One year later

One year. One year ago today my life blew up. It was instant. The loss happened so quickly, I was left gasping and scrambling. I am still processing. I am still very much grieving.

I made it through the year of firsts. Holidays. Birthdays. Every season. It's interesting what you think will hurt doesn't, and what sneaks up on you with a kick to the guts. Christmas was fine, but the Tulip Festival was another story. The closing of the old bowling alley, a certain hotel in Vegas changing it's name...confirmation that my old life was over.

It's been one year since we were all under the same roof.
It's been one year since there was a real face-to-face conversation.

For one year I've avoided almost all the old haunts.
I had no energy left to spare to enjoy a lot of the things I once enjoyed.
I spent a year without my roller skates.

I've spent a lot of time feeling broken. Foggy. Scared. Bullied. Feeling that a lot of what had been the most meaningful in my life was now for naught. Wondering if I am supposed to go on living. Missing my old self. Wishing for the confidence and creativity I once had to return. Feeling hopeless that they ever will.

Somehow, I kept pushing through, and had a lot of wonderful experiences, too. I found a new freedom I enjoyed. I made deep connections with incredible women who share similar stories.

I continue to work hard in therapy to heal from my trauma and PTSD. I am slowly, slowly making progress. Baby steps. Forward motion. Glimpses of my old strength are becoming more frequent, and the waves of anxiety are happening less. The decision to take control of my own healing in a situation that left me so hopeless has been empowering and crucial.

I have gotten over the pangs of both heartbreak and jealousy that would hit when I would see a baby out with both a mom, and a dad. I am working on getting over the pangs of both heartbreak and jealously that hit when I see an announcement of baby number two.

I have forced myself out of my shell and comfort zone, a ton. This has been one of the best things for me. I have met people I never would have met otherwise and have tried my hardest to learn from each person who has crossed my path, knowing that they were all placed there for a reason.

I took some inspiration recently from a woman who after experiencing loss said something like, "Option A isn't available. And if option A isn't available...then we're going to have to rock the shit out of option B." I am still wrapping my head and heart around the fact that yes, option A isn't available. But I'm feeling more optimistic that once I know what option B is, I can rock that.

I have met new men. It's been more of a social experiment for me than anything else, because I've never dated. I've been in a long term relationship since I was 19. I need to learn who I am around new men, and what I want. It's few and far between. Dating for me has been conversation, or food or a drink. I've had a year without romance in my life. And that's okay.

I slowly feel my creativity, focus, and spirituality coming back. Like sparks lighting up through my system...a tiny bit here and there at a time...slowly coming back online. Back to life. And I'd rather give myself time to see it through and feel the difference, than to jump off a bridge.

I am learning what boundaries I need, and how to begin to draw them.

I believe, with nothing but trust and some blind faith, that there is something more for me. I don't know what that means, or when I'll get there, but I know I'm not on this earth to be shattered and stopped at this point in the story. What if this is right when it's about to get good? I have to know.

And then of course, my boy. My boy. My boy. My world. My son. I am the most happy, grounded, myself, rooted in earth, and in my essence when I am being mother. I am not sad. I am not lost. I am fully present in each moment. I am dropped in, I am there. I am just as in awe of him as I have ever been, if not more so. I know there are big lessons he is here to teach me, big things he is here to do, and I am HIS mother for reasons I have yet to know. He is my joy and my balm.

I had never known what regret felt like until this year. But when I look at my son, I know it couldn't have all been for nothing because HE came from this. Little blonde being of light, life, and magic.

I have been thinking so much about this day as it approached. I didn't know how I'd feel, or what I'd want to say. I wanted to wake up in my full power, a sense of relief. Healed.

But instead I feel sad. I feel in time I'll be okay. That one day I will wake up that way.

But today I'm sad, and that's okay, too.


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August blurbs

A couple of musings from August 16th, the anniversary that wasn't.

one

In 2012, I shattered, entire. As I built myself back over a summer, fall, and winter, I was never more open. The omens were everywhere, and that's when I learned the universe is tailored just for me, as it is for you. 

Relatives who had passed on came to visit me in animal form. The animals were everywhere. There were notes scrawled on the sidewalks, and the walls. I had visions of the child I would one day mother. I had dreams where I traveled from this plane, I saw heaven. 

Never again, have I experienced that kind of connection to the universe. Never again, have I been that earthed.

Maybe I didn't need it. Until now. "I could sure use an omen or two", I've been whispering to the cosmos. 

But I know it requires just as much effort on my part. 

I must not be cloudy. 

I must pay attention. 

I must know it when I see it. 

The visit from my ancestors yesterday was one. 

When you left me, I experienced a dream like those from five years ago. This time it was to be embraced by a real, and equal love. How different.

Today's omen came in the reminder that there are no coincidences, and time is magical.

A chance conversation with a stranger to give me all the right reminders, and to send me on my way...okay. 

two

What I would say to you today, if I could?

Today, I sat where we sat every year. I had to go to our spot, because where else would I go? Buried deep, or not so deep at all, was my hope to see you. To see you had taken the day off. To be here. 

"Your last name is Wride?" Surely someone would say. "How funny, there is a man here with that same last name!"

I wanted to write you. "Please, as someone who was so recently your wife, and love, give me a moment off the record. Please, if there is any part of you, I don't care how small, who doubts this...meet me tonight. If somewhere in there, past ego, past pride, you feel you don't want this, this emotional, financial, mental, devastation of us, meet me. Meet me in the lobby of our spot. 6 pm. The time we said our vows three years ago today. I'll be waiting for you with a glass of champagne. And if you choose not to, please don't use this against me. Please disregard this, as someone who was so recently your wife, and love."

In my minds eye, he he comes. He walks in, wearing his suit. He doesn't want our destruction. He wants to come home. "Yes," I say. But I approach delicately. I ask we just try for a day, or a weekend. It's so fragile. 

And that's where it stops. I can't see further. And I know I am not allowed to ask this of him, although this is my biggest wish. 

Come home, my heart says. Come home. 

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Happy Anniversary

Tomorrow is our anniversary. Three years since the most beautiful day of my life. My beautiful husband cried beautiful tears and spoke beautiful words he'd written, promising to love me forever. There are certain lines that still play in my head.

Today, I am sad. I am on day three of sad. After feeling pretty good for awhile, I'm experiencing a small setback. I am still so confused. I don't understand how one minute a family vacation is being booked, we are talking of purchasing burial plots, I am suddenly told I must have another baby or our relationship is over, then six days later, it's really done.

I told you on the spot I would do anything for you. Yes to anything, yes to everything. You tricked me. Did you mean to? I spent six days agonizing. Searching myself to see how quickly I could have another baby. At my deepest interior I found I could. I caught myself up, up to the immediate yes I gave you. Here I am. Our son is 17 months tomorrow. My hormones have settled. The haze has cleared. I am ready for our baby and my option is gone.

I may never be able to have another baby again, and you took it all away from me. 

So here I am. Sad, today. 

"I still feel like he is my husband, I still feel like I belong to him", I say out loud. I am certain if I try hard enough, I can wish it back into existence. He will reach out. He'll say it's gone too far. He'll be ready to put in the work. To apologize for ever scaring me, calling me names. The weight of this is just too much, today. 

I don't want to go it alone. I don't want to lose my life. My home. My family. I can't see into the future, and that's so, so scary. 

I am outside with my mom, and son. I am swirling inside with my thoughts and my should-haves and can't-haves. I am imagining various timelines for myself. I let myself linger in the one where I am still married to my love. Where we wake up in the same place. Where he comes home after work. Where I am pregnant. Where my time goes to raising my babies. Its a cozy, small life. The small life.

Right then, a breeze blows, and I feel the energy of my female ancestors pass through me. For a moment, I am frozen, chills run though my body. I feel the size and shape of my physical self, the space I take up, and I am more deeply rooted in my being than I have been in months. I am momentarily statuesque. "I can feel my armor", is what comes into my head. I let myself wear it in that moment, it all happens so fast, and I hear them whisper to me loud and clear, "oh no, you are not meant for small. There is big out there. There is big for you." And just like that, they are gone...

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