Monday, November 8, 2010

Mantra



I get up each morning, turn off the alarm, then go downstairs to get my boys up for school. I shower, get dressed for work, make sure the pets are taken care of, then off we go. My days are getting busier now that I am working once again. I go about my day, eager to learn all the new things about my job, getting to know new people, and putting on a smile whenever I pass someone in the halls. As the morning continues, I feel myself sink, and I find myself taking in deep breaths of air.

Hang in there. You can do it. Just one day at a time.

I move forward, remind myself that I am a survivor, and keep going. After awhile I can get distracted from my reality, and I am able to to laugh with my peers. As the work day comes to an end, I am able to think about all that I accomplished, and walk out of the office feeling good about how I spent my time. I walk through the near empty office, smile and say goodnight to all that pass my way, and head out to my car.

It's there that it happens. Tears.

I take in a few deep breaths of air.

Hang in there. You can do it. Just one day at a time.

I am sinking, back to feeling numb, and wonder what all the effort is for. Something needs to change. I don't like this emptiness that is taking space once again. When does it stop? Does it stop?

It's time to ask for help. It's time to seek out companionship. I realize that I have done it again. I have isolated myself. Easy to do. He is not here.

I remind myself to take a few deep breaths of air.

Hang in there. You can do it. Just one day at a time.

7 comments:

  1. Dan, I also for a while cried as soon as I got to the car. Working was good, but going home was the hardest, even with my two girls. I think this is what most often gets us- home. My does not feel the same and I know it never will, especially for our children. Yes, I could find another partner to make it feel less empty and alone, but I am not ready to to that with my children yet. It is different for them than it is for me. Yet, I am lonely and not quite ready for another partner to help make my house a home for me- a safe haven for me- as Dr. Phil would say a soft place to fall. We are that soft place for our children!

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  2. I have done the ame so many times. One day I tried listenig to a novel on CD and found I really had to pay attention and did not focus so much on the pain and lonliness. I have a hard time as I pull in the drive and hope against hope that he will be ther in the house just one minute when I go in--I can't accept that he isn't. We are a mess aren't we? HUGS!

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  3. that happens to me too. I walk out the school gate (I'm a teacher) and BAM ... the tears come.

    I cut myself off from the world. I don't answer the phone unless I know who it is. I beg off social gatherings. My world has shrunk.

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  4. i had a long commute to work (nearly an hour)... i too cried in the car everyday... not as often in the morning but most definitely on the way home. i think that being in the car is the one place where your thoughts are totally isolated from everything else going on in the world. crying on the ride home was also a relief from holding it together all day to get through work.

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  5. my car is for screaming, on the way back from the farm, on the way back from the grocery store, on the way back from....
    It's the place where I know I won't freak out the dog or the neighbors, and anyone driving past and happening to look could maybe just think I am singing really loud. Maybe.

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  6. I agree with Megan .... I screamed and cried a lot in the car. I also think that sometimes, especially in the earlier days, even one day at a time is too big of a chunk to bite of. I had to go from one minute at a time, and then gradually lengthen it. But very, very gradually.
    And it will get longer. I promise.

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  7. Were you watching me?? That is exactly how I have been living one day at at time for what seems a long time now. While my husband was very sick that was his mantra, and now it's mine, lots of deep breaths and one day at time. If the walls could talk - the walls of my car and my home - the safe zones where I let it all out, they'd have a glimpse of the pain and sorrow we are really going thru.

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