesque way, while I didn't do this, I think I understand now why people cut themselves. The damage I was doing to myself caused me to both feel something, and kept me from feeling anything at the same time. I kept breaking myself to keep myself from feeling the sting of healing. God, our minds are messed up things.
When all the bullshit finally stank enough for me to climb out of my mess, I couldn't believe what I'd done or what I'd become. I was just animated pain. A walking, talking, barely breathing, mass of gasping crying pain. My people who love me tell me not to be embarrassed, but it's going to take a while before I finally forgive myself for the damage I caused.
I'm trying very hard not to make this read like an amateur self-help post, or worse, an angsty journal entry. But this situation sucked. It really really sucked! You can't truly understand tragedy until it tears away at your heart.
I still don't know what makes it better. Time, I suppose. But I'm starting to remember, or rediscover, the things that make me feel good.
Prayer, or meditation or affirmations or whatever. Connecting to the part of life that is quieter and more meaningful than the surface. I rediscovered prayer and I'm grateful for it. It's getting easier.
Love. That complicated, inexplicable thing that naturally falls into place. The love of my family, my friends, my husband. The greatest feeling is reawakening to real love.
Confidence. Not doubting everything, especially myself. And remembering to listen to my truth.
Acceptance. Lord, grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
This is a hard week. Jordan's birthday is on Wednesday. The end of February marked six months. My family and I still wake up in that thick fog of the nightmare. We all still make blind mistakes. Sometimes the pain still feels unbearable. But I'm finally starting to open my eyes and see the glint that will eventually line the fog silver. The pain sometimes starts to feel like the raw type that comes with healing.
Thank you so much to my people. To the ones who have held me delicately when I kept trying to crumble. To the people who patiently helped glue me back together. To those who will start over and over and over picking up the pieces of me when I start to fall apart. Thanks for seeing me when I couldn't see a thing.
Here's to scabs and scars. Healing is messy business.
