Where exactly did this saying come from? Whether you think it's an English Proverb or would rather believe it came from ancient Greece, I personally believe whoever said it, in whatever language it was said in, was full of shit.
After suffering another devastating loss in October, I've been just that...suffering. Each time it gets more difficult. Difficult to accept, difficult to move on, difficult to keep doing what I've been doing. My work is suffering, my home is suffering, my husband is suffering. Beyond all of the crazy hormonal issues, I'm just left with this overwhelming feeling of grief and sadness. How do you get over it? How do you continue on?
I am thankful beyond words for the friends I have who have been incredibly supportive and understanding, and for my amazing husband who knows just when to step back and give me some space or to step in and give me a hug. But all of the comfort in the world doesn't HEAL me.
I have broken, shattered little pieces of me all over the place and while I can pretend to sweep them up and start gluing them back together again, each time this happens I get a little more fragile. I have a real problem with pushing too hard, too fast. Even when I have an "ok" day, I'm finding I backslide very quickly. And even if those backslides leave as quickly as they come on, I'd much rather them not be happening at all.
Yes, I know I NEED to grieve. But I don't WANT to. Instead I want to overwhelm my brain with things. Things to do, things to look at, projects to think about. If I sit down with nothing to do or to keep my brain occupied, the negative thoughts start. The "I don't think I can do this ever again" thoughts. The "I don't WANT to do this anymore" thoughts. The "maybe I don't deserve this" thoughts. The problem I have though, is this is not my personality. I am not a "woe is me...life is so unfair" person. Never have been, never will be. I am strong. I KNOW I am strong. Fiercely strong. But sometimes, just sometimes, I'm not. I am ripped apart, I am heartbroken.
At the moment, I'm lacking my usual determination, my drive. It's a truthfully scary place to be, I am here so infrequently. I am stuck between wanting to reach out and wanting to hide in a tiny little black hole. Between giving this everything I've got and giving it up completely.
There are new doctors and test galore ahead and I cannot make myself pick up that phone to make the calls I need to make. It makes me infinitely sad to have failed at something again, especially when it's what I want most in this world. I just need to keep reminding myself that I am not a failure. I refuse to be a failure. The catch-22 here is...if I don't try again, I can't fail again. Therein lies my dilemma.
