Yesterday morning I got up particularly early. I had slept through the night, only to be woken up by this group of little birds outside my bedroom window.
I can’t blame ’em. I think they were waking me up for something big.
I made myself oatmeal with creme fraiche I had just made and some local honey. It was delicious and simple.
I woke up heavy with anger. Not at the birds. The birds were the only part of my morning that made sense to me. The creme fraiche I had made was perfect. Thick and tangy, and well, fresh.
All signs of the morning were leaning to a good day, and all of a sudden, everything collapsed. I started weeping hysterically. I don’t always enjoy talking about the inevitable breakdowns, but I think I need to talk about it.
Living in a different space takes time. Although Mississippi is my home, there has been such a shift in my heart.
If I’m honest with what I want to say, I don’t have enough middle fingers for things sometimes. When I start to feel sad for my loneliness, I point those middle fingers at a life I once had. I get so angry that I lost everything that I wanted.
Now I know better than that.
Life does move on. And the stages of grief are so f***ing blurry to me at this point. People will say, “Ah, well you’re on to anger now..” Well, certainly. Only I’m angry a lot in different stages.
Grief has no formula. Sure, there are some that will tell you (and me) what to expect next. But I have no clue. We are all so different in how we heal and move on. Some of us take longer. Some of us move to different places and are forced to reconcile two pasts into one. How does one do this?
I would be worried if I wasn’t having a hard time. I see people move through these things so fast sometimes, and I get jealous. Damn, I wish I could hook up with someone that fast! Or start to see people as an old friend, instead of the ‘ex’.
There is so much I want to bury.
Like my wedding ring that I buried in the roots of those tomato plants we grew. Because that’s where our love was good. That’s where it meant the most to me…and there those roots will grow strong again, with someone else getting to benefit from our careless gardening.
Good days and bad days, as always.
No, I don’t want your silver linings, but I do want to be useful.
I do know things will get better with time. I can see past my pain.
But to feel it, is a completely different story. I didn’t think it was possible to explore these depths of my heart. To see how resilient my heart has been and continues to be.
I’ll fight for it to find goodness again. To find some peace again…and I will hold it deep down with those still waters. I know what I want, and I know it’s going to take some time.
And I will cook it slow. Like them oats soaking up water and salt and spice.
They will absorb into something entirely different from its dry state.
It will nourish and expand.
A simple, good thing,
sometimes makes all the difference.