Being Alright With Not Being The Same 2-5-21
The words, “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again” resonated deeply with me.
They were spoken by someone who had lost his beloved after many years together.
I have thought and felt the very same way, many times, over the last few years.
How could life ever have meaning again? Where would I be able to find joy again?
Initially there were no indications that I would ever recover from the loss and sadness.
My entire world had lost all its color, had gone dark and I could barely function.
Over time, however, signs of spring and the newness it brings began to get my attention.
Sometimes I heard my own laughter breaking the silence, startling and surprising me.
Without really knowing it, time was buffing out the sharp edges, softening the blow.
I suppose I cried a little less, smiled a little more and began to notice I was still alive.
Because I had lost the ability to pay attention life had gone on, seemingly without me.
And in the interim parts of me began to heal a little. I was no longer an open wound.
Maybe this is the resilience that is spoken about. That tenaciousness of being human.
I realize that not everyone survives deep trauma but the reality is that most of us do.
Sometimes I have thought of myself as a stone tossed and tumbled about in the sea.
Originally rough, cracked and jagged after a long time becoming smooth and beautiful.
When I look back at where I was I do see some progress and I am truly grateful for it.
In spite of wrestling with thoughts of “who am I?” I think I’m beginning to find out.
At least I feel a bit of a spark inside tickling a curiosity to find out what might be next.
This is new and I think it’s because I have begun to accept this new version of me.
Moving out from under the perpetual cloud, day in and day out, one step at a time
I found myself a stranger in a strange land but I am beginning to be okay with it.
I don’t know when that happened but I suspect it didn’t suddenly happen all at once.
It’s been a gradual metamorphosis from obliteration to finally feeling I might live again.
Grief, that was once a stalking hound has surprisingly become a welcome companion.
It has shown the way through every necessary tear, teaching me the value of them all.
So now when I remember, I might shed more tears but then find that I am smiling too,
I am realizing that I have actually become more than I was not in spite of, but because of.
Being blasted apart and then having the willingness to open myself to be repaired
I didn’t know it then but see it now, love is putting me back together one piece at a time.