different type of night terrors

I find I can do okay through the day.  Sometimes I do well- keep moving, kids laugh, if I sit I read...other days I just barely scrape the bottom of the barrel that is my heart.  I still feel guilty for using the t.v. the way that I do.  I hate t.v.  Didn't have cable for years before I met John.  But it does help keep the kids more or less out of trouble...

And then the night comes.  If I don't have wine, or a book to wrap up in, or company to help me smile and usher the time past with, well, presence and care I guess...the night creeps into my bones.  my heart.  it pricks the back of my eyes.  I feel like if I go to sleep, the time hurries forward and carries me farther from the days when I could see him, hold him, kiss him.  I want to go backwards, not forwards.  But that is just asking for trouble...

I heard from someone, connected with someone, from my past.  And it has made me wonder about so many things...John got past my defenses because he was patient, diligent, good hearted, stubborn, a talker as well as a listener...he saw something shiny in me, something special.  When I thought I was just that girl that no one could ever love.  When I thought the only thing about me that interested guys was what I gave away too freely, searching for acceptance.  This past person, I forgive them their indiscretion to me.  It was so long ago, I was barely more than a child.  What happened was far from violent, but it corroborated the ideas that my mother and grandmother slammed down my throat...that I was dirty, unworthy, bad.  My grandmother used to call me a cow...which in America seems confusing and a bit off, but apparently in Lithuania, if you call someone a farm animal, it is the lowest of insults.  Awesome.

Now that John is gone, I have to, at some point, think about dating again.  I feel like I will never ever be ready,  EVER.  So I feel like I need to start thinking about it far sooner than anyone would be able to make sense of.  Because I don't want to depend on the work that John did before, or require some new guy (ew, what a shitty thought...sigh) to cut a new path.  I want to carve my own path.  I want to find the worth than is in me by looking at my life, paying attention to the amazing man who loved me so much and trying to figure out just WHY he loved me.  From my own perspective.  Because even when he was alive, I questioned that love too often.  Nothing he did really lead me there...not in so many words or deeds...he was forgetful and your typical guy in many ways needing anniversary reminders, ideas for gifts that he forgot to pay attention to when shopping.  But he would always get up and even cross the room to get my glass of water that was just barely out of my reach because I had just gotten comfortable.  Even if he was already comfortable.  Even with that floating on the surface of my soul, I still thought he couldn't REALLY love me, not enough...I wasn't a coach, didn't know diving, barely got to learn a barani before I got pregnant and couldn't bounce trampoline anymore (that is a front flip with a half twist).  I was never an athlete.  Sure, I was athletic, I could throw and catch across just about any room and often did, I liked to bike and walk and swim and hike and camp and all that...but he just did pretty much all of it crazier and, well, better than me.  So even up to the end, I still wondered why he loved me sometimes...

Where ever I go from here, I need first to honor him by loving me.  By believing that I am amazing.  I must be for someone as crazy, cool, unusual, caring, and wonderful to have committed his life to me, to have given me his heart and his babies and all his belief...I feel sorrow that I struggled to understand that while he was with me.  But I know that he sees my heart open now.  It isn't enough.  But it is something.  Mostly because I know he always wanted the best for me.  He wanted to be able to take care of me.  When I hurt, he hurt.

So...I want to find out how to heal.  From far back.  So I can reach forward to whatever lies ahead with strength, compassion, imperfection, and hope.








Oh, I love you John.  So much it squeezes my throat and takes my breath away.  Our children are making this journey a bit easier for me, in ways.  (Not the house cleaning ways...that isn't going so hot, but I know you never cared about that, so...)  Help me do this.  Please. 

As our daughter says, I love you all the way to aliens.  And I always will.