What made this little coincidence to me significant is that today would have been a fairly notable marker of time passed, my 24th wedding anniversary. What has surprised me is that I've taken this well in stride. Anticipating the anniversary of my husband's death knocked me into a weeks long depression. On the anniversary itself, I received the wake up call I wrote about a couple of entries ago.
Without plan, to do list or even firm resolve, in the last few weeks, I've basically chosen to stay in the present. I've worked, respecting that even though I have abilities far greater than my job requires, I still contribute something of value to my customers and co-workers as well as taking care of myself. I've stretched myself to see and talk with local friends and visit my family, instead of hiding away from people. I've made a point to be friendlier in public, instead of projecting the body and spoken language that says "leave me alone." I've played around with hair and makeup to update my appearance. I've watched more TV shows and movies. I can feel the first itch of a viable plan (instead of a daydream) to make bigger changes.
I've also made a point of staying out of my own head. Since I'd been in a rather dark place, this was good. In effect, I haven't allowed myself to think or feel too deeply about anything personal. It's easy for me to go in the deep water. I'm comfortable there, but my life needs balance, and it was time to head back to shore and just let my toes play in the surf. The downside of this is that my writing comes from a fairly deep place in me, even when the writing is light and fluffy. I have to open the doors to whatever is in there and let it come out. I've felt more peaceful in the last few weeks than I have in a long time, but if I'm not writing, I'm not really myself. That's an absence I will not abide.
For a couple of weeks now, I've looked at my untouched journal. I've remembered exactly which pens feel really good in my hand and have just the right flow of ink. That little, formerly calloused groove on my third finger feels soft, but it's waiting and reminding me how it got there. This blog has sat dusty and abandoned. I feel like I've forgotten how to write a clean, comprehensible sentence, and it's time to exercise those muscles again.
Time has passed, and things have changed. I no longer have the life I knew, and I'm beginning to accept that. This is my life now. Through all the changes, I know these things. I'm a woman of character, intelligence, strength and love. I've handled multiple losses and challenges for quite a few years in a row now, and a good bit of the grief each of those demanded was delayed and came due when my husband died. That doesn't minimize the mourning that was just for him. How much we hurt each other did not mitigate the deep and wonderful love we had for each other. That may be another form of balance if the universe's sense of humor is as twisted as it seems. I'm a good woman, I've lived a pretty good life, and I will continue to do so. Time is moving on, and I no longer feel stuck.