Its been 59 days since my marriage fell to pieces. It feels like just yesterday, but its been as good as two months since I've felt loved by my husband. Its starting to weigh heavily on me, and each day brings a new craving for some marital affection, some tenderness, some warm and dependable shelter from the rest of the cold, cold world. With each dawning day I begin to feel a bit more out in the cold, each new night makes me feel a little more lonely the night before it. Right from the start I missed the big things, his presence, signs of him dwelling here strewn about the house, the security of his income and his contribution to managing our home, but now, 59 days later, I'm being hit by the loss of the little things, and I think they hurt more then the big ones.
Watching Grey's Anatomy the other night (this show always kills me), watching tender moments between couples offering one another consolation over their collective grief, I felt pained, because no one loves me like that anymore, not in that tender, romantic, protective, "just want to make you feel better" kind of way.
Around the house I find I get lonely at dinner time, when there's no one to make dinner for but the kids, who eat pretty basic meals. No one to help get them ready, no one to eat and chat with, no one to pack left overs for their lunch the next day.
At bedtime when I'm finished reading and turning out the lights, sometimes I'm compelled to reach for the phone like I always did when we was working nights, to call him and tell him goodnight and walk around the house while I have him on the phone to do my little security check. I miss that.
No one to watch my favorite shows with, no one to talk about them with when they're done.
No one to curl into a night, after a bad dream, or a good one. No one to wake in the night if I hear a noise.
No one to kill spiders or stomp bugs, no more hero come to my rescue.
No one to rub my forehead when I have a headache, no father in law to do the special "oil treatment".
No one to help with the day to day kid stuff, no one to help me deal with the stress, no one to laugh it off with, no one to point out how funny/cute/amazing the kids are when they do something of interest during the day.
No more using the "When Elvis and I......." starts for sentences, no more "I'll ask my husband"
No more taking part in "Tell me about your wedding" or "Show me your rings" conversations
No counterpart at get togethers at friends, no one to sit next to at the table.
No one to take me to dinner, or the movies, and to hold my hand, or share dessert.
No one to kiss goodnight, or good morning.
No arms around my waist, no hugs, no back rubs, no whispered "have a good day" when he leaves for work in the morning, no calls in the day to see how my day is going.
No more treats from the store "just because"
No more of any of this for me.
They're not such little things after all, they're the culmination of the love and affection and devotion that make up a loving and wonderful marriage, and they are no more. Some days I can cope, and some days I am more lonely then I could ever describe, so lonely I can barely breathe.
Now I pray...
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.
I pray for serenity, but I also pray for the loneliness to pass, but not so I can live a life absent of loneliness, but that it will be replaced by all those little things once lost, so that my life can be once again filled to the brim with them.
Love
Affection
Warmth
Security
Devotion
Admiration
Friendship
Passion
Trust
That me and my heart will once again be taken care of.
Katie
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The painful cutting of ties....
I'm still wading through the aftermath of my marriage crumbling, in record speed I might add. I'm sifting through the debris, trying to pick up the pieces and make sense of what actually happened. I'm taking my time, because every now and then I stumble across a big piece of debris, a memory or an obstacle that accompanies the death of a marriage, and I need time, time to grieve it, and process it, then pack it away.
Lately, as I sort through the mess that is my life right now, I'm coming across faces, familiar faces of people I've come to know and love over the past seven years. Under each picture is a story and memories that break my heart. These are the faces of family, family I'll never see again, our ties severed in the loss my husband, those faces belong to him, and he's taking them with him when he goes. Sisters, brothers, parents, nieces, nephews, a great big family, not mine anymore. Children I've known since birth, held as babies, and called my own nieces and nephews, will not know Aunt Katie anymore. Sisters I confided in, brothers I could depend on, parents who showed me love along with their son, gone. All of them gone. I'll need a lot of time to process this. I won't ever be at another big family dinner, I'll never be apart of the lively energetic chaos that comes with a big family like this. I feel like I got kicked out of the club, disowned, left at the road side. They were my family and I loved them, and now they're gone, all of them.
I wonder if they know how I'll grieve them like I grieve the other losses in my life? I wonder if they'll think of me at all, like the sister in law, or daugher in law, or Aunt who was, and then just wasn't anymore. Will I be that ex family member "we don't speak about?", will my name be taboo? Will anyone hold on to any positive memories of me? I feel like I'm outside a big family home where a big warm celebration is taking place, and I'm out in the cold with my nose pressed against the window wondering how the heck it came to be that I am on the outside looking in! I sure felt like I was on the inside! I felt the warmth and the love and a sense of belonging, I felt like I belonged, and now I'm a stranger.
Its the weirdest thing. So many memories, places, things, are going to forever remind me of the family I lost.
I'm going to remeber road trips, a particular drive from home to Florida as a new couple with a future sister in law in tow
I'm going to remember Florida, visiting a sister and her family and feeling truly at home
I'm going to remember New York, and New York accents, and spanish rice and chicken stew
I'm going to remember going to visit parents and being served a steady stream of snacks and drinks by a woman who knew no better way to show her love
I'm going to remember candid talks on big leather couches with a sister and brother who I knew would listen and can be trusted
A sister who dropped everything to take us to the hospital when Everett got sick, and stayed long after she needed to, from love and support
A father in laws thick Italian accent, hard to decipher but icrediby endearing
A brother in law with the heart of a child, a fabulous brother in law
Another brother with a strong work ethic and wife I thought of as a friend
A sister who suffered a loss like one I suffered and a felt a strong tie to
A sister with huge heart and a radiating warmth that made her so easy and enjoyable to talk to, a sister who gave me a book and helped bring me to Christ
Chicken cooked in tomato sauce will always make me think of my mother in law
A great big wonderful family, not mine anymore.
I wish I could tell them I had no clue this was going to happen, I wish I could tell them I wish I could have changed it, I wish I could pound on the proverbial door and be let back in.
They'll never know how much I'm going to miss them and how horrible it feels to be on the outside looking in, and to have all my ties to them completely severed.
Just another loss to add to the pile
Katie
Lately, as I sort through the mess that is my life right now, I'm coming across faces, familiar faces of people I've come to know and love over the past seven years. Under each picture is a story and memories that break my heart. These are the faces of family, family I'll never see again, our ties severed in the loss my husband, those faces belong to him, and he's taking them with him when he goes. Sisters, brothers, parents, nieces, nephews, a great big family, not mine anymore. Children I've known since birth, held as babies, and called my own nieces and nephews, will not know Aunt Katie anymore. Sisters I confided in, brothers I could depend on, parents who showed me love along with their son, gone. All of them gone. I'll need a lot of time to process this. I won't ever be at another big family dinner, I'll never be apart of the lively energetic chaos that comes with a big family like this. I feel like I got kicked out of the club, disowned, left at the road side. They were my family and I loved them, and now they're gone, all of them.
I wonder if they know how I'll grieve them like I grieve the other losses in my life? I wonder if they'll think of me at all, like the sister in law, or daugher in law, or Aunt who was, and then just wasn't anymore. Will I be that ex family member "we don't speak about?", will my name be taboo? Will anyone hold on to any positive memories of me? I feel like I'm outside a big family home where a big warm celebration is taking place, and I'm out in the cold with my nose pressed against the window wondering how the heck it came to be that I am on the outside looking in! I sure felt like I was on the inside! I felt the warmth and the love and a sense of belonging, I felt like I belonged, and now I'm a stranger.
Its the weirdest thing. So many memories, places, things, are going to forever remind me of the family I lost.
I'm going to remeber road trips, a particular drive from home to Florida as a new couple with a future sister in law in tow
I'm going to remember Florida, visiting a sister and her family and feeling truly at home
I'm going to remember New York, and New York accents, and spanish rice and chicken stew
I'm going to remember going to visit parents and being served a steady stream of snacks and drinks by a woman who knew no better way to show her love
I'm going to remember candid talks on big leather couches with a sister and brother who I knew would listen and can be trusted
A sister who dropped everything to take us to the hospital when Everett got sick, and stayed long after she needed to, from love and support
A father in laws thick Italian accent, hard to decipher but icrediby endearing
A brother in law with the heart of a child, a fabulous brother in law
Another brother with a strong work ethic and wife I thought of as a friend
A sister who suffered a loss like one I suffered and a felt a strong tie to
A sister with huge heart and a radiating warmth that made her so easy and enjoyable to talk to, a sister who gave me a book and helped bring me to Christ
Chicken cooked in tomato sauce will always make me think of my mother in law
A great big wonderful family, not mine anymore.
I wish I could tell them I had no clue this was going to happen, I wish I could tell them I wish I could have changed it, I wish I could pound on the proverbial door and be let back in.
They'll never know how much I'm going to miss them and how horrible it feels to be on the outside looking in, and to have all my ties to them completely severed.
Just another loss to add to the pile
Katie
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Struggling with the sadness
I'm continually amazed at how it never gets easier, or less painful, to miss Everett.
I get by, through the day to day, by distraction, and blantant denial, but its inevitable that I'll let my guard down and allow myself to feel the pain and be completely laid out by it.
It started yesterday, though I'm not sure what brought it on, and its continuing on today, leaving me feeling constantly on the brink of tears and completely not in control of my heart. The videos I posted yetserday haven't helped. Don't get me wrong, I posted them because he is beautiful and I want the world to know him, and I wan to "see" him, but its bitter sweet. I don't enjoy the videos at all, they tug at my heart and quicken its beat, they bind my stomach in knots and fill my eyes with tears. They transport me back in time, where I was panicked and powerless and confused beyond measure, terrified at how out of control life was, and I feel it all over again. Its not pleasant, but its necessary, for I can't ever forget those feelings that tie me tightly to my son and help me remember better then any photo could. So, I posted some videos on a very low night, when was overwhelmed with loneliness for Everett, to help me remember, and to satisfy my desire to make others remember too. I got what I wanted, but now I pay the price of having opened an old wound, that though was never actually healed, it was closed and bearable.
It never fails to surprise me how fresh and potent my grief still is, it hasn't mellowed at all. Thank goodness it comes in waves and gives me days, weeks, or maybe even months of quiet reprieve before crashing onto my life again.
Now I am also thinking of upcoming birthdays. All three of my children were born within 3 days of each other in November, and that's coming up fast. I regard their upcoming birthdays with excitement and resistance, because I can't tell you how hard it is to celebrate Everett's birth without him. Its impossible. On November 17th I'm going to celebrate the birth of my twin boys, without one, its like a twisted, cruel joke life's playing on me. I have to do my best to make a happy day for Landon and Avery, who will have a joint party due to the close proximity of their celebratory days, but I also have to cope with the re-breaking of my heart. He's not here. He never had a 1st birthday, he never even had a 1 month birthday. What do I do about that?
My instinct is to do something grand in his name, to help others in ways I couldn't ever help him. But since the failing of my gala, I'm weary of that. But something needs to be done, to honor Everett and his life and his battle, and also help me! To help me feel as though I can help someone, or do something, in honor of my baby, who I never got to do a thing for, andwas powerless to help. I can't let his birthday pass without honoring it, but what to do?
Donate to Sick Kids? Maybe, its a good cause for sure?
To Plan Canada? Another amazing cause, it would do such great things in Everett's name!
Samaritans Purse?
Our local hospital? Gift baskets for other bererft parents?
A combination of the above?
I'll have to think on it, and think fast! Time isn't marching on, but rather it seems to be running, because how is it that it can be nearly 2 years since my baby boys were born?
Nearly 2 years old and living life without Everett still has me struggling. Grief on top of grief, on top of grief. Its difficult to find balance when life keeps trying to knock you down.
Katie
I get by, through the day to day, by distraction, and blantant denial, but its inevitable that I'll let my guard down and allow myself to feel the pain and be completely laid out by it.
It started yesterday, though I'm not sure what brought it on, and its continuing on today, leaving me feeling constantly on the brink of tears and completely not in control of my heart. The videos I posted yetserday haven't helped. Don't get me wrong, I posted them because he is beautiful and I want the world to know him, and I wan to "see" him, but its bitter sweet. I don't enjoy the videos at all, they tug at my heart and quicken its beat, they bind my stomach in knots and fill my eyes with tears. They transport me back in time, where I was panicked and powerless and confused beyond measure, terrified at how out of control life was, and I feel it all over again. Its not pleasant, but its necessary, for I can't ever forget those feelings that tie me tightly to my son and help me remember better then any photo could. So, I posted some videos on a very low night, when was overwhelmed with loneliness for Everett, to help me remember, and to satisfy my desire to make others remember too. I got what I wanted, but now I pay the price of having opened an old wound, that though was never actually healed, it was closed and bearable.
It never fails to surprise me how fresh and potent my grief still is, it hasn't mellowed at all. Thank goodness it comes in waves and gives me days, weeks, or maybe even months of quiet reprieve before crashing onto my life again.
Now I am also thinking of upcoming birthdays. All three of my children were born within 3 days of each other in November, and that's coming up fast. I regard their upcoming birthdays with excitement and resistance, because I can't tell you how hard it is to celebrate Everett's birth without him. Its impossible. On November 17th I'm going to celebrate the birth of my twin boys, without one, its like a twisted, cruel joke life's playing on me. I have to do my best to make a happy day for Landon and Avery, who will have a joint party due to the close proximity of their celebratory days, but I also have to cope with the re-breaking of my heart. He's not here. He never had a 1st birthday, he never even had a 1 month birthday. What do I do about that?
My instinct is to do something grand in his name, to help others in ways I couldn't ever help him. But since the failing of my gala, I'm weary of that. But something needs to be done, to honor Everett and his life and his battle, and also help me! To help me feel as though I can help someone, or do something, in honor of my baby, who I never got to do a thing for, andwas powerless to help. I can't let his birthday pass without honoring it, but what to do?
Donate to Sick Kids? Maybe, its a good cause for sure?
To Plan Canada? Another amazing cause, it would do such great things in Everett's name!
Samaritans Purse?
Our local hospital? Gift baskets for other bererft parents?
A combination of the above?
I'll have to think on it, and think fast! Time isn't marching on, but rather it seems to be running, because how is it that it can be nearly 2 years since my baby boys were born?
Nearly 2 years old and living life without Everett still has me struggling. Grief on top of grief, on top of grief. Its difficult to find balance when life keeps trying to knock you down.
Katie
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Everett
Not that you need reminding, but this is Everett. This is is how his life unfolded:
This is how he looked and how he sounded...
I'm not sure why it happened tonight, but my heart broke all over for Everett, and I miss him so greatly that I can't gather together the words to describe it. When I watch these videos, and see pictures of his life, I can almost go back in time, and see it and feel it and hear it all over again. I feel feel the fear and the hope and the heart break all over and the grief is as intense as it was when it began.
He was beautiful beyond description and so incredibly wanted and prayed for, and then he was gone. Here we sit nearly two years, still hopelessly caught up in the grieving process, still unable to make sense of it all. We're powerless to change a thing, nothing can make him less gone, and nothing can make us hurt less. Nothing can change what has transpired in the past years, no amount of wishing and willing can make our lives any different. Acceptance is hard. How can I accept this? How does a mother get acclimated to having a discordant amount of children to raise? I should have three, with one on the way, but I have two with none on the way, and no prospects for any future babies just yet. I have two phenomenal children but that doesn't lessen the pain of losing one (or two), I'm forever going to notice Everett's absence.
I know some others will too, for he touched so many hearts.
A very small consolation, if consolation is even possible.
Katie
This is how he looked and how he sounded...
I'm not sure why it happened tonight, but my heart broke all over for Everett, and I miss him so greatly that I can't gather together the words to describe it. When I watch these videos, and see pictures of his life, I can almost go back in time, and see it and feel it and hear it all over again. I feel feel the fear and the hope and the heart break all over and the grief is as intense as it was when it began.
He was beautiful beyond description and so incredibly wanted and prayed for, and then he was gone. Here we sit nearly two years, still hopelessly caught up in the grieving process, still unable to make sense of it all. We're powerless to change a thing, nothing can make him less gone, and nothing can make us hurt less. Nothing can change what has transpired in the past years, no amount of wishing and willing can make our lives any different. Acceptance is hard. How can I accept this? How does a mother get acclimated to having a discordant amount of children to raise? I should have three, with one on the way, but I have two with none on the way, and no prospects for any future babies just yet. I have two phenomenal children but that doesn't lessen the pain of losing one (or two), I'm forever going to notice Everett's absence.
I know some others will too, for he touched so many hearts.
A very small consolation, if consolation is even possible.
Katie
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Happy Birthday to Me!
Today is my 29th birthday. My very last year of my twenties. I'm spending the day with my gorgeous kids, and the evening with some good friends, what more could I ask for? Well, I could ask for more, but the point is that I really need to be grateful with what I have, and I am.
Today is the perfect day to take stock of all the gifts in my life, and there are so many!
Firstly, I'm alive and healthy!
I live in on a quiet street, in a safe town, in an amazing Country
I have a home, a cute, comfortable place of my own
I've had a great education and a good career
I have amazing children
and fabulous parents, and grandparents
I have beautiful sisters, who are also great friends
I have supportive, kind and amazing friends
I have a great church filled with amazing people
I have talents
I have goals
I have the means to achieve them
and I have hope!
What reasonable person could ask for more?
Not this lady.....
I've learned enough in the past 29 years to know how truly blessed my life is!
Happy Birthday to Me!
Katie
Today is the perfect day to take stock of all the gifts in my life, and there are so many!
Firstly, I'm alive and healthy!
I live in on a quiet street, in a safe town, in an amazing Country
I have a home, a cute, comfortable place of my own
I've had a great education and a good career
I have amazing children
and fabulous parents, and grandparents
I have beautiful sisters, who are also great friends
I have supportive, kind and amazing friends
I have a great church filled with amazing people
I have talents
I have goals
I have the means to achieve them
and I have hope!
What reasonable person could ask for more?
Not this lady.....
I've learned enough in the past 29 years to know how truly blessed my life is!
Happy Birthday to Me!
Katie
Saturday, September 5, 2009
So this is life..............
Tonight is one of those night where I feel like slave to my thoughts, to my memories. I should be in bed, I should have gone hours ago, and put my weary mind to rest, but here I sit. Parked in front of my computer screen, melancholy music playing, and the faint hum of appliances keeping me company, the house is otherwise still and quiet, the perfect breeding ground for lamentations and wandering thoughts.
Tonight I'm thinking of the past, which is most often the case. I'm thinking of what I've had and what I've lost, and how things could have been, how they should have been. I'm thinking of Everett, and of Elvis, and there's an undeniable ache in my chest and a welling of heat and moisture behind my eyes. Tonight I'm waxing poetic, and philosophic, and I'm eager to make some sense of this mess that has become my life. Joe Purdy, my companion in grief, is providing a thoughtful and heartfelt soundtrack to tonight's soul searching, thanks Joe.
Life appears to be a series of highs and lows, successes and failures, celebrations and mornings. We ride the ups and down's like a roller coaster, sometimes exhilarated with hands in the air, some times terrified and pleading for the operator to stop the ride. In hindsight we can see that the ride wouldn't have been quite as thrilling without the fearful apprehension that comes before the twists and loops, its the unknown and the fear there of that adds the element of excitement and the feeling of being truly alive. Too bad we generally only know this in hindsight. Generally in life, we only enjoy the highs, the predictable joys of life at its best. But the highs wouldn't feel high if the lows weren't so darn low now would they? Damn life's lows for being as necessary as breath.
I tried to go to bed tonight, at a decent hour, determined to make up for some lost sleep, but my book I was reading until fatigue overwhelmed me made me sad, and contemplative. Having been so tired to begin with, my defenses against sad thoughts were weakened, and I allowed myself to think of my husband. Not with anger, or with resentment, but with love and with longing, and I ached to feel the shift of weight in the bed as he climbed in beside me, the tug on the duvet as he settled himself in, even the uneven and noisy shift of his breathing as he drifted from conscious, to semi conscious, to dead to the world. Tonight I miss my husband.
And since I'm indulging in painful longing tonight, I thought of Everett too. I strained to remember the weight of him in the crook of my left arm, the silky dark hair on his head, the tiny cleft of his chin, and my heart nearly stopped beating. I flashed to a photograph of me in the NICU with both babies, one cradled in each arm, displayed proudly to the camera, fatigue and joy adoring my face. This is how it was, and how it should have stayed. The life I wanted. The life I'll never know. Damn life for changing just when it gets comfortable.
The truth is, I don't regognize my life. I don't know the tired and worrisome woman in the mirror, with dark sad eyes that project a muddle of confusion and pleading. Pleading to be rescued from this disaster, saved from this difficult phase of life. I've entered into one of those dips of the roller coaster, I'm in the midst of a big loop, I can't see what lies ahead and I'm one of those riders calling out for the man at the controls to have mercy and stop the ride. But the ride won't stop, and I know it, just like riders on a thrill ride, you're on it to the end, whether you're having fun or not, you just have to trust that the maker of the ride knew what he was doing, and you'll come out safely on the other side. That trust is difficult. Damn faith for being so contrary to human nature but so incredibly vital and important.
Not too long ago I was a happily married woman, a young mother with a glorious baby girl and identical twin boys on the way. I was basking in all my pregnant glory, feeling elated and womanly and proud, feeling vital and important and undeniably pleased with life and my many blessings. Not long ago, my life made sense, I was comfortable in my own skin, I was excited for what was next.
Now I'm strained, weary and unrecognizable. Abandoned, confused and pained with more loses then I ever cared to know. I bask in nothing, but am in constant search of refuge from my life and from myself. I'm calling out to God for comfort and protection from this world, and though I can't hear him, I am thankful that I still have enough faith left to know that he's here. Having been through loss and pain and despair before and having had my faith strengthend for it, I'm not so hopeless now as I could be, and have been. I know that this is life, a big, crazy, brilliant and horrifying ride. I know the highs are fabulous and the lows are devestating, but I also know that at the end that both are vital in making the ride memorable, and real, and relevant.
I should have gone to bed hours ago, just turned out the lights, pulled up the covers and given way to my tired mind, and I would have, if thoughts were as easy to turn off as lights. Waxing poetic and feeling deeply contemplative, I'm in no condition to sleep. Ironically, as tired as I am, and with feelings and thoughts as clear as mud, I'm in no condition to think either.
Perhaps the best thing to be done tonight is indugle in a big dose of B-Flo therapy, it never fails to make my heart beat faster, and skip a beat or two as well!
Katie
Tonight I'm thinking of the past, which is most often the case. I'm thinking of what I've had and what I've lost, and how things could have been, how they should have been. I'm thinking of Everett, and of Elvis, and there's an undeniable ache in my chest and a welling of heat and moisture behind my eyes. Tonight I'm waxing poetic, and philosophic, and I'm eager to make some sense of this mess that has become my life. Joe Purdy, my companion in grief, is providing a thoughtful and heartfelt soundtrack to tonight's soul searching, thanks Joe.
Life appears to be a series of highs and lows, successes and failures, celebrations and mornings. We ride the ups and down's like a roller coaster, sometimes exhilarated with hands in the air, some times terrified and pleading for the operator to stop the ride. In hindsight we can see that the ride wouldn't have been quite as thrilling without the fearful apprehension that comes before the twists and loops, its the unknown and the fear there of that adds the element of excitement and the feeling of being truly alive. Too bad we generally only know this in hindsight. Generally in life, we only enjoy the highs, the predictable joys of life at its best. But the highs wouldn't feel high if the lows weren't so darn low now would they? Damn life's lows for being as necessary as breath.
I tried to go to bed tonight, at a decent hour, determined to make up for some lost sleep, but my book I was reading until fatigue overwhelmed me made me sad, and contemplative. Having been so tired to begin with, my defenses against sad thoughts were weakened, and I allowed myself to think of my husband. Not with anger, or with resentment, but with love and with longing, and I ached to feel the shift of weight in the bed as he climbed in beside me, the tug on the duvet as he settled himself in, even the uneven and noisy shift of his breathing as he drifted from conscious, to semi conscious, to dead to the world. Tonight I miss my husband.
And since I'm indulging in painful longing tonight, I thought of Everett too. I strained to remember the weight of him in the crook of my left arm, the silky dark hair on his head, the tiny cleft of his chin, and my heart nearly stopped beating. I flashed to a photograph of me in the NICU with both babies, one cradled in each arm, displayed proudly to the camera, fatigue and joy adoring my face. This is how it was, and how it should have stayed. The life I wanted. The life I'll never know. Damn life for changing just when it gets comfortable.
The truth is, I don't regognize my life. I don't know the tired and worrisome woman in the mirror, with dark sad eyes that project a muddle of confusion and pleading. Pleading to be rescued from this disaster, saved from this difficult phase of life. I've entered into one of those dips of the roller coaster, I'm in the midst of a big loop, I can't see what lies ahead and I'm one of those riders calling out for the man at the controls to have mercy and stop the ride. But the ride won't stop, and I know it, just like riders on a thrill ride, you're on it to the end, whether you're having fun or not, you just have to trust that the maker of the ride knew what he was doing, and you'll come out safely on the other side. That trust is difficult. Damn faith for being so contrary to human nature but so incredibly vital and important.
Not too long ago I was a happily married woman, a young mother with a glorious baby girl and identical twin boys on the way. I was basking in all my pregnant glory, feeling elated and womanly and proud, feeling vital and important and undeniably pleased with life and my many blessings. Not long ago, my life made sense, I was comfortable in my own skin, I was excited for what was next.
Now I'm strained, weary and unrecognizable. Abandoned, confused and pained with more loses then I ever cared to know. I bask in nothing, but am in constant search of refuge from my life and from myself. I'm calling out to God for comfort and protection from this world, and though I can't hear him, I am thankful that I still have enough faith left to know that he's here. Having been through loss and pain and despair before and having had my faith strengthend for it, I'm not so hopeless now as I could be, and have been. I know that this is life, a big, crazy, brilliant and horrifying ride. I know the highs are fabulous and the lows are devestating, but I also know that at the end that both are vital in making the ride memorable, and real, and relevant.
I should have gone to bed hours ago, just turned out the lights, pulled up the covers and given way to my tired mind, and I would have, if thoughts were as easy to turn off as lights. Waxing poetic and feeling deeply contemplative, I'm in no condition to sleep. Ironically, as tired as I am, and with feelings and thoughts as clear as mud, I'm in no condition to think either.
Perhaps the best thing to be done tonight is indugle in a big dose of B-Flo therapy, it never fails to make my heart beat faster, and skip a beat or two as well!
Katie
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