Refuge in Grief – Day 27

Part two: Go through the same writings fused from Day 26.  This time highlight phrases that could be expanded, maybe they hint to something or it could be be written as it’s own story. 

Here are the results:

Day 01 –

– I think of myself in three parts: past, present, and future.

– Needing to assure myself what “is real” and “not real”

– His things still fill half of the closet we shared.

– I am okay with being nothing.

– It is a place of promises not kept, a life unfulfilled.

– Full-on with no holding back.

– ‘Working out’: It’s my release and how I deal with the anxiety of my grief.

– ‘Working’: managing this hollow life.

– Future, simplified, kids close, make room for things to come.

Day 11 –

– My brain follows paths around my grief, “no thank you!”

– “Taking it all in”.

– Reading or writing through tear-filled eyes.

– I am leaning in to the things that give me pleasure over pain.

– Choose happy or not “griefy”.

– Knee-jerk response “escape”.

– I often wonder if I now let go completely and lean in to these emotions, will I get better or worse? 

– I am afraid of being sad for too long!

– The essence of me.
What I really think…

In highlighting phrases that hint at a larger story to be told, I found these three from the above list to be the ones that made me upset:
– I am okay with being nothing. 

– I often wonder if I now let go completely and lean in to these emotions, will I get better or worse? 

– I am afraid of being sad for too long!
After 28 of 30 days in this writing course, I feel completely broken down, when and how will I be built back up, I just don’t know. I am my own worst enemy right now, and I’m done with all of my crying and not getting my shit together! I am good for no one, especially myself. What I want to do is to stand still in the dense forest of my life, and listen. I want to be alone, and push everyone out, so I can hear, so I can understand.
Earlier this evening, we had dinner out with another family, and then when we got home, my kids and I had our weekly family meeting. I sobbed at dinner as I shared updates with my good friend, and later more tears flowed at home with my kids as we talked. School ends this week, summer will officially begin, our calendar of events is just about near-full. I am completely depleted emotionally today. These tears are not so much about him, they are mostly about me. My nothingness, my letting go and finding there is no one there to catch me. I can’t hold back my endless tears because the entirety of my decision to not move and stay here for five more years for both kids to finish high school has sunk in, fully exposing my aloneness. 
After my meeting with my kids, I went for a bike ride. It was near dusk. Just a quick ride to rid myself of all the sadness and anxiety of today. Less than ten minutes in to my ride on country roads, a deer cuts across in front of me, barely 10 feet ahead. It was a flash from my right, a brown blur confirmed by the scuffing and clicking of its hooves on the pavement. I stayed my course, my heart skipped a beat, this is what I have come to expect. 
I’m pedaling as hard as my legs will allow now. I’m headed to Stillman Road. I find meaning in the roads I choose to ride on, and right now I’m thinking about what “Still Man” means tonight: a dead man, a content man, a listening man? The light is a shade duller, there are no cars. I hear a bullfrog begin its song, the distant hum of highway noise, my new bike making funny metallic rattles as I go over the occasional bump in the road. I’m at the section where trees create a canopy from both sides of the road. In the daytime, it is a welcome relief from the sun, now it is a dark abyss waiting to receive me. 
I have night blindness. That means that in the dark I lose my sense of depth, things go flat, blurry, shapes undefined. I see things differently in the dark. My other senses take over and “seeing” is helped by hearing and feeling both at higher registers. Riding on, into the canopied road, my special eyes are hard at work. As I adjust my gear to swim through this section, I look to what is ahead. There is a rise in elevation, and I’m focusing on the crest of the hill. The evening sky is the softest bird’s-egg blue, and as it falls to meet the silhouette of trees and road now, it transitions to a pink very much like me blushing when I drink wine. There is an intensity about the glow and as I stare into it, I feel it pulling me forward like a beacon. The road is losing its defined texture, I see fewer polka-dots and more grey monotone. I pedal onward. As I come full circle to tonight’s biking route, the lights of the streets now show me the way. Its a game of connect the dots, and I am imagining as I pass each light, I’m leaving behind a drawn line showing the path I have taken. I need help now more than ever, the sun has near completely set.~Paula

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