This turning point I’ve had this week, the renewing, the rediscovery, the freedom… I’m learning what it doesn’t mean.
It doesn’t mean I’m an extrovert now.
It doesn’t mean I can meet a million friends for coffee.
It doesn’t mean I can set myself free from the daily boundaries I’ve set in place.
It doesn’t mean I have more words to say in any given conversation.
It doesn’t mean anxiety didn’t creep right up on me, in a very uninvited way this week.
It doesn’t mean I’ll abandon prescriptions and my better living through chemistry.
Here’s what it means:
It means I’ve come to terms with that fact that Robb died, he isn’t coming back, and I am free to live.
That’s what it means.
That’s all it means.
And that’s enough.
I do not know why, but I laughed aloud… in recognition, perhaps… at this list. I almost hesitate to tell people, publicly, that I’m well and happy, or am even at home from a trip, or have finished a difficult deadline, for fear that they may think I’m available as BFF, Party Girl, or Nurturer to the Universe again. I so get this!
That’s a big step! Everything is a process. One step at a time. You’re doing great! And believe me, there will still be days when a reminder takes your breathe away.
I think about you every. single. day. Doug and I have been apart for a little over three months now as I have moved to NC and he and his job are still in CO. Long story, but I haven’t been getting paid my full salary so we were unable to purchase any plane tickets. My boys and I didn’t see him from August 11th until November 1st, when a company flew him here for an interview. Before his visit, there were times that I didn’t want to get out of bed, that my kids were so bad I felt sick to my stomach b/c I just wished THEY would go to bed…and we can SKYPE Doug every evening. Having him back beside me for two days this past weekend was beyond words wonderful, but letting him leave again was TORTURE. I am in incredible AWE of the work you do and the grace you extend to yourself every day, knowing how paralyzing it is to deal with my own sadness, which, I know, is incomparable to yours. I love that you can still love. You are my hero right now.