My new reality, yet to set in.

It’s been a little over 3 weeks since I moved and I’m dealing with a lot of grief.  I would say I’m in the denial stage at the moment, but slowly coming out of it.  The fun and excitement of something new has been interweaved with the realities of getting settled, feeling homeless, carless, jobless…and often feeling alone.  I’ve done this before and I know it will pass, but what seems most challenging is adjusting to a new reality.  My life at the moment does not include daily surf sessions, gorgeous weather every day and a life full with amazing friendships.  I am in the middle of a city, feeling slightly trapped and lost.  How I spend my days will differ for now.  What I value is being outside, nature and friends  – I know that awaits me, perhaps just not at the moment.  I can and will find that again it may just look different.

I try to tell myself this is part of the transition process and to take it day by day.  I am not where I want to be and I’m not sure when I will be but I got to have faith.  I came here to find love and career inspiration – when I remember this it brings me comfort and reminds me of why I made such an abrupt move.  All this takes courage and strength and a willing to take risks.  I trust my desires will be honored and come to fruition.

I know Hawaii waits for me, as I wait for it.  The sacrifices I’ve made seem overwhelming right now but I trust this is exactly where I’m supposed to be, without a doubt.  I take it day by day, trusting in myself and the process of letting go and being open to new experiences.

 

This Tornado loves you*

photo by Darryl Torckler/The Image Bank/Getty Images

I’ve lost sight in these past few days, possibly weeks, of who I am and what I want to be (as a person).  Caught up in my swirling thoughts, I have been running, trying to figure out what is next.  In this confusion, I have created inner and outer turmoil.  I feel like a tornado, lost in the spinning, pulling those in around me and dizzying them into confusion.

There has been a lot of change in the past couple of weeks and I am trying to learn to sit and wait for a new path to emerge.  Instead of chasing after something to fill the empty space and distract me from the anxiety of the unknown, I want to just sit.  It’s unlike me and I fear complacency and sloth.

It hit me today that it will be a year my mother died in just a few weeks.  Will I be okay?  As I sit here and write, I do wonder.  The grief can hit you like a tidal wave and drown all your senses in pain.

Almost a year, hard to believe.  The pain hasn’t gone away, though it has lessened.  I’ve had dreams and memories of her lately, though even more so, longing.  I long for a mother.  Not the one who raised me but the mother I’ve needed and wanted for so, so very long.

* Song by Neko Case

New Year, still me. Thank goodness.

How do I express that everything has changed, yet nothing at all?  Accepting that life will never be what it was.  With the New Year, I wanted to leave the sadness and grief of my mothers’ death behind, embarking on a new year with new expectations on myself and the future.  But that doesn’t change me.  All the intentions and determination in the world cannot change who I am in the moment.  You cannot command the grieving process or feelings to act in a certain way.  If only it were that easy.

I wanted to push the past behind me, move forward.  And in many ways I have.  I have accepted the past several months were difficult and painful: that some areas in my life were put on hold.

In a world where progress is measured in success and “moving on”, it’s difficult to honor the grieving process as work in itself.  I may not have been as productive in certain areas as I could have been, but I was (and am) working my ass off in other ways: grieving (action word).  If only you could put that on your resume.

In some ways I’m surprised that I Continue reading

Merry Christmas?

Hard to believe it’s Christmas already.  I wish it were more merry, but why should I expect that?  It’s our first Christmas without my mother.  I had high expectations on myself, that I could be cheery and upbeat, helping out with Christmas dinner or sprucing up the house.  But when in the house, I can’t seem to do more than lay around, paralyzed and overwhelmed by grief.  Reminders of her are everywhere; who she was fills the rooms and hallways.

It would be too severe to say I am where I left off after she died.  What has occurred is the reality of her death has slammed me in the face.  I feel in shock, stunned by the finality of it all.  The emptiness that remains.  The house is definitely not the same without her here and there is no way I can hide from the stark reality that she will never be back.  I want to run out the door, leaving everything behind and never come back.  But I can’t.

It is easier to forget when you are far away.

Bored of myself

I haven’t written for a while, mostly because I’m tired of writing about my recent sadness.  I’m tired of being sad.  I’m tired of wondering if I should be sad or if it’s okay to laugh and smile.  I’d rather not write at all than continue on expressing painful feelings.

When I went on a run today I was thinking about what it would be like to reach out into the world more.  I’m used to working hard and have always been proud of my professional and personal accomplishments.  They have not come easy.  But reaching out, whatever that means, does not come naturally to me.  So as an active gesture I decided to say, “good morning” to people I passed.  I received a response about 1 out of 5 try’s and I guess that’s okay with me.  I’m assuming at least 1/3 did not speak English and the rest thought I was gasping for air.

So it’s been two months since my mother passed.  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. No matter how many books have been written about grief (and there are many) or the advice people have, there is no formula that exists.  Grief is not linear.  What I do know is I’m feeling a little bit bored with myself.  I don’t know what is next but I’m feeling ready to move in some direction.  Maybe even forward.

My Failed Attempt to Ignore 9/11

I was going to ignore that today was 9/11.  But when I turned on the radio this morning,  it was of course the main topic of discussion, as it should be.  Then I went to a church service and it was the theme of the sermon, again, as it should be.

The incidents on 9/11 in the US were indeed horrible and we were all affected on that day.  I was in Washington, DC at the time and lived just 8 blocks from the Capitol and congressional buildings.  I didn’t have a TV so I walked down to an Irish bar that opened up it’s doors early for others like myself.  It was mostly full of hill staffers in suits.  They were streaming out of the Capitol and into the streets, walking who knows where.

It’s horrible to think of the approximately 3,000 people who died that day from the attacks.  Though what first went through my mind when I heard the preacher say that number was what about the millions who’ve died in Congo over the years of war?  Acts of terrorism in the Congo are being committed every day, particularly against women.  That is just one out of many examples of unrecognized atrocities around the world.  It is of course not a numbers game, I realize this.  It is not the death toll that matters.  Though what does seem to matter is that the voices which cry out are heard.   The US, being a superpower is of course going to have one of the loudest voices on this planet.  And even more importantly, a voice that will  most certainly be heard.

Though honestly, at this moment, I feel detached from both the deaths of 9/11 and such devastation in places like Congo.  In fact, I don’t really care.  There was a time when I would tear up thinking about such losses, but all I can think about now is the loss in my own life.  As it should be.

What I mostly thought about this morning during the sermon was I want to see my mother’s death commemorated every year on newspaper front pages and magazines.  I want NPR to spend the day discussing my mother.  I would like to see two huge beams of light streaming out of New York City in remembrance of my mom.  She had nothing to do with New York, but I want that recognition.

Realistically, I know these things will never happen, but to me, her death deserves just as much time, attention and honor.

I want to scream from the tops of New York City sky scrapers and let everyone know that my loss is greater than theirs.