I struggled so much this week. I have let go of some of the inappropriate things I was doing for support. They have been replaced my nothing but myself. So the barricades are down and the waves crashing onto my shore are threefold what I thought I would face. Or something like that. Either way, I had three anxiety attacks in one day, found myself breathing deeply to avoid yelling, and finally had to take a mental health day on Friday.
Today was like being dipped in Novocaine and drilled on. We went to Adventure Park for a birthday party. Last time we were there was the last little playful adventure we had with John. I remember how hard it was to maneuver through everything with him on the wheel chair. I remember constantly having to lift his left arm and put it in his lap so that it would not bang on things. I remember how crooked his smile was, with the muscle weakness intensifying, and how hard that made it for me to truly enjoy his smile. Then we went to the memorial service for my friend's father. I didn't cry. I did get tears in my eyes. The quotes that she and her husband ended their speeches with wonderful. The service wasn't too long. But my head was spinning, leaving me a little dizzy. The exhaustion that lays on my shoulders feels elephantine.
Somewhere in the deep center of my chest, I think I can feel the place that proves I will get through this period of pain. I can't really explain that. Nor can I really reach it. But it is there. And if I am wrong, and it isn't there, I have to make it. I have to build it into that tiny hollow space, make it grow and get stronger, choose the color, the size, the shape...
Aiden asked me this morning if I am used to not having Daddy now. I told him I am not. He said "I am." We talked about how he will miss his dad at different times throughout his life. We talked about how we had different relationships, that he was their dad, but my husband. He was my favorite grown up human being in the world. And Neil has been talking about his dad, too. He has said that Daddy is in his heart, that he doesn't want me to to die. My little three year old is thinking of these things at random moments in our day. Plus, at the service today, Aiden was asking questions about if what was coming was going to be like when his dad died. How is it that I live in this bizarre, alternate reality? I never had any sort of plan. I never said that I wanted a guy like x, y, and z. I didn't have a plan for how old I would be when I got married, how many kids I would have, or any of those things. I never even dreamed of what my wedding would be like, until after John proposed. But I never expected something like this. And I just do not know what to do with this.
I do not want to be alone. Not for five years, not for eleven, most certainly not for my life. But I just don't know how I will ever find someone that will love me through the ruins that surround my heart. Through the insane anger that seems to permeate everything around me. And at the same time, I do not want to be with someone, like in Some Kind of Wonderful, for the wrong reasons. I would rather be alone that with someone who wasn't kind enough, patient, committed, funny, smart...whose crazy fit my heart well enough to reach the gaps in me.
And I have no clue how to find that kind of person. I have no clue how to be a solo mom. I have no clue how to keep the house clean, the laundry done, be a wonderful teacher, keep my temper in control, care for the dogs...in short, I have no clue what I am doing. I have no clue who I will be when this part of my journey settles enough that I can see around me. I wish I had someone here, close enough to me, to help me remember some of the things that I want to be...but we all have our own journeys. And many people love me. But none enough to accurately help me with this. It has to be me. And I have learned to love myself and live well on my own in the past. It's just that now I have three kids, a teaching career, and soooo much more pain I have to deal with. I have a good archetype to work with, a good foundation. But I have no mason to help me build. I have no guide, no compass, no active team of workers. I have lovely random patrons and momentary hands to join my cause. I am incredibly grateful for those...
But I am lonely, and I have many broken parts, and I am scared. And angry. And it is so damn hard.
And it doesn't matter. I have to keep going...I have our babies to care for.