Breathing Through one Moment at a Time.....

Better day today. Every 'better' day is an achievement.

I went to a trade show the beginning of February. I saw a friend of mine whom I've known since fourth grade, we grew up together, and we laughed, we cried, and did all of that grieving bonding stuff with far too much red wine. It was more healing than I can even find words to tell you. It was very good!

The trade show was intense. 12 hour days, so much mental and visual stimulation I felt brain-dead at the end of every day. It was fun, but also was very much about me finding my way and trying to be steady with that, whilst navigating this new territory that is 'Life Without Alex'. That was really hard, continues to be hard. But I know Alex was (and is) very proud of me for my work, what I am doing and for finding a job that I love so much. It isn't an important job in the world, or the big picture, but I'm good at it, and it gives me pleasure. And that matters.

At the show, it was and is still now, like being on a teeter-totter, or a roller-coaster. Times it was fun, and great, and I felt confident, knew what I was doing, and felt strong. Laughed a lot. Stayed steady. Made good choices, was decisive, and knew what was needed, and met that need. I was observing myself, watching how I was moving through the experience, one month after my brother died.....As it was then, two months into it now, it is the same: Some days I am okay, some days not so much. I am great in certain moments, and a basket case in others.

I'm trying to grasp what this process is. It is so foreign, so wrong, so hard....sometimes it is like a gaping, yawning abyss opens up before me, unannounced, and very suddenly. I watch myself emotionally windmilling my arms, standing on the precipice of the deep hole of grief, trying to catch my balance and desperately striving for balance, as I teeter on that edge. It comes without warning, so the ability to steel myself, to be prepared or to find coping mechanisms is pointless. I cant.

I cant.

Better day today. It was ok. I went through the motions and got busy at work and actually enjoyed it. That is good. Mostly I can cope. But then in the afternoons, when I've put all of my energy into creating a semblance of constancy and normalcy, I get tired. All of my energy goes into maintenance. Into putting one foot in front of the other and I focus on that. It is just that when I am side-swiped by the abyss that I falter.... And in the evenings, when I come home, there is simply nothing left. The day I don't panic is a good day.

What's beautiful about this process, and also very hard, as a double edged sword, is the sadness and grief of the people in my community, and their desire to share their feelings with me. Their expression of support is a great gift. But a burden too....It happens most days. Today a former client came into the store and asked after Alex. I had to tell him what happened. He hadn't known. He was stunned. Gutted. We said the obligatory sad things, the sharing of shock, the welling of tears, and then he said, "I think I need to go away now and think about this...." And he left crying. I'm left standing there with my work to do, and my business to conduct like a 'normal' person who's life has not been freshly reminded of a missing limb. Of a heart torn right out of my being.....

And then later, shopping for supper at the grocery store, I encounter another person who hugs me, kisses me, expresses her condolences, eyes welling, and I am comforted, but likewise newly grief stricken. Like a bandage that keeps being ripped off the wound. A wound which bleeds constantly. And I find myself needing to be strong for them. Needing to Offer them support. And I'm not equipped to do so. But I pretend. I go through the motions..... I receive their kindness, their sincere offers of heart-felt sorrow at this great loss, and I go away from the encounter feeling loved, and feeling equally bereft and stripped bare.

Days off, I sleep. I curl up on the couch and watch tv. The day I did panic, and ended up in the hospital (last week - heart palpitations, dizziness, crying uncontrollably for 7 hours, I thought I was literally losing my mind, cracking up, done for.) I was told that everything I am feeling and experiencing is 'normal'. Jesus wept. They gave me a pill, were kind to me, gave be a bag to breath into when I needed it, and then let me sleep. The difference was, I felt not alone, and I felt understood and comforted. I felt absolutely heard, understood, and had permission to fall apart and not be strong for anybody. They were strong for me. Bless them. They were there for me. Which when push comes to shove, in a crisis, I do not feel, at home. B is not one for 'feelings'. I have to take care of myself. So that's what I did. That's what I do.

Today was a better day. I didn't freak out. I got through it, and did well. One step at a time. One moment at a time.

I will heal. I will move forward, and I will get strong again. It is just going to take some time.... I'm making it up as I go along, and I don't really know what to do in any given moment. I just have to breathe, breathe, breathe deep, and be grateful for days that are ok.....

For those of you who knew me in my former blog before it was stolen, as 'Chupaflor' know this: This Hummingbird will fly gain. I just need to be in my nest a while; hunker down, be very quiet and heal. Its gonna take some time.....

Bird.