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24. Me, Myself and I

Written Monday, September 9, 2019 / Day 28 / Evening

An interesting thing has happened at the beach. In this completely new situation I realize something more vividly than I have before.

I am alone. On my own.

It struck me in several ways. One is that I have no one to share the situation with. I mean I do have the family here of course and there is sharing going on that way. But my confidant, my partner, the one that we freely would assess and take in all that was taking place is no longer here for me.

I am alone.

And that is awkward. Thankfully right now it is just strange. I think this is because there is nothing here from the past. At least I do not have the tug of that after me. But what I do have is this strange independence.

I am traveling alone and that is just plain weird.

I always had someone to take care of. And in the more recent past - someone to take care of on a more intimate level. Not only the traveling and those elements, but helping to get ready, organize things and just be involved.

At this level, traveling had become difficult for me in the last few years. It was never a restful time - only a time with different patterns of responsibility that could not be ignored.

Now on my own - the resounding emptiness is deafening.

What, only have myself to take care of? Impossible!

To make my own decisions is also quite uncomfortable at one level. I get to choose. There is nothing to check, no opinion other than my own to consider.

And that is strange.

Uncomfortable in a way. Freeing in another.

Just as in full-blown grief (which for the moment has not reached out to grab me) the conflict of emotions can be quite unsettling. Which one wins? Well, none of them do - they just battle each other until I give up trying to manage them - or at least their perspectives before I break down.

I also find that some of the reading materials I brought with me are impossible for me to read. When I tried to read one of them, it took me immediately back to my pre-grief life.

That life I long to have once again but will never reclaim. That awareness alone was enough to make me put the items away. Away until some future time when they will not hurt so much to visit them.

I also find I must retreat to my room regularly. There is just not enough energy to engage in what would be considered “normal” conversation. There just isn’t any emotional strength available for that kind of activity.

I know they understand.

Sleeping as well has been a challenge. Certainly it is a new environment, a new bed and all of that - but sleep has not come easy.

Another battle - but one we are enduring.

The new computer has been a pleasant distraction. My son helping me with certain aspects as I run into them. The new computer will be a great tool for that day I’ll be able to use a new tool.

It just won’t be tomorrow - or the foreseeable future.

Yet this is a neutral place - relatively speaking - it is providing some therapeutic value. It is a beautiful place - right now, at night, the quiet sounds of the crashing waves are a reassuring element, a comforting reminder of peace.

Today I mailed an anniversary card to couple back in western New York. Their anniversary is Thursday and my wife had a card already bought for them. I sent it to them in honor of her as I will do on all the occasions coming up. I will follow in her footsteps as best I can.

So off to try to rest in this neutral place. I had a few brief moments today - and I know more are awaiting me when I return.

For now I will enjoy neutrality. When you live in grief, neutrality is just about as great as joy.

Even though I do not see past the current state, I know I will be able to operate some day.

But for now, I will enjoy the beach, the environment and the family. That is comforting me.

Grief, I know, will be waiting for me when I return.

But when I return I pray this week will leave me a little stronger as God leads me to the future He has in mind for me.

24. Me, Myself and I

Written Monday, September 9, 2019 / Day 28 / Evening

An interesting thing has happened at the beach. In this completely new situation I realize something more vividly than I have before.

I am alone. On my own.

It struck me in several ways. One is that I have no one to share the situation with. I mean I do have the family here of course and there is sharing going on that way. But my confidant, my partner, the one that we freely would assess and take in all that was taking place is no longer here for me.

I am alone.

And that is awkward. Thankfully right now it is just strange. I think this is because there is nothing here from the past. At least I do not have the tug of that after me. But what I do have is this strange independence.

I am traveling alone and that is just plain weird.

I always had someone to take care of. And in the more recent past - someone to take care of on a more intimate level. Not only the traveling and those elements, but helping to get ready, organize things and just be involved.

At this level, traveling had become difficult for me in the last few years. It was never a restful time - only a time with different patterns of responsibility that could not be ignored.

Now on my own - the resounding emptiness is deafening.

What, only have myself to take care of? Impossible!

To make my own decisions is also quite uncomfortable at one level. I get to choose. There is nothing to check, no opinion other than my own to consider.

And that is strange.

Uncomfortable in a way. Freeing in another.

Just as in full-blown grief (which for the moment has not reached out to grab me) the conflict of emotions can be quite unsettling. Which one wins? Well, none of them do - they just battle each other until I give up trying to manage them - or at least their perspectives before I break down.

I also find that some of the reading materials I brought with me are impossible for me to read. When I tried to read one of them, it took me immediately back to my pre-grief life.

That life I long to have once again but will never reclaim. That awareness alone was enough to make me put the items away. Away until some future time when they will not hurt so much to visit them.

I also find I must retreat to my room regularly. There is just not enough energy to engage in what would be considered “normal” conversation. There just isn’t any emotional strength available for that kind of activity.

I know they understand.

Sleeping as well has been a challenge. Certainly it is a new environment, a new bed and all of that - but sleep has not come easy.

Another battle - but one we are enduring.

The new computer has been a pleasant distraction. My son helping me with certain aspects as I run into them. The new computer will be a great tool for that day I’ll be able to use a new tool.

It just won’t be tomorrow - or the foreseeable future.

Yet this is a neutral place - relatively speaking - it is providing some therapeutic value. It is a beautiful place - right now, at night, the quiet sounds of the crashing waves are a reassuring element, a comforting reminder of peace.

Today I mailed an anniversary card to couple back in western New York. Their anniversary is Thursday and my wife had a card already bought for them. I sent it to them in honor of her as I will do on all the occasions coming up. I will follow in her footsteps as best I can.

So off to try to rest in this neutral place. I had a few brief moments today - and I know more are awaiting me when I return.

For now I will enjoy neutrality. When you live in grief, neutrality is just about as great as joy.

Even though I do not see past the current state, I know I will be able to operate some day.

But for now, I will enjoy the beach, the environment and the family. That is comforting me.

Grief, I know, will be waiting for me when I return.

But when I return I pray this week will leave me a little stronger as God leads me to the future He has in mind for me.

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