This was a melancholy week. I am still feeling a tide of inertia sweep over me daily. I wake up in good spirits, but as the hours tick by I feel less inclined to move forward into the projects of the day and more like just zoning out, numbing my brain. The computer and the many, many amazing blogs out there in the internet twilight zone lull me into a strange sleeping wakefulness. I am drawn to the blogs and photostreams of some very creative and crafty people and can spend hours and hours gazing at them, being inspired in a way, but can't seem to light the fire in my own hands and eyes to create. I feel asleep at the wheel.
I don't want to cook. I don't want to clean. I don't want to read or knit or sew or paint. I just gaze, and simmer, and stare out the window.
It was difficult to even get up the energy for Thanksgiving at my loving cousin's house. Once there, surrounded by family, I was good. But that morning, that afternoon...it was an effort.
I am trying to be patient with myself. I am giving myself space. I am stunned at the time it is taking to gather myself together and get back to normal. And I wish that the time I spent in my quiet numbness would feel like a valuable expenditure of time. Unfortunately, the perfectionist in me, the overachiever in me feels a loss. At the end of the day I look at the clock, shake my head to clear it and take stock of the time I have wasted, with nothing accomplished, nothing to show for the passage of all those minutes. An emptiness is what is embracing me these days.
I had such anticipation for this period following the celebration of his life, thinking that I would feel lighter with the weight of that event off my shoulders. But I now realize that it will still take time, a march onward of the days and hours, until I begin to notice the sun peeking through the clouds, and a lightness returning to my step.
2 comments:
Once again Susie, beautiful post! I have no great suggestions or advice. I have not been in your shoes. And the reality is that everyone is different so even when one person has experienced something similar, it can often be so different (IMO anyhow). But here are a few thoughts, from someone who thinks you do a pretty awesome job at focusing on the things that really matter in life.
Leigh
In my recent past, during some difficult times....times of loss.... times where I had no control and felt death in a way, I never imagined possible....I too, went to that place of nothingness for awhile. Perhaps time would have been better spent on a therapists couch, I dont know. BUT during that time, in spite of life continuing and my inability to catch up.....something did happen. I grew. I found pieces of me I didnt know existed. It was a difficult, yet therapeutic and positive time of growth, even tho I didnt see it that way at the time. I do believe (true romantic I am :)) that things happen for a reason, and timing is that way as well. Yeah, I know corny and not always applicable. But I guess in looking at things from that angle, it's encouraged me to look at some hard questions and potentially difficult responses. Some potentially wonderful ones too.
Your dad's celebration of life, was that... and he will continue to live on thru all those who love him, and remember him... In your posts I can see the love you all had.... even tho there may have been missed opportunities. And the thing here is that while you feel you're "accomplishing nothing".. you're actually accomplishing a ton, in that you're a beautiful writer. And writing also helps save on those therapy co-pays :)!! But more importantly, you say things that some folks dont like to talk about, or feel comfortable with. You make them real. And I suspect your dad would be very proud!
Hey Susie - although I haven't lost a parent yet, I did go through a dark period following a loss several years ago. Keep your nose above the water with your reflections, beautiful surroundings, and loving boys - time will pass and one day you'll realize you feel like yourself. If you're like me (and maybe most people), there will be a period of time where "yourself" days are sprinkled in with the melancholy, but for me it was a regular progression once I'd processed my grief.
Give yourself a break - you'd say that to a friend, right? I often have to remind myself to treat me the way I'd treat a best friend.
(and yes, you can come use my Gocco anytime!)
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