Teaching the Process

8 months ago today, Rick left this world. As I said to a friend yesterday, most of the time it feels like it's been 8 years. Other times it feels like it's been 8 days. I try not to go back to that day in mind if I can help it. I try to keep the momentum going. I don't want to live in a revolving door of work and home and memories. I am living for everything the world has to offer, trying to maintain my resolve to be unafraid.

This blog has held so many emotions, triumphs, events, and ponderings. There are times I peruse the long list of post titles and am just amazed by the sheer volume of writing here. Daily posts add up to quite a lot over the course of time. 228 posts so far...

From meltdowns ...to relief ...to reconciliation ...to my morning process ...to meaningful misery ...to acceptance ...to what's best ...to fearlessness ...to going with the flow, I have given my all to the process and have also given in to the process. Life circumstances have educated me more than anything else I've been taught in this life. I have learned more these past 8 months than in the entire 30 years of my life.

One of the ways I know I have learned a lot is that so many people are considering me a teacher. A teacher of this whole grieving thing... this whole living thing... this whole positivity thing...

I think in a lot of ways, people who looked to me as a role model of positivity and light always wondered, "Well yeah, but what if she's faced with something really bad? What then?" And then the terrible happened. The most terrible. The worst. And I'm still here, being open and real, able to dig for the silver linings and beauty that exist in this place we call our world. So people are putting stock into it. It's like they're saying, "We always wanted to believe what she said... but now we know she's not all talk."

My words are just pieces - fragments - of what I want to say, and do, and live. They're here on this screen, because I'm here - figuring it all out as I go, just like the rest of you.