I have not been in the mood for composing even a poorly put-together New Year’s post. In fact, despite the horrid tone of 2009 I’ve not been in the mood for a New Year. Period.
There were so many wholly good aspects of 2009. Most of our family survived, those that did not brought us closer together and offered us so very much even in death; we had a roof over our heads; we filled our bellies with food regularly, we never went hungry; we reveled in comforts whether we always regarded them as such at the time or not; we were reminded of all we had. And yet, all of those things, for whatever reason seem colored only by the failure, the death, the loss.
As I recently told a friend, I feel like I’m standing inside a dark tunnel and though the entrance is right there I can’t step out. I can’t leave the darkness for the sunlight. My life is out there. It sparkles. But I am inside.
I want so badly to soak up all the things I know are good and positive. I want to enjoy my life. I want to absorb all of the really wonderful aspects that it has to offer. But I just can’t move. I am paralyzed in the dark. Watching. Wishing. Wanting.
I made New Year’s goals — modest but given my state of being, lofty. I feel almost obligated to write about them. And yet, I have no real desire to. I can see the path to achieving them. The footsteps are right in front of me, but they lead out of the tunnel. They lead somewhere I don’t know if I can go right now.
In the past few days I’ve forced myself a little closer to the edge, to the sunlight, to the beginning of the paths to those goals. In the past few days I’ve felt more apprehensive, weak and out-of-control than I ever remember feeling before. And maybe that’s the problem. I feel out-of-control. I feel weak. I feel unsure, apprehensive. I have never felt those things before.
I have felt depression. I have felt that nothing; that hopelessness. This is not it. This is a beast all its own. This is something I do not know, I do not understand. This is paralyzation (yes, I did just make that word up). This is wanting. Badly. This is wishing. Wholly. And I don’t even know where to begin. Or how.
Hog Farmer. Goose Wrangler. Sustenance Cultivator. Hobby Photographer. Women's Progress Advocator. Wife. Teacher. Mother. Freelance Writer. Unsophisticated Wine Connoisseur. Sister. Speaker. Friend. Butcher. Ruminator. Student. Reluctant Artist. Wannabe Quilter. Chocolate Addict. Gun Enthusiast. 
{ 1 comment }
Grief takes time. Be gentle with yourself. Mindful, but gentle. You can see the entrance…there is no rush as long as you still have it in sight.
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