My Take on Life: Grief is Unexpressed Love

The last few weeks have been filled with revelations. There are so many rocky roads in the grief walk I repeatedly find myself buried in dirt up to my ears. Every day, over the last few years, I've woken up with a pit in my stomach. There were many times I didn't think life was worth living. Two weeks ago, while driving my car, I realized that the grief I felt was love with nowhere to go.  You give love to your kids, your friends, your dogs and to yourself. This, however, was a love I shared with another human being that had nowhere to go. So, it sat inside of me causing tremendous pain. 

I also became crazy furious. I relived every angry moment we survived during our marriage. No marriage is perfect. No marriage, no partnership, comes without pain. Within that pain, forgiveness must be born and understanding if you ever hope to be whole again. Understanding is so important and through that complete forgiveness. I am so grateful to have survived the fury. When it hits it is crushing and you become vulnerable and easy prey to bad decision making. I felt out of control, and I certainly wasn't thinking straight. At one point, around 3 am a week or so ago, I found myself in the hallway, screaming at the top of my lungs. I just sat there and screamed, over and over and over again. My throat is still raw. 

Which is why my reactivated blog was ignored for a few weeks. 

I also relived the moments we could have been together and weren't. Either by his choice or mine. I wanted that time back. I wanted to scream at him even smack him. How dare he take one second away from us. How dare he yell at me, swear at me, do anything to hurt me. How dare I do anything to hurt him? I have to say, I never saw the anger coming. However, the anger part is real and very debilitating. It took everything out of me, but out of the ashes, hope was born. The anger was cathartic, transformational. It gave me back my life and supported my decision to live again. Anger is an important emotion to experience. If not the most important. 

I realize I know nothing of this world. There are so many things I don't know that I test the water carefully and pull back when I've overstepped. With learning comes great joy. I wake up in the morning no longer depressed. I might feel stupid, but there is even joy in stupidity. I don't have anyone setting boundaries for me. I get to set my own. I am completely independent, and I love the joy that brings me. Even when I'm stupid. Because it is my stupidity and I get to own it. 

I am thankful to my friends who have shown me which roads not to take. I am thankful to my kids who remind me to swing away, or gently whisper in my ear to take a time out. I am sure people find me odd and that is OK. I could have ended up in the house alone and watching TV. I could have stopped my blog and even quit writing. I am curious about life. I want to know what people think. I want to know what makes them tick. I love hearing other people's stories. I spent months searching for the perfect place to write. I discovered I love to watch the birds and listen to them sing from the swing in my backyard. Except for Blue Jays. They are prickly creatures. There is such peace in my yard and peace is a blessing. My swing is the perfect place to write. Not sure what I'll do about winter. 

In the beginning of my grief walk, I was a widow who showed up at a kayaking event with a canoe. I was scared, frightened and very much alone. I'm not that person anymore. I've conquered every challenge I've set for myself. Now, instead of being the lady who thinks a canoe is a kayak, I'm some lady down the street who threw one hell of a party Friday night. 

I even had a party crasher show up. 

Now that was something. 

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