Saturday, February 22, 2014

Pride & Pain

Ever have one of those days where you are both extremely proud of yourself and excited and - in the same heartbeat - totally heartbroken? I definitely had one of those this week. It started with an email I got a few weeks ago from the local art league, with a note about a woman who was looking for art lessons for her son. I knew it was the universe talking. Since Drew died, I've been feeling more and more called to teach art, and this step was just small enough that I knew I could take it.

It still took me four days to muster the courage to call the lady. Teaching is WAY out of my comfort zone and totally intimidates me. As an artist, you have total control over your medium, the outcome of a project, and who sees it. But teaching involves… people. And people are a total wildcard to us introverts. I suppose I didn't realize just how uncomfortable that makes me until I was dialing the phone.

A week later, I'm sitting in the home of a lovely woman, teaching her eight year old grandson his first private art lesson. I realize pretty quickly that I have no idea what I'm doing. "How the hell am I going to fill up an hour?!?!" I still don't know how I did. We talked mostly. I asked him about his favorite cartoon and video game characters, what sort of things he already likes to draw, what sorts of things he might want to learn. I was flying by the seat of my pants, and to my surprise, even enjoying it. For a cautious, calculated person - this sure was new!

Sometimes I like to think that when he died, our souls infused with one another - leaving parts of him in me. He had this solid, confident air about him when working with people. I'm convinced this is one of his qualities that I somehow gained. The old me before he died would have been too nervous and panicked to even be able to enjoy being this far out of my comfort zone. But with this kid, I was solid and calm as ever. Without all the nerves rushing through me, I was able to think things through better. Instead of worrying about what I didn't know, I was thinking about how much I was learning from this experience… and that was pretty exciting.

I left feeling really proud of myself. I felt empowered… which is a big deal. So much of my power was taken away when he died. Not being able to function fully, forgetting everything all the time, gaining weight, always trying to anticipate emotional swings (with no luck). And of course not having my partner there by my side to help me feel strong. Any time I've done something on my own since he died - even the tiniest of things - the feeling of empowerment has been incredible.

Of course as always happens with any exciting moment now, the pendulum swung to the other side too. Drew was trained to be a flight instructor, and was planning to work as an instructor soon. As I drove home, tears came to my eyes when I imagined coming home to him… we would talk about how cool it was that we were both instructors now, him teaching his passion of flying, and me teaching my passion of art. It would have been beautiful to share that together. But, I also know that I probably never would have done any of this had my life not been so completely uprooted by his death. So even though it is always bittersweet - there is a strange comfort in knowing that he now brings every good thing into my life.

(Image Source)

10 comments:

  1. Hi Sarah-I can totally relate to the feeling of having some "parts of him" left in us. I feel that way too. I feel some of Michael's qualities of understanding, patience and acceptance have become part of me. In the midst of all this grief and loss, what a beautiful feeling. It's almost like a hug from his energy that was left here on earth.

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    1. Hi Jan… "a hug from his energy that was left here on earth" Wow - I LOVE that! It so is… thank you so much for sharing that with me =)

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  2. I, too, find myself longing to share the new, growth parts of myself with him, even as I realize that his death was the catelist for so much of the growth. It is all so mixed up, isn't it?

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    1. It so is Tracey… you think "This would be so much more amazing if he were here!" and in the same breath, we know their death was the catalyst for certain growth in our lives. It's such a strange paradox

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  3. I just want to say I think you are a hero for being a teacher and helping the children. Keep up the positivity and remember that new things, joys and empowerment continue to remain.

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  4. Your words really spoke to me. The part about parts of him being infused in you; I never considered that but it's a comforting thought. I realize I had to learn to be more outgoing and I was at a NFL game networking event for my work, and I was thinking how much he would have loved being there (we were allowed to bring dates), and then realizing the irony that if he had still been around, I would never have been the person who had to find the courage to mingle with others and reached the professional opportunities that led to me being at that event.

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    1. Thank you for sharing this and reading friend. I can so relate to what you shared, sometimes I feel like it is their way of standing behind us and giving us a little shove in the right direction. It definitely is a good feeling when we do something we didn't expect or think we could do on our own!

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  5. Yes. I have found myself doing things that only my husband would have done, sometimes even things I would have picked on him mercilessly for. I think, for me at least, it is my way of carrying our life together on, even in my life alone. Example: my husband had a shirt he loved and i always thought was drab and kinds of ugly, but now I see the beauty in it and love it. Meanwhile, my current partner carries the opinion that it is a drab shirt. I can remember thinking that, before, but now all I see is the subtle beauty of it. Green and brown tie dye isn't for everyone, but I wear it with pride now. I wish my husband was here to see that I now love the "ugly shirt" ironic, right?

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    1. Oh Kate - I can so relate to that. My fiancĂ© liked all kinds of music as do I, but one I could never get behind was heavy metal stuff like Slayer/Korn/Pantera. Our conversation would go like this… "how can you listen to death metal?" "Its not death metal, its regular metal." "But they're screaming at you…" "Still not death metal" *sigh* "how can you want to listen to people SCREAM at you??"

      And now… I happily listen to all the heavy metal shit he liked that used to make my cringe. I get it now. It gets emotion out, it feels raw and alive. I cannot even believe I like that stuff now - and imagine he is SO laughing on the other side sometimes. ;)

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