I recently read in a book by Bob Yehling ~ solitude is the necessary companion for writing. I’m sure I’ve read that before but.... I had no idea! I have been trying for the past four and a half months to keep up on my blog and work on my manuscript while hosting a family of four in our home. I started thinking I just wasn’t meant to be a writer because I couldn’t concentrate on my words through the frequent interruptions ~ kids squabbling and running through the house, adults carrying on conversations in the next room, someone hovering at my doorway “waiting till you have a minute so I can talk to you”. OY!
So I pretty much gave up on consistency until they found another place to stay.
That time has come!
My deadline for finishing the current draft of Losing Steve: One Mother’s Journey through Grief has passed.....and I am neither finished nor dead! So now I am working on both projects (Blog and manuscript) full time as my poor, uncomplaining, and uber supportive husband wastes away from neglect. Thank goodness he has his “Mafia Wars” to keep him company!
That said, it’s been two weeks since our house guests left and I am finally finding my groove again. I didn’t realize it would take time to adjust back to my normal life! It feels good to enjoy my quiet house during the day as I work on projects, get our space back in order, and then to welcome my husband home in the evenings without others vying for his attention.
So it’s back to work for me. The Writers’ Conference is coming up in three and a half weeks. I’m hoping to be finished with this draft by then.....
Peace be with you,
Deb
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
September 30, 2004
I have felt so much more “together” lately. The pain, grief, and guilt seem be evaporating, leaving just a mist. The fog is leaving my brain. I feel happy again. Now my core is happy with the shadow of sadness, not the other way around. I don’t feel the presence of my other self as heavily as I did before. I feel liberated. Thank you Lord for guiding me to Toby! She has helped me find my way out of my prison of grief and guilt.
I was thinking back on leaving Steve when we went on vacation the June before he died and feeling bad about it, even though when I told him I decided to stay home, he insisted we all go as planned. The whole time we were gone I imagined how much better he would be by the time we returned. None of us had any understanding of how little time we had left together.
But if we hadn’t gone Amy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help him as she did. She came over every day to help him with his daily needs, and in the evening to help him get ready for bed and get him into bed. They spent time together, they talked, and she cared for him. She also took him to several doctors’ and physical therapy appointments gaining a greater understanding of what he was going through.
Though I do have misgivings about not having that time with him I am happy that Amy was able to bank even more memories of her brother, and that Steve had that special time with Amy.
And I know that we’ll be together later.
I was thinking back on leaving Steve when we went on vacation the June before he died and feeling bad about it, even though when I told him I decided to stay home, he insisted we all go as planned. The whole time we were gone I imagined how much better he would be by the time we returned. None of us had any understanding of how little time we had left together.
But if we hadn’t gone Amy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help him as she did. She came over every day to help him with his daily needs, and in the evening to help him get ready for bed and get him into bed. They spent time together, they talked, and she cared for him. She also took him to several doctors’ and physical therapy appointments gaining a greater understanding of what he was going through.
Though I do have misgivings about not having that time with him I am happy that Amy was able to bank even more memories of her brother, and that Steve had that special time with Amy.
And I know that we’ll be together later.
Friday, December 10, 2010
September 26, 2004
Amy and I have been having trouble dovetailing our schedules lately to fit in our morning walks. For the last few weeks Dave and I have been getting up early to go for a walk before he has to get ready for work.
I don’t ordinarily like to look 5:30 AM directly in the eye, so when he whispers my name into the dark room it’s a real chore to force myself out of bed. As I’m getting dressed my eyes are still stubbornly pretending to sleep. Within ten minutes, after a glass of soy milk and victory over my eyelids, I’m good to go. I really like being up in the mornings. It’s the getting up part that’s so hard for me.
Forty-five minutes later as we trudge up the hill to our front door I’m on an endorphin high that lasts all morning. I’ve noticed that my energy levels are up dramatically since I’ve started the regular exercise. I’m also feeling happier as I go about my days. Now, my core is happy with a shadow of sadness instead of the other way around. The presence of my “Other Self” is fading, freeing me from that shadow.
I am so grateful to God for leading me to the massage therapist. She has been my facilitator, helping me find my way out of the prison of grief and guilt.
My eyes are opening to new views of my regrets.
I had been beating myself up over leaving Steve to go on vacation the June before he died, even though it was he that insisted I not change my plans. All the while we were away I imagined how much better he would be by the time we returned home. None of us had any understanding of how little time we had left together.
But if I hadn’t gone Amy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help him as she did. She came over every morning to help him with his daily needs, and in the evening to help him get ready for and into bed. They spent time together, they talked, and she cared for him. She also took him to several doctors’ and physical therapy appointments and was able to gain a greater understanding of what he was going through.
I still ache for time I missed with him but I see that it was good for Steve and Amy to have had that time with each other. And I know that we’ll be together later.
I don’t ordinarily like to look 5:30 AM directly in the eye, so when he whispers my name into the dark room it’s a real chore to force myself out of bed. As I’m getting dressed my eyes are still stubbornly pretending to sleep. Within ten minutes, after a glass of soy milk and victory over my eyelids, I’m good to go. I really like being up in the mornings. It’s the getting up part that’s so hard for me.
Forty-five minutes later as we trudge up the hill to our front door I’m on an endorphin high that lasts all morning. I’ve noticed that my energy levels are up dramatically since I’ve started the regular exercise. I’m also feeling happier as I go about my days. Now, my core is happy with a shadow of sadness instead of the other way around. The presence of my “Other Self” is fading, freeing me from that shadow.
I am so grateful to God for leading me to the massage therapist. She has been my facilitator, helping me find my way out of the prison of grief and guilt.
My eyes are opening to new views of my regrets.
I had been beating myself up over leaving Steve to go on vacation the June before he died, even though it was he that insisted I not change my plans. All the while we were away I imagined how much better he would be by the time we returned home. None of us had any understanding of how little time we had left together.
But if I hadn’t gone Amy wouldn’t have had the opportunity to help him as she did. She came over every morning to help him with his daily needs, and in the evening to help him get ready for and into bed. They spent time together, they talked, and she cared for him. She also took him to several doctors’ and physical therapy appointments and was able to gain a greater understanding of what he was going through.
I still ache for time I missed with him but I see that it was good for Steve and Amy to have had that time with each other. And I know that we’ll be together later.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
September 11, 2004
Last night I had two vivid dreams. In the first one I was nursing a month-old baby and I had abundant milk.
The second dream was ... complicated. I was parked on a quiet street in my van waiting for someone (a friend of Robyn’s?). He got into the back of the van and as I turned to tell him not to sit in the center seat I noticed that the car was full of people, each seat and the space between the center seats were full but I counted fourteen of us.
When I pulled away from the curb the van felt very heavy and the engine bogged down but I kept trying. Somehow I veered from the road into a small field that was surrounded by small asphalt roads and some buildings. I tried to drive from the grass onto one of the roads but I couldn’t get onto the first one. I turned left to drive across the open grassy area wanting to try for another of the roads.... Here’s where it gets weird! I drove toward a small patio (?) area where there were about a dozen penguins (the kind on the Mario games). They were waddling around randomly, eating French fries off the ground as they wandered. There was a two or three story building adjacent to the patio. Several people were leaning out of the windows laughing and talking to each other as they threw more fries to the penguins. That’s when Dave woke me up to go on a walk.
I researched a few of the dream symbols. The baby can represent advancement, a longing for rebirth, starting over. (I guess I am trying to start over.)
The number fourteen can signify the unexpected and a need to adapt to ever-changing circumstances. It is also symbolic of overindulgence and how one is giving too much into one’s desires. I guess my brain knows that I’m overeating and shopping too much.
I thought the car was me, but that didn’t feel quite right so I looked that up, too. It can mean a transformation into something new. Since I was having difficulty driving I’m sure that points to the difficulty of this journey I’m on, overcoming grief and guilt.
Just a guess…
The second dream was ... complicated. I was parked on a quiet street in my van waiting for someone (a friend of Robyn’s?). He got into the back of the van and as I turned to tell him not to sit in the center seat I noticed that the car was full of people, each seat and the space between the center seats were full but I counted fourteen of us.
When I pulled away from the curb the van felt very heavy and the engine bogged down but I kept trying. Somehow I veered from the road into a small field that was surrounded by small asphalt roads and some buildings. I tried to drive from the grass onto one of the roads but I couldn’t get onto the first one. I turned left to drive across the open grassy area wanting to try for another of the roads.... Here’s where it gets weird! I drove toward a small patio (?) area where there were about a dozen penguins (the kind on the Mario games). They were waddling around randomly, eating French fries off the ground as they wandered. There was a two or three story building adjacent to the patio. Several people were leaning out of the windows laughing and talking to each other as they threw more fries to the penguins. That’s when Dave woke me up to go on a walk.
I researched a few of the dream symbols. The baby can represent advancement, a longing for rebirth, starting over. (I guess I am trying to start over.)
The number fourteen can signify the unexpected and a need to adapt to ever-changing circumstances. It is also symbolic of overindulgence and how one is giving too much into one’s desires. I guess my brain knows that I’m overeating and shopping too much.
I thought the car was me, but that didn’t feel quite right so I looked that up, too. It can mean a transformation into something new. Since I was having difficulty driving I’m sure that points to the difficulty of this journey I’m on, overcoming grief and guilt.
Just a guess…
Friday, December 3, 2010
September 8, 2004
I went in for another massage today. I expected to be as out-of-it as I was last time but this was better. The meditation seems to help me focus on my future, keep me moving forward.
We chatted as she worked on my back. When she found a particularly painful spot she said it was good that everything was so near the surface. With her finger she drew a short line between my right shoulder blade and spine saying, “This is the gateway to guilt and grief.” I was stunned by her accuracy.
I have been holding in so much guilt in the form of “should haves”. As I lay there trying to let go of the guilty feelings I couldn’t. I asked why and she told me "It’s like being afraid of success. Afraid of the unknown. If you let it go, what will be there in its place?"
This has helped and I’ve changed my mantra ~ "With courage and grace I step boldly into my future for I am a woman of strength. I release the need to hold on to pain and grief for I know your mercy and forgiveness. Thank you, Lord."
I know that neither Steve nor God want this for me, to carry such a burden of sorrow. I can serve God better without this load.
I know now, too, why I’ve been having so many physical symptoms lately (panic attacks, back pain, food cravings). My body is trying to find its new balance, asking me- ~ are you sure you want to let this go? Yes, body…I’m sure. But we’ll take as much time as we need. We won’t move too fast. We’ll be fine.
And it’s OK to let go of the guilt. There was nothing I could do to keep Steve here, even though my heart tells me I was his mom. I was supposed to make everything all better. But I couldn’t make this better. I couldn’t kiss this away.
We chatted as she worked on my back. When she found a particularly painful spot she said it was good that everything was so near the surface. With her finger she drew a short line between my right shoulder blade and spine saying, “This is the gateway to guilt and grief.” I was stunned by her accuracy.
I have been holding in so much guilt in the form of “should haves”. As I lay there trying to let go of the guilty feelings I couldn’t. I asked why and she told me "It’s like being afraid of success. Afraid of the unknown. If you let it go, what will be there in its place?"
This has helped and I’ve changed my mantra ~ "With courage and grace I step boldly into my future for I am a woman of strength. I release the need to hold on to pain and grief for I know your mercy and forgiveness. Thank you, Lord."
I know that neither Steve nor God want this for me, to carry such a burden of sorrow. I can serve God better without this load.
I know now, too, why I’ve been having so many physical symptoms lately (panic attacks, back pain, food cravings). My body is trying to find its new balance, asking me- ~ are you sure you want to let this go? Yes, body…I’m sure. But we’ll take as much time as we need. We won’t move too fast. We’ll be fine.
And it’s OK to let go of the guilt. There was nothing I could do to keep Steve here, even though my heart tells me I was his mom. I was supposed to make everything all better. But I couldn’t make this better. I couldn’t kiss this away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)