I confess, I don’t know what the difference is between being a strong person and just continuing to go on because you have no choice. There have been ugly moments that shame me over the past few weeks when people have so kindly told me I was handling things well and I wanted to ask “What choice do I have? Can I choose not to feed the children? To wash the clothes and sweep the floor? Can I walk around crying all the time or refuse to get out of bed?”
Of course, I could very well just simply refuse to go on, but I do. There are so very many good reasons why and I could list them for you like I could recite the laws of motion, but the truth is these days I don’t feel big, noble emotions, instead I follow a routine and do what I’ve always done. Perhaps that’s why I balk at being told I am handling things well, because I feel like I’ve handed everything over to a machine while I wait to see what happens next. At night, I walk through the house, straightening out the mess of the day and preparing things for the one to come and it feels like I’m not enough of a presence to even make a wave in the oppressive stillness.
If I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s this, you live in the moment and the days, the weeks, the years take care of themselves. And that is how I go on, letting my defenses take over and what I am doing in the moment, is all there is. I play with the children, I keep up the house, I talk to people, then like a bolt, I am ripped in two, and one half goes on and the other is watching and wondering how it could seem so normal on the surface, when clearly things are not right, not right at all.
This grief and anguish have lessons to teach me, but I’m not ready to learn them, not yet. When given the opportunity, my thoughts come so fast and jumbled that I’m not able to make sense of what my memories want me to hold on to and where my heart wants me to go. I’ve felt frantic trying to figure out what the purpose and meaning of this is and what I should do next, but the harder I try to grasp it, the less sense it makes. It is only when I relax and am content with letting every thought and emotion flow through without making demands that I feel any relief.
And this is how I go on; I don’t know if it means I am staying strong or handling things well, it’s just the way I’m keeping it all together. I’m not happy, I’m not okay, I’m tired and numb but I feel like there is a protective cocoon around me that will keep me safe until it’s time to fly again.




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