I'm back...

Wow, the last time I even glanced at this blog was over a month ago.  Is it possible that time moves that quickly?  I literally cannot keep up.  I mean literally.  When my alarm goes off in the morning, my mind is still processing the previous night's events.  That's something that fades away, right?

I've been debating what to write about in this post.  Obviously, a lot has happened.  I cannot decide if writing about it all will hurt or provide relief.

I've experienced death before.  A void in my life that will forever remain vacant.  I was too young to understand the process, but old enough to remember the details.  Old enough to realize that one day, those details would be enough to keep me connected.  This time was so different.  I'm old enough to understand the process, but fully unable to grasp the details.  The sheer weight of sorrow I hold in my heart for Steven prevents me from fully acknowledging last moments, last laughs, last memories...they are too heavy.  Even dwelling on this paragraph makes me feel like I can't quite get a full breathe.
There are flowers in the sunny spots of our living room, slowly wilting and decaying.  There's a plant that appears eternal and is full of butterfly ornaments, decorating a  once bare corner.  There's a small urn on our bedside table, suspended in a period of grief, as we attempt to find a place that provides as much beauty and remembrance as she deserves.  Here, we will linger.

Day fifty-four: This Weekend

What makes today a good day, you ask?

Well, I'll be picking up my mother from the Omaha airport around 7:05 p.m.

THAT makes today a good day.

This radiant beam of wisdom will be by my side through a FULL weekend of wedding planning.  We're talking hour-to-hour appointments booked through weekend.
THANK GOODNESS!

This will be wedding dress weekend.  So!  If you have a moment, send some nice thoughts my way.
As I told my bridesmaids, I've been dreading this day since my first diet at age eight.
Have a happy weekend!

Day fifty-three: Therapy

A year ago, I met a person whom I could finally open up to about everything.  Whom not only takes what is coming out of my mouth in strides, but changes it into a language that I can better understand.  The ability to do so, change what I'm saying and make me understand it better, is a trait that not many possess.  And I was SO thankful for her.
But then I got sick and a snowball of unexpectedly gut-wrenching events began.  AKA 2015.
Before I could even get a word in edge-wise, I'm buried deep.
Let me just say that I am VERY good at keeping it together in public.  I even catch myself doing so while talking to her.  I learned this trait early; that the world should not know your secrets, your emotions.  But behind closed doors, in front of the most important people in my life...I am a mess.
I've touched on this briefly in several other posts.  But let me assure you, I am not over exaggerating and it is f***ing ugly.
Onto the topic of today's.
There were several points brought up to me recently that helped me immensely.  I figured I'd share them, in case someone else needed to hear them as well.

• There is such a thing as "new normal" and it's ever-changing.  I chuckled at this phrase as she spoke the word.  I recently wrote a post about my normal no longer being present.  She just spun it into a prettier appearance.  There is no longer a normal as my mind holds it.  But, there is "new normal".  I'm learning to accept this and grow with it.  But that doesn't make me any less scared or fully of melancholy.
• It's all about perspective.  Not only my perspective of the situations at hand, but my perspective of situations as they arise.  I am an "emotion-jumper".  I react and then think.  I'm wincing at having typed that and planning to expel it into the universe.  I'm working on it and I've been working on it since before I can remember.  It's part of me and if I become lazy and give into myself, I get emotionally ugly.  It's all about my perspective...which requires me to take a second.
• I need to redefine what a good day is to me.  This was, by far, the biggest message I took away today.  I am a planner.  I have a schedule, to-do lists, checklists...everything.  Before I even set my feet on the floor in the morning, I've already got the next 12 hours planned out.  Combining this characteristic with my sense of what "normal" should be equals unfulfilled.  I need to take smaller strides.  I need to relish in the simple acts of what makes a day "GOOD".  Because I am missing the point entirely.  Today I woke up feeling good with one of my favorite songs stuck in my head.  That made it a "GOOD" morning.

I know this post is chaotic.  This blog has been chaotic at best lately.  I'm trying.

Day forty-six: You.

I choose you.

Day forty-three: Foggy

My health took a step backwards.  I began experiencing pain again, just as I did a year ago.  I've since come to the realization that what I felt most was likely panic, which made my pain worse.  Thus, my appointment tomorrow in which I was scheduled to begin discontinuing my medications is taking another direction.
I'm okay with taking this medication longer because it makes me feel better, I know that it has literally saved my vision and ceased much of my pain.
There is a large downside, however.
It makes me very foggy.
Like, forget what we were talking about in the middle of our conversation foggy.
It took me about 8 months to realize this issue was happening...
I had to increase my dosage over the weekend and I don't think I've had a clear thought yet.  Literally, every thought process has a cloud around it.  I cannot, for the life of me, reach a point of clarity.
It's affecting every aspect of my life.  Negatively.  It makes me very sad.  It makes me feel very lonely and worried.
The last seven days have been trying.
Truly, I could just use a hug or a pat on the back.  An acknowledgment of my effort despite what my productivity has been.
Or an eight week vacation far away from here.

Day forty: A Story I Read Today

I came across an article today on my news feed regarding something very heavy and very ugly.  It was a blog written by a mother who had last her child minutes after birth due to an expected birth defect.  This wasn't the premise of the blog, however.  She was writing because someone had informed her a person in a town that I've grown and lived in falsifying pictures of her daughter following her birth.  This woman claimed the same story, the same tagline.  She pretended that something terrible had happened to her and her family.  It was a very well written blog.  Completely acknowledging the disrespect and lack of humanity her claims had provided.  This isn't the topic of my post today, though.

I became curious of this woman's story, of the way she presented her life and her relationships...the pain, love, hope, anger.  It was all there in her words that flowed like water.  
I eventually came across a post regarding her husband following the loss of their precious baby.  
I found it very relate-able.  Not only that, but I found strength in her words.  They were giving me direction.

She admires her husband for the way he handles his grief.  Quietly and gracefully.  As she self proclaims anxiety-attacks and outwardly handling grief, she struggles to accept that he is grieving as well.  Her perception is that through his "gathered" demeanor, he is not hurting as much as she.  
Simply, her admiration for his outlook gathered my complete attention:

"But, as you have constantly reminded me this year, there is still good. If it cannot be merry, it can be good. And it is."

"You are a good man and a good husband and a good father, and it isn't fair how many times a day I fail you as a wife that you are still all of these things. You are constant. I am moved every moment that God has given me you."

Her words spoke to me in a way I did not even realize I needed to hear and made me realize a frame of mind I needed to adapt:

Let our days be gentle to us, to him.

Let us, let him, feel peace and help us remember to acknowledge our blessings.  

Let me continue to look at him and feel more love than I ever imagined possible.

Let him feel surrounded by said love, protected from reality.

Let him feel supported by the strength of our relationship.

"I love you more than I loved you yesterday, but not as much as I'll love you tomorrow."

Day thirty-nine: I'm sorry

For those who routinely check on this blog (yes, I see you and thank you), I apologize that I disappeared.  Things have been hard lately, to be honest.  Harder than before at least.  I don't really want to go into specifics.  There aren't really any  specifics anyway.  It's just the relentless, never-ending "-ness" of it all that is getting to me.
I downloaded this audio book the other day.  I've never been one for audio books, but I had a free download and figured I'd give it a try.
This is what I chose:

As you can see, the book is called Furiously Happy.  I'm not very far into it, but I have to admit...whenever I turn it on, I can't stop smiling at the irony of what I'm listening to.  The author is a woman who has struggled with pretty significant mental illness in her life.  She's FUNNY, but she is also honest.  I'm thoroughly enjoying the book and intend on reading another written by her in the future.  I recommend for those who struggle with darkness.  She does a great job at forcing in some sunlight.  Cheers!