Music has helped me immensely as well. I have clung to it for months, letting it fill me up. Many of my earlier blog posts talk about music. In fact, what's so strange is that one of the songs - 3 Things by Jason Mraz - listed in the card above is the very song I called my theme song back in July when I was only 2 months into grief. I wrote about it here and made a video slideshow (link is to the old post) of me through photos from my first 2 months of grief. That song was very special to me.
I just watched that old video again, remembering the girl who wore black... then kept her nails painted black... who went for countless runs outside to clear her head... who cried herself to sleep every night... who went to work every day and did her job without fail and with a smile... who pushed on tirelessly. I watched that video just now and remembered that girl so much my heart ached and even though my attitude was good back then, I'm so glad I've progressed further. I'm so glad I've made it this far without once losing my sense of self.
Tomorrow it is 9 months exactly since Rick took his own life. The 18th of every month is always a bit of a "thing" until I hit the 1 year mark. I am kind of counting months as I go, involuntarily marking how far out I am in this whole fabulous first year of grief. Oh how it feels like 9 years sometimes instead of 9 months...
I want to thank the anonymous stranger who sent me such an unexpected Valentine package. It was many things, but most of all, it was kind. Kindness is big in my book. I don't know what to say in response to such a kind gesture, so I will simply say "thank you" and figuratively nod my head in respect that it takes one to know one (widow/widower, that is).
And tonight, I need to say something else that's been on my mind. Grief alters us. And it's supposed to. All life experiences change us. Circumstances mold us. But grief aside, profound nightly blogging aside, positive attitude aside, I'm only human, everyone. I'm not extra-special and I'm definitely not perfect. I'm human. I feel crazy emotions. And I let myself feel them. I give in to things that make me feel good, because I want to feel good. I do stupid things. I make mistakes. I get carried away. I get caught up in life and the things it has to offer me. I have clouded judgment sometimes. I take risks. I get lonely. I want things. I say yes. I push back. I ask questions. I dare to wonder. I mess up. I act on instinct. I look for escape. I figure things out as I go. I get in trouble. I fall. I get back up. I fall again. I get back up.
I am no different than the rest of the world. I'm no better. I'm not above screwing up. I'm not above being selfish. I'm only human.
And I'd rather be a human with a sense of joy, fun, wonder, and boldness than a robot with a life that goes according to script.
I just watched that old video again, remembering the girl who wore black... then kept her nails painted black... who went for countless runs outside to clear her head... who cried herself to sleep every night... who went to work every day and did her job without fail and with a smile... who pushed on tirelessly. I watched that video just now and remembered that girl so much my heart ached and even though my attitude was good back then, I'm so glad I've progressed further. I'm so glad I've made it this far without once losing my sense of self.
Tomorrow it is 9 months exactly since Rick took his own life. The 18th of every month is always a bit of a "thing" until I hit the 1 year mark. I am kind of counting months as I go, involuntarily marking how far out I am in this whole fabulous first year of grief. Oh how it feels like 9 years sometimes instead of 9 months...
I want to thank the anonymous stranger who sent me such an unexpected Valentine package. It was many things, but most of all, it was kind. Kindness is big in my book. I don't know what to say in response to such a kind gesture, so I will simply say "thank you" and figuratively nod my head in respect that it takes one to know one (widow/widower, that is).
And tonight, I need to say something else that's been on my mind. Grief alters us. And it's supposed to. All life experiences change us. Circumstances mold us. But grief aside, profound nightly blogging aside, positive attitude aside, I'm only human, everyone. I'm not extra-special and I'm definitely not perfect. I'm human. I feel crazy emotions. And I let myself feel them. I give in to things that make me feel good, because I want to feel good. I do stupid things. I make mistakes. I get carried away. I get caught up in life and the things it has to offer me. I have clouded judgment sometimes. I take risks. I get lonely. I want things. I say yes. I push back. I ask questions. I dare to wonder. I mess up. I act on instinct. I look for escape. I figure things out as I go. I get in trouble. I fall. I get back up. I fall again. I get back up.
I am no different than the rest of the world. I'm no better. I'm not above screwing up. I'm not above being selfish. I'm only human.
And I'd rather be a human with a sense of joy, fun, wonder, and boldness than a robot with a life that goes according to script.
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