It's 11:11 am here in the hot and humidity-ridden metropolis of St. Louis. This morning I started running at 7:30 to find that I was still too late... in St. Louis in the summer, if you don't drag your butt out of bed, throw on your tennis shoes, and hit the road by 6 am, you're pretty much screwed. Have fun running in a sauna. And so that's what I did. 3.6 miles in. Next time it'll be 4.
I could write a really long post explaining everything that's going on in my life right now and everything that's happened in the last couple of weeks, but it would really seem like overkill. There's simply too much. I'm not writing these days to work through my grief... I'm writing in retrospect as I leave it all behind. In a way, today's post is a eulogy in the funeral of what has been.
And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't hesitate to ask me. Let me just say that, whatever you think I might be dealing with, multiply it by 2 or 3. The other night I dreamed that the iceberg I was sleeping on melted away. So metaphorically make of that what you can... but I don't really feel like I'm drowning, nor do I really feel like I'm even swimming. I feel like the iceberg is gone and I'm just floating. At this point, I really don't know what's propping me up. I think it's mostly the grace of God. A week ago, I was raging mad at him... they say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So a woman doubly scorned? Well, mad barely scratches the surface... furious is more like it. But God in his infinite graciousness just kept cutting away... and believe it or not, I actually feel better. Something had to give. So it did. And I don't feel the stabbing pain I felt ten days ago. I just feel... sedated. For the moment. And maybe more pain is coming, I don't really know. But I can't really think about it right now. Maybe I'm finally learning how to deal with anxiety the right way. Wouldn't that be a nice benefit of all the heartache?
For the most part, I'm doing ok. I'm no longer throwing my phone across the room at the wall destroying the LED picture, nor am I crying for a greater portion of the day anymore. And when I come home at night, I only want one glass of wine rather than 2 or 3.
The other night Dr. Budds told me during one of the phone calls I periodically make to him to report the state of affairs that I needed to find some projects of my own to throw myself into and at that point, I wasn't ready to hear his wisdom. But that was five days ago. I've let more go since then and so I have some energy to put towards various projects of interest, but not a lot... enough to give me something to think about but not so much that I'm being drained daily by my own need to distract. I'm mostly re-evaluating and coming up with a new plan for the next year or two. But more or less, I'm shifting into cocoon mode. I want nothing more than to be able to make it through the days without major long-term scarring or a complete loss of hope.
My rosebush, the one I planted a month ago in memory of part of the pain I'm dealing with, has six buds on it getting ready to bloom. I suspect that they'll all open at the same time, when I really need to see something beautiful.
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