The Journey Is The Story

 

Photo on 2016-05-31 at 10.30 AM #2

AATAMAA     the authentic self – something to remember when I practice my yoga.

Reading others comments and blogs I am reminded of how important our journey is.
A writer recently wrote of the importance of us commenting on our own lives when reading of others. I hope I remembered that correctly. It may be a that notion that published works are more important then those that are self published. Not so.
At least in my opinion.
I personally have found more connection to common folk like us who blog of our situation or lives out of desperation, sadness and need.  When B got ill I took books out from the library daily to try and found some common ground where I would feel less alone. I did not find any. Everything must have been edited out by professionals I don’t know. It was the blogs where I found common ground. Those poems, those desperate rants that come only in the middle of the night when the world for the most part is sleeping. But we are not are we? That Midnight Madness I call it.

Photo on 2016-05-31 at 8.45 AM

When arms come out of the ground and try and hold on to you
those headlights that keep coming in your direction but your glued to the black thick road
those times when everyone is speaking yet all you can hear is water rumblings
remember all those long days in the i.c.u
when holding his hand feels like the best thing ever because he is able to sleep
those days that turn into weeks and months and you feel at home
sleeping on a chair after eating a egg sandwich
that has been brought to you by the night nurse
for she understands the love
she understands that nothing will tear you from his side

These are the stories written from tears that have permanently disfigured our faces
how can one write about such things  if they have to be edited out
its the blog people that speak from their hearts
they have nothing to lose and everything to gain for they can for five minutes
put it all on the screen and hit publish
its here that we can somehow find a common ground

The Journey is Our Story

Photo on 2016-05-31 at 8.44 AM

With heavy feet we try everyday to create a new life
chalkboards with daily notes
reminders so we don’t drift
lists not of desperate importance
just important enough to focus
so at the end of the day we can
hopefully tick one or two items off the list

Post- loss feels like having to learn how to walk and speak and eat all over again
there are day when saying the word Breathe over and over makes perfect sense
your mind and body has to have time to heal all the wounds that can’t be seen.

How Do You Pack Up a Life

Packing up a studio is sort of like creating a time capsule. To place things in boxes. To show importance and respect. You have to be trusted to do this and also place trust in others to do the same for you. My job is a difficult one because I place such great importance on history, the past. If we don’t cherish that past how will we ever respect the future. This summer I am packing and I will be emotional at times but that is what makes my job a great one. For I can be trusted to respect the past.

In order to get to the place of packing I had to first pack up from the city to the country for the summer.  At First I did not want to bring my paints. Well you can imagine what I would do, yes you are right I would paint and enjoy myself. I was not going to. Really I wasn’t.  No honestly. Why don’t you believe me?  ….   ..  /////

Ok you may have been more insightful then I. At the end, after packing all of my underwear, socks, stretchy pants, tea shirts, skirts [?] drawer of toiletries  I thought…hummm what harm will one container of essential paints do? Why not pack two maybe three canvases after all I can’t pack ALL THE TIME.

The first paragraph here is in a sort a retaliation of someone telling me that it has become apparent that I don’t keep my intension. Meaning that I promise to everyone but in reality I can’t do for everyone. So why is this a bad thing? Why do people continually try and forge you into this thing  that is impersonating a sane person.

I don’t feel any strength in anything,, still.  I correct myself I feel strong when I create.

I have to mention that this month I have seen former friends from my husbands time in care. I felt different at first. It’s always strange when you don’t have your deceased one with you. After a bit of strange time you settle in to what you know and feels right. That feeling when you can be open and its not corrected or judged. When your not pushed into pretending that you have moved on and you have taken your life in hand and you have started to make future plans and you now clean your house and you don’t drink that much wine anymore and you don’t need those sleeping pills anymore and you don’t think of him when you fall asleep at night holding his ring on his silver chain you wear ever day and you have started walking and doing yoga and you are no longer eating an entire box of six apple turnovers while sitting in the parking lot. Ya,,, hell your ok.

Sure you are.

When I visited another friend whom still is caregiving and at a very full time. I felt so comfortable. I could not leave. To remember the patients that is required  just to wait for their replies is meditative. I remember just having to focus on my husband. That was all I did for three years. I focused on his eyes to tell me if he was having a headache. I focused on his hands if he was feeling cramped or sore. I don’t think I have ever felt so needed and loved. I know that it can never be recreated nor would I want anyone to have to go through what he went through. But oh do I miss B.

So You may read many posts this summer while I go through the ups and many down days of packing up a persons life.

Please comment if you have questions. I welcome communication especially if you find yourself in the same situation.