Promises for May

 

1.  Life is too short to eat food that isn't good.   I don't mean spoiled food, but food that is lacking in taste or texture or a recipe that didn't turn out and feels like punishment when I force myself to eat it or the leftovers of it which haven't improved in anyway.  I did that too often in April and I've made up my mind that if I'm going to consume 'x' number of calories each day, then the food I eat shall (a) taste good (b) be something I genuinely enjoy (c) and look forward to eating.  

I've had ill luck of late with things I crammed into the freezer before John died.  WHY did I save those things thinking they'd taste better later?  

Indeed, life is short and the nourishment I put into my body should not make me gag.   

2.  I will buy myself flowers.  I truly love having flowers in my home.  I let several weeks pass without buying any at all.  It took me a little bit to determine why I kept feeling a bit off.  I'm missing the flowers I'd made it a habit to keep on my mantel and desk and buffet in the dining area. I decided last month, when I felt afraid to spend that once I knew my income I will have flowers planned into my budget.

Some women treat themselves to having their nails done.  Some buy specialty coffees.  If I'm going to indulge myself in any way, then I shall make mine books and flowers.  

3.  I will continue to rise at 7am most every day. I find that rising early gives me the sense of having seized the day (once I've had coffee!).  For another thing, I find I am far less likely to sit up until all hours because I am tired by the end of each day if I get up at 7a.m. 

There may be times when I've missed sleep that I shall make an effort to sleep in, but as a rule, I feel best and most productive if I'm up early.

4.  I will slowly incorporate healthy things into my weeks.  I started oil pulling a few weeks ago after reading how beneficial it is for oral health and then reading that oral health was the seat of all our bodily health.  

Then I began the next phase by adding in plenty of colorful fruits and vegetables into my diet.  It is not recommended we add loads of fiber all at once.  It is suggested that increasing fiber intake by 5% weekly is the healthiest way to approach diet.  

Did you know that while 5-7 servings of fruit and vegetables are recommended it is actually 10 servings daily that really provide the maximum number of nutrients required for better health?  I'm trying to be aware of this.   Well, I'm not planning to throw my body into a state of shock by eating ten a day right away, but I am slowly increasing what I eat daily and I'm taking time to look up what quantity of each fruit and vegetable is considered a serving.

5.  I will wear what makes me feel my very best. 

Say what we like, how we feel once dressed, with or without makeup (depending on which you prefer) does affect how we perceive ourselves.  Put on a pair of pants that are too snug and I'll be mighty uncomfortable until I get home and take them off.  Stained and bedraggled t-shirts are fine for doing painting and nasty cleaning tasks, but not as a standard for at home wear.  Ill-fitting bras, makeup that feels it is sucking moisture from my skin, hair that absolutely will not look good no matter how much care I take in trying to style it, a shirt that crawls up over my middle despite continuous tugging...It all just adds to my sense of self-consciousness.  I do not need any additional reinforcement in that area.

(Clothing)

I confess I got quite used to the higher quality things I purchased from Stitch Fix but once they noted I kept a piece, I often got the same things in different colors or patterns. Often, they were lacking the 'cute' factor.  When I returned to shopping at Cato, I found them wanting in quality even if the things I bought were cute.  There are more places than those two entities which cater to my size.

 I didn't make shopping much of a priority.  And equally true, I never purchased anything unless I had the allowance to buy it.  So, if I made obligations elsewhere, say for the house or to gifting someone, that came from my allowance, then I didn't always have the funds to shop, so I didn't.  

I admit I don't get a great thrill from the pursuit of the hunt for clothing.  Nor do I have the requirements for a large closet full of things.  I've kept a very modest wardrobe for years.  

I thought I'd make myself a clothing allowance and actually shop for clothing in nicer stores.  And if any of you have any suggestions of places to look, please do let me know.  The truth is I'm clueless.

(Hair)

A good haircut is included in this.  

For years John urged me to stop fussing about my hair and find myself a stylist who took time and care to make me look my best.  Instead, I stubbornly clung to what he referred to as the gyp clip salons where I would pay about $20 for a 5–10-minute cut.  They do one no favors, simply cut and shift you out of the chair as quickly as possible, more frequently than not with wet hair and not a bit of styling. They do not even attempt to upsell products! 

I'm not faulting the technicians.  It is the name of the game in these franchises, and it works quite well for men, who really just want to look neat and done, but it's not necessarily meant to make any woman feel good about herself.  

It's time to find myself a proper hairdresser.  I don't have a clue where I shall find one, but I must begin the hunt.  Once upon a time you might ask someone where they got their hair done, but I've found in recent years that apparently women keep their stylist names and their favored salon as a closely guarded secret.  It's going to be a quest marked by trial and error I'm afraid.  But then I've been living for the longest time with mostly errors, so what are a few more?

6. I will get out of the house at least once a week besides church on Sunday.  I've done well enough with this so far.  I've been out with my friend Susan twice in April.  I went to Outreach, and to an Outreach dinner meeting, but that has ended for me, now, by my choice.  They are overwhelmed with volunteers which is a great thing, but they do not need another.

I went to Josh's band concert.  And I do include going out with my children, or going to their homes for meals, as getting 'out'.

I'm watching the community calendars to see what is going on locally.  I could join a small group at church but most meet in the evenings and I'm reluctant to drive 40 minutes or more in the dark... and in the winter months that would be 80 miles round trip, all in the dark.  

It would help if my circle of acquaintances was larger, but that will take time to build.  Though I did think of someone this morning, I'd rather like to reconnect with. I can at least try, can't I?

Closed Doors

 

John has been gone a month at the time I'm writing this.  One month ago today, I kissed his forehead and walked out of the room leaving his physical body, my dearest friend and great love, behind.  I realize now that I was in a state of shock.  Operating normally enough on the surface but reeling with sorrow underneath.  Holding myself together for the sake of my children, but bereft.  Probably not hiding it very well though I supposed at the time that I was.

But two things happened that I have not shared.  Two other griefs, which are wrapped up in losing my beloved.  The Sunday morning of his last day, when I'd been told he'd passed away, before I went in to see him and he miraculously regained consciousness, one of the first people I called was my brother.   I told him John had died. "Well Terri, it's going to happen to all of us at some point.  I'm sorry."    I asked him to please let Mama know.  

Coffee Chat: How I'm Really Doing

 

Dear Friends, 

I'm going to change the pattern of posting on you all for a little bit.  I feel the need to not be a writer but to be open and honest about how I feel just now.

No great revelation to any of you, I'm sure, that I'm grieving.  

Grief for me might look different than it looks for someone else.  I am not wailing and gnashing my teeth.  I do cry at times.  Little things, little tears.  And one stormy evening of wrestling with the real pain of grief and loss and longing to turn back time.  Those 34 years of John were far too short!  They went too quickly.  I wanted more.  I thought we'd have more.

Architect of My Soul

 

This evening on the way home from a day of appointment, errands, and a family visit, I finally put in the CD of John's music that he'd recorded and put in our safety deposit box.  I found myself singing along, smiling, raising a hand in worship at times, and thinking deeply about what a journey a life can be.  What we are truly building as we go is a Soul, that mysterious inner being that is so connected to heart and mind.  With the building of our Soul, we become our own three-in-one self.    

Hard Things

Fact of Life:  When you lose your husband, the world expects you to step up and adult even if you don't want to, don't feel like it, are anxious about it, or dread it because it's dang hard stuff you must do.

And it sucks.

But you get up each day, and you do it anyway, because no one else can do it for you.  Oh, they can...But how selfish to expect anyone else to stop their lives to do it for me simply because I feel lazy or low, or fearful, or whatever else emotion I might cough up.   I mean, they all have things they must deal with and attend to and face their own loss at the same time...surely, I can do just as much. 

Reflections on Loss

 

Does Loss count as a big emotion?  By definition it is not. The emotional response to loss is grief.  You grieve over a lost mate, a lost pet, a lost job, a major change in life, losing anything that you valued or held dear.  Grief is the big emotion.  But purportedly loss is what has happened to you, not what you feel.  So.

I cannot determine if I am numb, or if this past year, all the conversations John and I had, all the things we did to secure our future, my future, so prepared me for what lay ahead that I've accepted that easily that I am now alone.  I have discovered what it is to experience loss of someone who was so much a part of my life that I truly felt he breathed out and I breathed in.  

I've tried to contemplate what it means to remove John's things from this house, the home that we shared.  I find that I cannot bear the thought of moving John's things at the moment.  Oh certainly, I can tidy and put away what normally would be put away.  But picking up a book he kept beside his chair...I put it back down.  Clearing the top of his chest of drawers?  Nothing moved except clothing which I put into his dresser drawer.  Remove something of his from the music room?  I can't bear it.  I can't.  It's as though I am erasing him.

And that's when I know I am not numb.  Because the thought of my home without anything of him in it is too painful to even contemplate much less do.  It is the home we put time and effort into, a home which was very much his because he had a vision too and tastes of his own and he insisted that he be part of the process.  He also had a motley collection of things in the music room that consists of obituaries and pictures, posters, signed Cd's from artist he'd met or followed, and tools and music stuff.  I can imagine that room as a guest room, but a decidedly John sort of room, not a Terri sort of room.  But not yet.  Not now.  So, his things stay.  Even though some have asked for something of his, something to remember him by, I can't part with anything. I will.  I know I will come to the time of letting go of the remnants of his physical life, but right now...  No.

The house is quiet, too quiet.  No tv running all day long, no music pouring forth from the music room, no constant conversation.  I've put on a few of the videos we watched together, those that we both enjoyed.  I think I might add some of my favorite vloggers to the line-up on YouTube...but I hesitate.  I feel my breath catch at the back of my throat.  If I do those things, then this means he's gone.

I know he is gone.  But I find myself skirting about the spaces that remind me too hard.    

I didn't feel lonely at first.  I felt...bored, I'd say.  I do the few chores required, I've made meals for myself but beyond the necessary living chores, everything seems pointless, silly.  How can I possibly enjoy the junk journal when John will never again be here to listen to me chatter about it?  How can I possibly sink my teeth into a book and escape when there's no noise to escape from?  How can I possibly sit and color or play a game or arrange furniture when there's no one to talk to, no one whose opinion matters on the subject of whatever it is I've done?

And then one night this past week, loneliness hit me.  An ache I can't describe.  Because no one else can fill that space that he's left behind.  

And honestly?  It feels as though he's been gone for weeks, months, years.  The distance between him and me unfathomable.  In my heart, I know he's just beyond the physical realm of this life/universe.  I know he's there in heaven, but at times, as the days drift by, I feel the separation more and more.

So, I talk to him.  I tell him I miss him and that I'm lonely.  I tell him how silly everything seems without him here to share it.  I tell him I love him.  Because I do and I always will.  And I tell him I know he loves me, because I've felt it at times.  I can't really describe it but it's there in the atmosphere around me.  

I talk to him about the day, about the children when I'm worried over one or the other, about how proud I was to do something that I'd dreaded doing, or how upset I am when fear has grabbed me by the throat, and I face uncertainty.  

There's a point in almost every day when I sink into this loss and just sit with it. Not depressed, not blue.  Just absorbing the reality of it.  Saddened by it.  Accepting of it.  

And then, rising to live. Not reluctantly, but willingly.  Pushing to move forward, to continue because John would want that.  I want that for myself.  

I go on.

This New Season

 

In March, as I worked through big emotions and sorrow, I wrote out the posts and pre-scheduled them to publish.  I finished them a week before John died.   Since then, I've been doing a lot of writing.  The two posts published on this blog and on Blue House Journal about John's passing, posts for April, in my journal.

Writing being the cathartic exercise that it always has been for me; I'm finding my way as I go into this new season of life alone mostly by writing, not by word or book.  I don't know what it is I feel.  I'm having to stop and exam it as I go.  

Promises for April

 

1.  I promise to start reaching OUT to people when they are reaching out to me.  John and I tended to be selfish with our time together.  There's no one there for me now.  I'm not slighting my children.  They are being so supportive and would happily fit me into their lives even more than they did in the past.  But they have their lives.   I owe it to John, I owe it to them, and most of all I owe it to me, to not give in to the easy thing.  I need a new support system; one I'll build for myself.  I need to be open to people and stop thinking everyone is highly suspect and likely to hurt me.

2.   I promise to choose carefully who I allow to enter into my life.  That may sound contrary to the first promise but it's really an extension to it.  I attract needy people.  People are attracted to my co-dependent nature.  I want HEALTHY personal relationships in my life, not someone who will reduce me, use me, trap me in their dependency.  

Big Emotions, Pt. 3: Sorrow

Sorrow sits at the bottom of the deep river of all unplumbed emotions.  Grief, despair, hopelessness, anger, shame, hurt...They are all mixed up in sorrow and get dredged up to cloud the water and alter the current's flow.  This river has a power of its own, moving at will along the path it carves.

Many times, when I lie down to sleep, when I just start to drift, I see a very real flood behind my eyelids, sweeping me along with it, sometimes confined within riverbanks, sometimes spreading rapidly across the landscape of life. I have no control whatsoever over my vessel, swept along without any way to stop it or slow it, completely vulnerable to the whims of the water beneath me. 

Sorrow, I know.  

Big Emotions Pt. 2: Shame

 

When I first began this journey, it began with a dream in which I appeared unclothed before a crowd.  I walked without any embarrassment or sense of shame, quite at home in my own skin.

But the most often experienced emotion I've felt over the past few years has been shame.  I've written about it both in my journal and here.  I've examined it until I have felt I was going to go mad.  I've ignored it only to have it rear up and strike at me hard.   

In Week Three of The Artist's Way, two of the emotions we examine more closely are anger and shame.  Today I want to delve into the emotion of shame as I have experienced it.

The Unexpected New Season: Joy

 

This weekend, the unexpected happened.  My husband, who has never been seriously ill in all of our thirty-four years together, who never needed to see a doctor for anything but routine labs, died.  

In the midst of the month when I've had big emotions, when I've written and have upcoming posts already written about big emotions, this comes into my life.  Nothing you've read prior to this and nothing you read after this for the month of March is about the most mysterious thing of all, and that is Joy.

Yesterday I was a married woman.  Today I am a widow.