I was feeling odd about posting this (as you will read later it is putting the negative out there which I generally shy away from) but in honor of the 400th view of my blog....here it is. Someone is actually out there reading this! Who?! Here goes.
Sometimes I think I am doing a disservice to myself; coming forward with a generally happy positive disposition, portraying that I am strong and can power through, posting under my alter ego on Facebook as Zumbamel with all the positive thoughts and inspirational quotes that I can find, bouncing around from Zumba class to yoga class, sharing with others that I am okay! But I am not okay. I mean I am okay, I am not ready to stand at the edge of the Sears (still won't call it Willis) Tower. But really, my husband passed away just over 5 almost 6 months ago from brain cancer. I was his caregiver for the last few months of his life and saw things that no 30 year old women should ever have to deal with. My grief journey is quite frankly in full swing with no end in sight and nothing getting easier.
The truth about yesterday is that I cried from about 2pm to 6pm on and off, until I had a glass of wine and set off to my hair appointment. Again, don't get all worried, it's a normal part of grief. First, I saw my coworker get flowers on her anniversary and realized I wouldn't ever be getting flowers from Matt and quietly cried at my desk. The bouquet looked similar to one he had sent me for Sweetest Day when we first started dating. The only year that Sweetest Day was recognized ;)
Then I started crying on the train home as I watched the city pass me by. How the hell did my life turn out like this? Is this my reality? I want it all back. I am busy trying to plan the next phase of my life but in reality, I don't want to! I want to be planning my life with my husband in the condo that we bought together to build our life. So I cried on and off for the rest of the train ride thankfully hiding behind my trendy pair of Ray Bans.
I got home and took Miss Lila to the dog park. The dog park is an intense little space of emotions for me. Seeing Lila running, playing, watching out for me makes me happy, but this was Matt's place. Most people at the park know Lila as Matt's dog and are confused when they see me with her. So I cried again at the dog park. Why didn't I go to the dog park more with Matt? I sat on the bench in the back again thanking Ray Ban for their ever stylish tear hiders.
So am I doing myself a disservice? The other day a friend called and asked me how I was doing. I gave my usual response and said good/fine. Then I thought, why did I just say that? I am not fine! It's hard to let the negative out, to let others know that you aren't fine. I can't see myself posting on Facebook that I am wrapped in a ball crying in bed, so maybe I will start small and the next time someone asks me, how are you doing? I will let them in on a bit of my reality.
And to again tie this into lessons from the yoga mat. I went to a morning yoga class and started into my normal flow. My triceps had generally stopped hurting but once I got going... Ouch! They are not better. Basically, whenever I tried to clasp my hands behind my back, a surging pain would run through my tricep. So again, I modified. And just like the above situations, it was just something that triggered the pain. With a muscle, there is a little more science to why your arm hurts in a particular position but with grief, some things just hit you hard for no reason. Some hit you hard for various reasons. And sometimes you are just riding the train crying wondering what the hell happened to the live you loved and worked so hard to create.