It would have been a hard weekend if all had gone well. But all did not go well and I am on the other side of it. My head aches, my stomach is both tight and churning. And although I slept the night hard with a loving dream of an old professor’s praise for a new child, I awoke exhausted. I could have dropped Julia off at school and ducked beneath the covers. I didn’t. I know my blue moods. This one did not creep up. It was a definite possibility from the start. Though I prepared and hoped it would not to come to fruition, the aftermath could not be unexpected.
I have no fear for what feels so fragile at the moment. I will recover; however, I must be attentive to my needs. And that was today and probably part of tomorrow.
Not climbing back to bed, I spend time in the garden. Weeding which is both mundane and healing. I worked out at the gym although I took everything a notch down and did not to do more minutes, more reps, more weight than I had done a month ago. Even now I can feel how the exercise physically tired me. Blessed exhaustion.
I needed to put food in the house, Julia needed driving to therapy and her cello practice buddy comes over tonight, but I can heat up leftover meatballs and red sauce and Make quick salads. While I shopped for food, I felt myself turtle slow. I will not expect any other speed this evening.
I am grieving a small patch of joy. This is nothing like grieving a dead husband, but I recognize the process. There may be healing here and putting the egg back together. Perhaps. Eggs are never the same glued together, but I hold out the possibility of perhaps.
I am surprised by the depth of my reaction. How much heart I have invested in this venture. But I do not, cannot regret feeling deeply, extending my heart and risking pain. It is the living out loud that I intended to do. I will, if I can, put the great egg back together again. Risk more and not bolt. This will not be easy.
For tonight, I will write an Italian friend and tell her I’ve bought plane tickets, I will page through a guide book or two and take notes on possible delights, I will do my Italian language practice. Just the thought of Italy puts tears in my eyes. Tears for the pains, tears acknowledging that this time will pass. A few tears when the remembered sunlight of southern Tuscany.
And then, I will sleep.
5 thoughts on “just hard”
I agree. You are a wonderfully soothing writer. I read your blog during the barely awake moments when I’m pondering life. I am dealing with the loss of a loved one. At times it seems I can’t go on. Before this loss, we began baby-making then adoption. While I wait I try to imagine what type of mother I will be. I will be an older mom by some standards, though the process has taken a very long time…longer than I ever imagined it would. My youth seems to have slipped away. I am afraid. But my life will not be complete, I think, without being a mom.
you give me great hope. Thank you. Sharing the bliss, sadness, and hum of your days is not lost on me.
Your comment touches my heart. (I never know whether anyone whose comments I respond to ever sees the responses. I see I have your email address and I will send you a copy of this.)
I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t put myself in your shoes but for myself, those days when I felt I couldn’t go on alone were the worst. And they did seem to go on and on and on. The wonderful, seemingly effortless days of joy were ripped from my calendar. Meanwhile, I had Julia to care for and a new life to figure out. Sometimes, I think I lost a few years of her growing up. I wonder if we ever had fun? Was I a decent mother to her during those awful days? I think of all I could have done to make her life better, things, especially social things, that I just couldn’t bring myself to do. But ya’ know, we do our best! Your youth and Julia’s growing did not just slip away. You have gathered experiences from your world and your challenge is to use those experiences. Suck them dry, feel them deeply and be who you want to be!
I am preparing to tell a story about my life to a group I am facilitating next week. I have grown very aware of how much of my life has been about exploring disability–not something that I have really wanted to claim. But there it is. I performed Alice in Wonderland at a school for kids with autism when I was 20, my first play was called “Talkin’ Disfluency Blues,” I reviewed IDEA cases about autism and eduction for the Indiana Federal Court, I traveled to VietNam to help a friend with her adoption long before we considered adopting. And there is so much more. Each experience piling one upon another brought me closer to Julia. Who knew? Who could have guessed?
I don’t believe in a micro-managing god who arranges lives, but I do believe in using all of the experiences of a life to inform life. You know sorrow and eventually that sorrow will inform your joy. You know fear and eventually that fear will be the basis of your strength. You know longing and eventually you will meet the child whose longing will be much greater than yours. You will recognize it and your soul will make the giant leap of love.
If my writing gives you a little bit of hope, then I am so happy to be writing! And so happy that you found me! Your message have given me a little bit of mindful joy this morning!
You write so beautifully… so poignant and gentle. xod
Yes, let’s talk soon, Jan. And thanks for the thoughts. I needed them yesterday.
Thinking of you… (Though, a seems to be my habit with everyone) not showing it very well. Talk soon?