The Mess

I look forward to the day when I'll be completely on top of my game again. I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing the mark just a bit in all things I undertake. I guess grief, even at almost 5 months in, really rocks a person. Sometimes I wonder if I'm coming up short. I think about the effortless ways in which I operated before Rick's death and I want that again. 

There are moments when I don't have the energy to care about things and I hate that. My laundry might pile up. My bed might remain unmade. There are mornings when I lie in bed a little too long, perusing Facebook and pretending that everything is hunky dory. There are times I watch reality TV shows when I should really be doing 865 more productive things. But I don't. I can't find it in me to move. To try. To care.

Luckily, those moments are short-lived. Luckily, I reframe those moments into "self-care," telling myself that zoning out, pushing things off, and giving in to a "whatever" attitude is okay sometimes. 

There are also moments when I miss my old life so much it hurts. There are moments when I have to remind myself: "This person needs you right now," "this part of your day is more important than your grief, " or "this is not about you." It's so easy for me to fall back into feeling like this is all so new so I shouldn't be expected to operate at my baseline. But that's just a form of self-pity I think.

There are things I wish I could do better. Like do fun things with my nieces. Plan a bridal shower and bachelorette party for my best friend. Get back to making weekly eating disorder recovery videos. Like...I can do all those things, but I'm angry because I know I could do them better if I was where I was in life before Rick died. No one is getting the BEST of me. And it bothers me. I want to do more. Be more. But I can't. It just doesn't work. It's like something in me is broken and I'm repairing it, but it's not yet up to par. 

For the most part though, I think I'm doing pretty well. I feel like I'm alive instead of just existing. I feel that I can enjoy what's around me. Sometimes I feel strange, sometimes I feel lonely, and sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed... but for the most part, I feel like I'm adjusting. I feel like I'm headed in the right direction at least.

There are times when I try to examine my life. I try to mentally take a step back so I can view myself through the eyes of others. I worry that I'm not the person I used to be.

And then I realize that I'm not. I'm not the person I used to be. And in some respects, I'll never be that person again.

But somewhere in that mess is some pretty cool stuff. It's tangled, mangled, frayed, fried, jumbled, ripped, shredded, and torn, but it's in there somewhere. It hasn't gone away. And I desperately want to be a better daughter again, a better friend, a better sister, a better social worker. I want to be a leader. I want to be on point. I want to be 100% present, sailing for the beautiful horizon with my grief left behind on the dock.

I'm not there yet.

I'm not at my baseline. I'm not at my best. But I am doing my best.

I'm thankful for everyone who's loving me in the moment, patient and kind.