I've had a million things to blog about this last month...but not an ounce of energy or want-to to make it happen.
December kicked my pants (and that's putting it mildly). Survival was the order of the day. My child morphed into an unrecognizable beast (sounds cruel - but I'm telling you --- it was horrid!) who challenged every bit of my being (and some of her teacher's as well). I don't know really what cause the downward spiral (usually I have an idea) - and I've discovered than I'll never be able to separate grief from typical challenging four year old behavior. Forever it will be intertwined - for both of us I'm sure. It was a horrible experience and it sent me into a terrible, dark place. I think I went to bed every night crying - out of pure exhaustion and despair. It was rotten and I felt like a complete failure -- and somehow I still had to make a happy Christmas happen for her. I have no idea how I made it through. (Well, I do - but I'm still surprised I made it through.)
People assume grief is worse during the holidays. For many I know it is -- more milestones with an obvious and painful absense. For me, I suspect that will be more true in a few years. Right now, it's all the same. The weight of Iain's absence and my grief it is continual and burdensome. I breathe more - that's different than a year ago. I'm grateful for that. But certainly, grief doesn't ever take a vacation, so that added on top of my daily parenting struggles made for quite an emotional hurricane - Category V. And that whole Newtown, Connecticut tragedy nearly did me in. I didn't watch much coverage - but really, you didn't have to in order to experience the gravity of the terror.
On another note, I ordered my Christmas cards in November - a record for me. They are still sitting in the box. I couldn't do it. I never did find my address list. I'll get to it eventually - hopefully this week. I chose my child instead. I am glad for that. I held her a lot and played with her more than usual and figured folks would be glad to get cards any time. Maybe now I can write a few thoughtful messages without being panicked I'll miss the postal deadline.
I am sitting here not sure what this New Year's means for me. I want to be full of hope and goals and resolutions - but I'm not. Part of me is still in trauma-mode bracing myself for the next big kick in the pants. I hate that and I feel guilty for it. I'm typically a very optimistic person. It's just where I am right now. Maybe it's because I am a little paralysed in terms of looking far into my future. Honestly, I can only look far enough to bedtime each day. Living one day at a time has taking on a new meaning. My positive spin ~ maybe I'm living out the resolution that many people aspire to. Who knows?
I'm grasping on to my mustard seed faith. I know God is here amidst the mess. the muck, the sadness. Oh, the sadness. Honestly, I think it intensifies with the passing of time. I miss him - more and more. It's seems like forever since he left. It's been sixteen months and in broad scheme of things - it's not all that long ago. I'm still experiencing the rawness and newness of it all daily. And some of it, I get used to. And when I have moments of that awareness, I cry. I'm not sure I want to be used to it.
So, I guess my new year is full of prayer. I cling to the little bit of hope and faith that I have. That's is as good as it gets. And maybe it's all it needs to be right now.
I plan on back-dating some posts for this December. And now that I think of it - I didn't blog at all last Christmas either. Maybe I'll back-date some of those posts too. Maybe.
No promises for future blogging. I'll do what I can do.
This new year has GOT to be better. It just has to. Please, God.
I hope it's better for you, too.
And if you made it through this pathetically bleak update, here's your happy ending....and beginning.