If I’ve learned anything at all since I started writing this blog it is just how human I truly am… and how much I hate that sometimes. I knew it was possible to become stuck in anger, to become bitter, to push life away but I never actually believed I’d go there. I looked at that potential even in the moment I understood that Dannica had died, and I told myself I’d never go there.
I used to be one who tried to make eye contact with people and smile for no reason, not only during the holidays, but especially during the holidays. I used to stand in the middle of a place and radiate light out in all directions, healing & well-being for all. I worked hard for a long time to get there, to love life, to release negativity in all its forms, to find my own happiness in life even when life kept being….well life…. a challenge. The truth is, I have fought depression and social anxiety most of my life; maybe all of it. Sometimes, I have won. Sometimes, I’ve lost miserably. Sometimes, like this time, I’ve just given up. Too tired to fight it. Too tired even to try.
I have become, once again, the ones I used to see and wonder about. The ones that looked down or away. The ones who’s hearts I wanted to reach with those free and carefree smiles of hope, love, acceptance and compassion.
In the beginning, fresh grief filled me with a fearlessness I’d never before known. Once I stopped screaming because my daughter had died, I kept on screaming at life, “BRING IT ON!! YOU WANT SOME OF THIS!? COME AND GET IT!” I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was angry and it was normal. It gave me strength. It gave me courage. I had nothing but faith in the resilience of the human spirit…. my human spirit. I thought of myself as a phoenix and all I could focus on was rising even as almost everyone around me said, “Go slowly, be gentle with yourself.”
I didn’t go slowly and I wasn’t gentle with myself even when I thought I did and I was. Instead, I went boldly into places, I can see now, I didn’t really belong and I made a fool of myself. I learned that I’m not a public speaker. I’m not cut out to be a teacher, though I really felt, somehow, I was. In fact, at 45 years old, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be anything other than perfectly human. I’ve given up on dreams. I’ve extinguished hopes. I am alone in my own little world as often as I can be and most of the time I like it that way. At least I know what to expect from my own judgment and my own pain. It’s comfortable even when it hurts.
Could this be acceptance?
I don’t want this blog to be filled with negativity. But I do want it to be filled with honesty and, when I can find it, truth. I’m going to keep writing, even when I feel horrible, because writing gets it out of me. I understand if that puts you off, if you’d rather avoid the negativity altogether. Life is hard enough without someone else’s negativity. For this reason, I don’t watch the news, I read my local paper only selectively, and I have even ended seemingly good friendships when I felt the person never had anything positive to say. So I *do* understand why I’ve lost contact with many people I thought were friends since my daughter’s death. I realize that I am depressed. With that comes negativity. I do my best not to dwell there when I am with others. But I’m only as strong as I am and a lot of the time I’m exhausted, I’m grumpy, God help you if you cut me off in traffic or say something stupid to my face. And I *hate* feeling this way!!!
For now, the phoenix is down. No sign of rising. None. Unless you cut me off or say something stupid. Please, know I am genuinely sorry. I am.