It is my privileged to write to you each week and I hope my blog inspires you to question what is stirring in your heart. I encourage you to lean into your grief. And, to feel it to it's depth. This isn't easy, but it is the only way through this mess.
I believe that we are lead back towards life and living when we allow ourselves to be still, and sit in the "nothingness" where grief lives. Visiting this empty place is difficult, but it is necessary. This quiet place holds the blueprints of our new, changed life.
I know you are scared to go to the edge of this place; admittedly, I am too. But, we have to take a leap of faith. With time, I am gathering momentum, and I am going to leap and build my wings on the way down.
It has been over two years since Mike died and I realize that what I fear most about the future is not the risks and uncertainty. What I am afraid of is letting the opportunities for change pass me by. I am afraid that I will settle into an ordinary life when I want an extraordinary life.
I am worried that I will play small, when my potential is big. As I write to you each week I am challenging us both not to shrink. I am keeping us accountable. I do not want either of us to fall back into an easy comfortableness when we can leap forward, towards a bold life. I want you to manifest the best in yourself. Go on, begin to recreate a beautiful life for yourself.
From the Ledge with Wings in Hand,
Wanderlust take 2.
I need to see new things.
And, also, I need to see the same things - somewhere else.
I need to stand on different street corners.
And, walk roads that lead to new
people and places.
I need to breathe the air - somewhere else.
I feel like I am holding my breath,
Living here in the outskirts of my old life.
I wrote this in August of 2018 and seven months later I continue to feel restless. I still want to make changes in my life, and I remain at a standstill partly out of necessity and mostly because I am less sure of myself since Mike died. But, this is about to change...
For the better part of the last two years and a few months, I have simply existed in suburbia. I am not living. I continue to breathe in the proximity of my old life, but it is suffocating me. I go through the motions day to day, but I do not feel connected with the life I'm living. And, this is a cruddy and unfulfilling way to be.
As much as I try, I am not overly content with my life without Mike. I am unsettled and underwhelmed. And, I know that no one but me can change this. So, I have decided that I need to follow my intuition. I need to action something. And, the exciting news is that I have.
My life is under reconstruction and it has been this way since the moment he died. When I buried Mike, I said farewell to the life I knew and loved. This isn't me being all dramatic - this is simply the truth. When his heart stopped, a part of me died. And, now for the last two years and some months, I have been working to recreate myself. When your spouse dies part of your identity dies with them and you must work to discover who you are without them. You must redefine who you are. You must reestablish yourself and your place in the world. Without Mike, I am a work in progress. I am for lack of a better term under reconstruction.
And, I am tired. I am beyond tired actually. In fact, I am exhausted. The work of recreating myself and reentering life is labour intensive. All the decisions and tedious details are overwhelming. Sometimes I feel nauseated just thinking about rebuilding my life. I have been shifting through the wreckage of our shared life for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of days and I am mentally drained. I have grown bored of the mundane thoughts that run through my head. I have some ideas about what to do, but nothing feels exactly right. I am sort of stuck and I am not actioning any of my plans with any enthusiasm.
I have begun the mental work of devising a plan, but I have not executed anything in earnest yet. I am stalling. Partly out of necessity; and, more so, because I am having a tantrum of sorts. I do not want to recreate a life because the one I shared with him was everything I wanted. I liked our life. And, I am not happy about being forced to live without the man I love. I am not excited about a future without Mike.
I have been forced to make due without him; and, because of this, I have yet to feel genuinely enthusiastic about anything in my life. This is a cruddy way to live. And, in truth, I am not even sure this is living. It is really just existing which is a complete waste of life - and this bothers me a lot. I do not want to merely endure life because he died, but I am afraid that is what I am doing. I want to live passionately again, but everything feels monotonous and tiresome without him. My life is hollow and lacklustre compared the life I share with him. So, what the hell can I do about this?
I try to feel less apathetic about my future. I continually seek a way out of this commonplace existence. But, again and again, I crave my old life. I miss the excitement of the life we shared, and at the same time I yearn for the ordinary moments we experienced together. I feel very detached from the run of the mill life in front of me. After two years and a handful of months, I have still not been able to figure out how to bond with a future that does not include him.