Six months ago, every day sent me further up shit creek.
If it wasn’t a head injury, it was a break-up, or a near-fatal car accident, or giardia, or middle school drama amongst a bunch of adults, my child’s felony charges, or, or, or….
I greeted each day, guarded, teeth gritted, unsure of what the day would bring, but sure that it would bring something.
And none of it was good.
It was brutal.
And here I am, still standing, and recently doing more than standing.
I’m finally good. Like good good. Like, “oh my god it’s about fucking time” good.
And what is really incredible about it is that now, each day brings me something that frees me up just a little bit more from the grief that consumed me for what seems like eternity.
And here is the awareness that came to me today.
Something that has consistently sent me spinning through these months has been having to list all that happened. You know, telling a new therapist, or I finally see my parents and can sit down and share the gory details, or some poor unsuspecting (and often unfamiliar) person walks into my kitchen and asks the one thing they shouldn’t: “How are you?”
When I do that I re-experience the weight of it. I am crushed all over again. Each time, hopefully a little bit less, but just two weeks ago I had to tell my doctor what had been going on and I held it together perfectly well.
Until I got home.
And for the next three days.
Then today something happened.
I was at work, slicing ham, and something made me think of the list and this great sadness welled up and my heart hurt for the gal who had to go through all of that – but I felt that as a separate person from her. Honestly, in a motherly sort of way.
And I thought, “I’m not her anymore.”
What does a snake feel when she sheds her skin?
Does it hurt? Is it liberating?