A long time ago I learned how to wallow in the self-satisfaction of misery. When my Dad was overseas, I could use the emotion of missing him to get out of all kinds of trouble. The stance of shoulders bent forward coupled with an unsmiling face got me lots of attention from peers and teachers and fit right in with my mother's demeanor. We were a pair of martyrs; yes, we were.
We suffered through birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, while he was away; not quite letting ourselves enjoy our being together because HE wasn't there. The truth of the matter was that those events when celebrated with him in the house weren't that memorable either. Nothing stands out in my mind unless I review the photo album where a picture can bring a draft of a memory. Unfortunately, other memories around my relationship with my father arise, and I'd rather not go there.
I can also remember fabricating reasons to be glum. Face it, in our society, a Pollyanna is often outside the circle of individuals who would prefer to recount tragedies and fears rather than look at the positives in life.
Gradually I stepped out of the martyred role I shared with her. I'm glad now, because I could easily don the cloak of widowhood and let it suffocate me. Sure I cry and wail and rant when my body is so tight with grief I am sinking into despair. Expressing the emotions moves me onto the next plateau of recovery. If I held them in, I'd become numb to myself and to the world around me. That's something I definitely don't want to do.
I want to live, and live fully. If that means struggling through an hour or a day and night of tears and whining, I'll do it. In fact, I've done it already. When coming into the second day of it, I found I was almost bored. It was enough for then, so I stopped.
I found I have many decisions to make; I have to gather my wits about me to understand my options.
So here's the jist of it now! I could choose to be miserable every single moment of every day, OR, I can choose to feel my feelings, express them, move on to face the challenges I have of living alone in the woods and make the best of it. I'm choosing the latter.
My dear Earlene, I decided to stop by your website to see what's new. And here you are, alive and blogging! Bless you dear woman. Your words carry such wisdom, comfort, compassion. We all benefit from your sharing and your insight.
ReplyDeleteThe death of a spouse, any loved one, is one of those most incredible life experiences that we can never be prepared for. In the long run, we find the gift of it. Having traveled a bit of this road, my heart can't help but align with you in your journey. Our sisterhood strengthens. Your light shines through. Thank you.