I'm not sure I began the right way. I am tempted to go back, delete, start again. It's an urge I am resisting. I'm trying to learn to be in the moment so there are bound to be some things that make me color with embarrassment, shame, regret or even post decision indecision.
I'll leave it.
I have printed out a few more pages of John's face and I will continue to write on those. It has helped me.
The initial thought behind those pages was brought to my new home by a close friend as a slash and burn campaign for my beginning the healing process. She brought champagne, a propane lighter, the pages, and a glass pitcher. She was being furious for me when I was in the initial stages of shock after shock of John's sudden death, when all the shadows of his life he'd protected me from became full fleshed monsters coming out in high point attack mode to defeat me. Even now I find I am like a pendulum swinging back and forth between love and forgiveness and understanding to, 'That Shady Asshole, I'd like to drag him back from whatever Hell I hope he is in and Beat the Shit out of him and send him back!' These pages will be shredded in June and buried during low tide the weekend his ashes are scattered. Six months from December.
The pendulum is slowly finding center though. The emotions are beginning to blend and their intensity is shifting and changing into some kind of complex tapestry. I thought the further along I traveled from December 2012 the closer I'd be to clarity and feeling better, stronger, moving forward. Honestly, the last several weeks have been difficult.
I think I've handled all the fall out well. Since last November I've lived in four homes (My place John had moved in with me and we'd been living together for over 7 years together for about 10), our first new place together (I moved out on the 3rd because life had become intolerable), to my Ex-mother-in-law's for a month, to my home now. Also in November I changed job locations. Yes, same job, different location.
Which leads me to what is really under my skin freaking me out and terrifying me lately ... I am self employed and work has been slow ... on top of the major change of not having my 'life partner' (John hated that term and I used to tease him with it from time to time when he would bring up getting married). While I am trying to adjust to not having him in my life, emotionally, physically, financially my work-life has been unreliable. Isn't that just the way of it though?!!?
The same time all this happened my sons father moved away. He decided the politics where he was working were getting too clicky and made a transfer. He's several hours north now in another city on the border of another state.
So everything is different for the boys and I now, all at once. Everything but my sons schools. That is the only constant in our lives. I am grateful for that.
Our driving routes are different. Our local shopping is different. Different has helped, but it was still a major adjustment within major adjustments.
So I am on my own. Yes, I have my friends, my sister, and my (ex)mother-in-law, it's true. However, they can't be there every moment of every day. As well, I don't speak to my family. Well, more specifically Mother, Grandmother, Grandfather. The final cut off was last June for my Mother, the day after John's death for my Grandparents.
Just to put it out there... My half-sister (my Dad's Daughter) hates my family too. As do my best friend, my ex-husband, John (while he was alive and with the most reason next to my Sister and myself to loath her), as well, my Sister's closest family and friends. My ex-mother-in-law (who for purposes of ease I will now simply call my Mom) finds them distasteful and their behaviour shocking. I suppose hate/loath are strong words, but I'm not sure how else to express my instinct for survival and need to avoid at all costs the toxic people I was born to.
My Mother aka She Who Must Not Be Named. In the animal kingdome there are those that would eat their young. She is one of those. When I have little contact with her I can face the insanity with humor. When she stalks me I have anxiety.
Thankfully, and in a large part due to my relationship with John, my relationship with my family ended after years of me trying to maintain some sort of bridge to ongoing relationships with them. A person is supposed to be in contact with their family, right? Well, I finally understood it's okay to let some things go.
So he wasn't all bad. Through observing him and many of those qualities I might very well at times bitch about here, or mourne... I learned a lot. I grew up inside. I woke up.
He and I had a lot of things in common in how we faced our lives. He just did it on an epic scale.
If he were alive today there are very good odds we'd be back together and I'd be blogging about what a dick he can be and how disappointed I am and suspicious I am of his behavior. I'd still be trying to overcome his serious injury to my ability trust him, wishing he wasn't making the simplest things difficult. Wishing he'd just take hold of what we have and help me realize our amazing potential...
If he were alive today he'd be unable to be/do/have that life with me because of the horrible traps he'd built due to neglect, and being impulsive.
His death was due to those things.
So I am here working on what was and what's next and trying to appreciate what is now.
I am trying to figure out how much of me is left and whether or not I am any smarter.
I want to be. I want to hold on to the lessons I've learned. Move forward still me, not bitter or bitchy (unless I am being just being funny about it), smarter, but still me.
It's difficult trying to look forward, move forward and yet allow myself to mourne and give myself time to heal. The loneliness and doubt are sometimes suffocating.
I have my impulsive side, my devious side?... I just keep her reigned in tightly. I think it is a deep fear of being like my Mother that keeps her (aka Fury, God yes, my crazy has a name) in line. And being a Mom... I'd often understood if I didn't have my sons I would have responded with more Fury and less 'me'.
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