Just feel it. All the feels.
Feelings. I don't really like feelings. You will notice in my previous writings, that I don't ever say, "I was feeling." I say, "I was thinking." I like logical conclusions. I like problems that have solutions. I like making a plan and putting it into action. I don't like feelings.
I see these things people write about feeling one thing inside but portraying something different on the outside. This doesn't compute for me. I usually dive head first into whatever the challenge is and not run away. I cannot act like I feel one way, when I feel the opposite.
Plus, life has taught me that when you have feelings you get hurt. That is part of my personality. On the Meyers Briggs I am an ENTJ. A T, not an F, thinking not feeling. I like logic and I like being in charge and marching forward. Since I am also an Enneagram obsessed nerd, I will also add that I am an 8 or a Challenger. I learned early to pick up my armor to defend myself. I don't ever want you to know that I have feelings.
Well, a lot of that has shifted since Justin died. My feelings have pretty much been on display for all to view, and I have little control over them.
Well, a lot of that has shifted since Justin died. My feelings have pretty much been on display for all to view, and I have little control over them.
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| Lyrics by Sleeping at Last Enneagram Eight |
I see these things people write about feeling one thing inside but portraying something different on the outside. This doesn't compute for me. I usually dive head first into whatever the challenge is and not run away. I cannot act like I feel one way, when I feel the opposite.
I actually didn't realize this summer that I was keeping busy, so as to not think about how I feel. I thought I was thinking through things as I rode my bike and as I pulled weeds. But I realized at counseling last week that I was running myself ragged to keep from feeling. I didn't write as much this summer, because I didn't slow down long enough to feel anything. I don't know what to do with this stage of my grief. In a lot of ways I am ready to move on and in some ways I feel like I don't even know what that means.
I never thought I was one of those people who just kept going, acting like nothing was wrong. However, I took my feelings of fear and the unknown and I took my restlessness and stuffed it into activity. I buried it in my garden and I rolled it around with my bicycle and I pulled at the frustration it left behind. I read, I biked, I worked, I traveled, I talked, I prayed, I played, I wrote, I did Bible study, I exercised, and I did just about anything that would keep me from feeling sad. I don't want to feel helpless and alone.
I am sad and I hate it. I don't want to be sad. I want to find fresh joy in each day. I want to see all of the beautiful things and people that are in my life now because of what I lost. I want other people to see hope in my struggle, and not just the constant clawing struggle. I want there to be purpose and meaning to the loss and to the emptiness. I want to have hope for the future. I don't want to hear about someone I know from college, whose husband has cancer, and wonder why another family might have to go through what we have gone through.
But today, I decided to stop doing, partially because I am sick, my body is saying slow it down. I felt sad tonight and thought about something my therapist said last week. What if you just let yourself think that or feel that? So, I thought what if I just embrace the sadness tonight. What if I just sit outside with Chloe while she works on her homework and think about how sad it is that she doesn't have a Dad anymore. He just adored her. She shouldn't have to have anxiety at 8 about whether her Mom might die too.
I thought about what it was like having a husband, because of the chapter I am reading in my bible study. It wasn't all roses and happiness, but I would take the bad back with the good. I miss him. I miss his dimple and his blue eyes. I miss the way he would belly laugh at something. I miss messing with him by rearranging the silverware drawer. I miss the way he wiggled his toes when he sat in a chair and how he left all his clothes on the floor right next to the bed. I miss having deep conversations with him about life, God and politics. I miss his logic when mine ran away.
It's hard to be alone; in this house that he used to help fill. I remember I used to wonder how single parents did it all. Well, now I know, you just do what you have to do, one day at a time. I can deal with all of the things. I can do all the stuff. I can schedule car junk and use power tools and get the taxes done. What I forever suck at is alone. I want to get better at just being by myself. I need to get better.
What I keep coming back to is what if I am still alone when Chloe, my youngest, leaves home? Every time, I write it off, saying that won't happen. But let's take that feeling break and just follow this for a minute. What if I am still alone in 10 years? I would be 53. What if there is no one to talk to in this house? What if it is just me and the cats, meowing at each other. What would I do? Would I cook? Would I have people over or have someone live with me? Start my own version of the Golden Girls? Move?
Where would life lead me? What would God have me do, or who could I help? How would that feel to not have anyone but myself to take care of? What would I do with all that time? Would I travel alone? Maybe start some new hobbies?
You may say, like I have in my own head, you will find someone. I sure hope so because this girl doesn't even like grocery shopping by herself. I have never entered a movie theatre by myself and not having an adult here in the evenings and on the weekends is like torture for me. But I am learning to slow down. I am learning that feelings aren't all that bad. Tonight I felt them and I survived. Now, back in your box feelings; just for the night, we'll deal with you again tomorrow.
I am sad and I hate it. I don't want to be sad. I want to find fresh joy in each day. I want to see all of the beautiful things and people that are in my life now because of what I lost. I want other people to see hope in my struggle, and not just the constant clawing struggle. I want there to be purpose and meaning to the loss and to the emptiness. I want to have hope for the future. I don't want to hear about someone I know from college, whose husband has cancer, and wonder why another family might have to go through what we have gone through.
But today, I decided to stop doing, partially because I am sick, my body is saying slow it down. I felt sad tonight and thought about something my therapist said last week. What if you just let yourself think that or feel that? So, I thought what if I just embrace the sadness tonight. What if I just sit outside with Chloe while she works on her homework and think about how sad it is that she doesn't have a Dad anymore. He just adored her. She shouldn't have to have anxiety at 8 about whether her Mom might die too.
I thought about what it was like having a husband, because of the chapter I am reading in my bible study. It wasn't all roses and happiness, but I would take the bad back with the good. I miss him. I miss his dimple and his blue eyes. I miss the way he would belly laugh at something. I miss messing with him by rearranging the silverware drawer. I miss the way he wiggled his toes when he sat in a chair and how he left all his clothes on the floor right next to the bed. I miss having deep conversations with him about life, God and politics. I miss his logic when mine ran away.
It's hard to be alone; in this house that he used to help fill. I remember I used to wonder how single parents did it all. Well, now I know, you just do what you have to do, one day at a time. I can deal with all of the things. I can do all the stuff. I can schedule car junk and use power tools and get the taxes done. What I forever suck at is alone. I want to get better at just being by myself. I need to get better.
What I keep coming back to is what if I am still alone when Chloe, my youngest, leaves home? Every time, I write it off, saying that won't happen. But let's take that feeling break and just follow this for a minute. What if I am still alone in 10 years? I would be 53. What if there is no one to talk to in this house? What if it is just me and the cats, meowing at each other. What would I do? Would I cook? Would I have people over or have someone live with me? Start my own version of the Golden Girls? Move?
Where would life lead me? What would God have me do, or who could I help? How would that feel to not have anyone but myself to take care of? What would I do with all that time? Would I travel alone? Maybe start some new hobbies?
You may say, like I have in my own head, you will find someone. I sure hope so because this girl doesn't even like grocery shopping by herself. I have never entered a movie theatre by myself and not having an adult here in the evenings and on the weekends is like torture for me. But I am learning to slow down. I am learning that feelings aren't all that bad. Tonight I felt them and I survived. Now, back in your box feelings; just for the night, we'll deal with you again tomorrow.
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