Sometimes I look at my blog and want to write a post but then with this season of my life I think that it seems I either write a string of downers or I pendulum to extremes with highs and lows. I look into my imaginary mirror and think, "Why write then? Who would feel encouraged by reading inconsistencies such as yours?"
That small voice answers, "Who would? Anyone who admits to being human and real would. Just tell the truth and it will make a difference."
So this is me being transparent, not only to sort through my own thoughts but also with hopes of helping others.
I have now been home from Texas for 3 weeks. Looking at that sentence right now feels like a shock as I have gone through my days without equating a real time line to anything until this very moment.
As I have said before, I really have been pretty fine. It is so good to be home. I missed the rain, the trees, cold weather, mountains and most of all my family and friends. But somewhere in the recesses of my mind I have had this gnawing thought chip away at me that I am too fine. I have edged out into doing some activities and social events and truly had a good time doing them. But still.....
Saturday morning I woke and felt like I didn't even want to get out of bed. The girls had their social events planned and I had a day of errands and cooking to accomplish on a deadline. There were things to do and though check lists normally drive me, I had no desire to do anything. Desire or not, things had to be done. So I methodically switched into auto-pilot and check marked off my day. By mid afternoon I felt like I had hit a wall and had to pull the car over to make the world stop spinning.
As I sat there absently watching cars go by, I questioned my fragile state and begged God for answers. I saw the pages of a calendar float by in my mind with different dates check marked and circled. I realized that even before I flew to Texas, my heart with already with my daddy and essentially I have lived this past year physically and mentally in 2 very different places. In one place I was mother, wife, teacher, administrator and organizer. In the other I was daughter and care giver. Both situations were as diverse as the climate and region I resided in.
I have spent the last few weeks with it being relatively easy to block off certain feelings because I am in such a different location. It feels like being with Daddy was a lifetime ago. When I have answered that I am fine to peoples' questions, I wasn't lying. I really was fine. So why is it hard now? It is hard because I need to remember that it hasn't been a long time like my mind wants to quarantine it into being.
I find that really; I do but I don't want to talk about it with most people.....my experience, my daddy, my feelings. I do but I don't want to know how they understand and relate because they lost their parents too. I do and don't want to share because their hurt can't possibly be like my hurt. I know that is not true but it is my first thought all the same.
I know all the truths; that Daddy is in heaven, that he is happy and healthy, that he has no pain and walks with no limp, that he has no confusion, that others comment to being jealous of where he is, that he is in the amazing presence of God and one day I will be there with him. I know all these things and believe it all emphatically. But I don't find it comforting for anyone to tell me those things. I find it only makes my own feels feel squashed and non-valid.
And yet, I have a friend who lost her dad just a few weeks before me and I look forward to talking with her about our dads. Even when I really am fine, her hugs are a welcome relief that I don't want to let go of because there is nothing attached to them but a kindred connection that comes from raw experience. There is safety and comfort in that.
I don't mean to sound that anyone else has less compassion or wrong compassion or fake compassion. It is just hard to have to talk about the same thing over and over again. And yet....if no one asked and expected me to simply move on then that would hurt too wouldn't it?
There is no easy way around it.
4 short weeks ago I was in Texas dealing with hospice's crisis care team moving in as I called family members and watched Daddy struggle through his last days. No matter what truths I know in my heart, mind and spirit; the truth is that I am raw and tired.
It is going to take time for me to balance out and feel real.
In time I will not have to remind myself to get through a day.
In time home will really feel like home with no tentacles spread out in different directions.