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14. Out of Bounds

Written Sunday, November 3, 2019 / Day 83 / Morning

My life at this moment has definite boundaries. They exist on several levels.

At the grief level there seem to be no boundaries. What I have found though is that while there are not definite boundaries there seem to be places where grief is not that powerful.

Take the beach trip. Grief was significantly less intense for that week. It was a noticeable change. Of course, when I returned home, I ventured deeper into grief’s territory and it became much more powerful.

As this past month has unfolded, it has been a tumultuous time. There were titanic changes to my world of grief. The lifting of the incredible weight of despair being the most notable.

While the trip to Buffalo and all that took place at my return was overwhelmingly overpowering in its intensity and amazingly - in its outcome.

In grief there is no joy. Only areas where things are less awful for me at this time.

So in the assessment department, I’d have to make an assessment that I have moved from totally intense and consuming to a sense of general emptiness and unsettledness.

Underneath all of this, for me, is my task-driven life that keeps me going. Paying bills, shopping, obligations that are presented to me - these have kept the boat floating at least. And occasionally the boat even makes a few quick trips because of the task at hand.

So in the midst of this period of less intensity I find myself having definite pockets of “normal”. They are fast, they do not last, but they are noticeable. Noticeable because there have not been collective moments of “normal” for some time.

As I navigate through these moments - I seem to forget where I am. It’s at these times where I fall into a new reality.

The reality of venturing “out of bounds”.

In sports, the playing field is the official area where the game is taking place. While the game is taking place - during “game time” so to speak, all play activity needs to take place on the playing field. Otherwise the player is reminded that they are “out of bounds” and that any game activity outside the playing field is not valid.

On my playing field I have been regularly slapped with an out of bound penalty.

It happens when I stray into an area that takes me back to my former life - particularly where my wife is concerned.

I run into her picture, something significant to us, some artifact of my love for her - and I receive an intense out of bounds penalty.

I slip back into the intensity of grief. It is biting, it is beyond sad, it is disarming - and those are only the emotions that can be put into words. There is a transition into the awful place of grief.

Call it downtown grief. Right at the city center. Where all the grief action is taking place. Where the worst of the worst is normal. Where despair and forbidding are for breakfast. Followed by a mid-morning snack of anguish.

This is where I had my first apartment 83 days ago. This is where I started out.

As I look over these last nearly three months (is that all this is? - seems like 3 years) I find I have other residences in the world of grief.

My beach trip was on the outskirts of town. It was really a country apartment. You could hardly see downtown grief from there. But I knew it was there. But being out in the country there was that a definite reality of being away from the core.

My current apartment seems to be just at the edge of grief’s urban area. I still can get downtown rather easily - but since I am at the edge of the city - there is noticeably less grief around me. It’s all there at some level - just not the usual portions I had been receiving.

So in my current apartment I can look out the window towards the country where it is not particularly sunny and bright, but rather just less cloudy and stormy.

But when I look through the wrong window - pow - there is an industrial-strength dose of grief waiting.

For now, when I venture out of bounds, I slip back into the worst of grief. I just put away the moment that is taking me there.

I declare, “Someday this will strengthen me - but for now it does not. So away it goes.”.

At least I can somewhat switch it off. In the past it was like that storm going through where all you could do is hold on and endure while it passes.

It’s like forgetting the pan is hot on the stove and quickly touching it. That pain makes you recoil quite quickly. That’s the way my out of bounds moments are for me.

I haven’t been at this very long in the grand scheme of things - but one thing is for certain - I am moving somewhere emotionally.

I am learning how to play the game.

And as long as I stay on the field - I may very well get better at this.

Some day - I might even score a point or two.

14. Out of Bounds

Written Sunday, November 3, 2019 / Day 83 / Morning

My life at this moment has definite boundaries. They exist on several levels.

At the grief level there seem to be no boundaries. What I have found though is that while there are not definite boundaries there seem to be places where grief is not that powerful.

Take the beach trip. Grief was significantly less intense for that week. It was a noticeable change. Of course, when I returned home, I ventured deeper into grief’s territory and it became much more powerful.

As this past month has unfolded, it has been a tumultuous time. There were titanic changes to my world of grief. The lifting of the incredible weight of despair being the most notable.

While the trip to Buffalo and all that took place at my return was overwhelmingly overpowering in its intensity and amazingly - in its outcome.

In grief there is no joy. Only areas where things are less awful for me at this time.

So in the assessment department, I’d have to make an assessment that I have moved from totally intense and consuming to a sense of general emptiness and unsettledness.

Underneath all of this, for me, is my task-driven life that keeps me going. Paying bills, shopping, obligations that are presented to me - these have kept the boat floating at least. And occasionally the boat even makes a few quick trips because of the task at hand.

So in the midst of this period of less intensity I find myself having definite pockets of “normal”. They are fast, they do not last, but they are noticeable. Noticeable because there have not been collective moments of “normal” for some time.

As I navigate through these moments - I seem to forget where I am. It’s at these times where I fall into a new reality.

The reality of venturing “out of bounds”.

On my playing field I have been regularly slapped with an out of bound penalty.

It happens when I stray into an area that takes me back to my former life - particularly where my wife is concerned.

I run into her picture, something significant to us, some artifact of my love for her - and I receive an intense out of bounds penalty.

I slip back into the intensity of grief. It is biting, it is beyond sad, it is disarming - and those are only the emotions that can be put into words. There is a transition into the awful place of grief.

Call it downtown grief. Right at the city center. Where all the grief action is taking place. Where the worst of the worst is normal. Where despair and forbidding are for breakfast. Followed by a mid-morning snack of anguish.

This is where I had my first apartment 83 days ago. This is where I started out.

As I look over these last nearly three months (is that all this is? - seems like 3 years) I find I have other residences in the world of grief.

My beach trip was on the outskirts of town. It was really a country apartment. You could hardly see downtown grief from there. But I knew it was there. But being out in the country there was that a definite reality of being away from the core.

My current apartment seems to be just at the edge of grief’s urban area. I still can get downtown rather easily - but since I am at the edge of the city - there is noticeably less grief around me. It’s all there at some level - just not the usual portions I had been receiving.

So in my current apartment I can look out the window towards the country where it is not particularly sunny and bright, but rather just less cloudy and stormy.

But when I look through the wrong window - pow - there is an industrial-strength dose of grief waiting.

For now, when I venture out of bounds, I slip back into the worst of grief. I just put away the moment that is taking me there.

I declare, “Someday this will strengthen me - but for now it does not. So away it goes.”.

At least I can somewhat switch it off. In the past it was like that storm going through where all you could do is hold on and endure while it passes.

It’s like forgetting the pan is hot on the stove and quickly touching it. That pain makes you recoil quite quickly. That’s the way my out of bounds moments are for me.

I haven’t been at this very long in the grand scheme of things - but one thing is for certain - I am moving somewhere emotionally.

I am learning how to play the game.

And as long as I stay on the field - I may very well get better at this.

Some day - I might even score a point or two.

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