I am filling in for Jackie today because her computer is in the shop...but she will be back next week!
Today is my birthday. I am 42 years old, three years older than Phil was when he died six years ago (crazy to think he would be 46 right now!). My first birthday without him I remember wishing time could just stand still. I didn't want to age without him;I didn't want to celebrate being alive with birthday songs and presents; and I didn't want to continue on a forward path that moved away from the life I loved with Phil. Overall, December 29, 2005 was not my best birthday.
Truthfully, finding a way to appreciate the opportunity to live another year took some time. I moved from being down right pissed off about my repeating birthdays to being a bit ambivalent about the passing of time to finally accepting the fact that until my number is called my job is to seize the day.
Seizing the day is a broad concept that, for me, includes both taking as many opportunities for adventures as possible, and also taking time to cuddle a baby without looking at the clock. When I am living my best life I say what I mean, and I follow those words with actions. Making the most of the time I am given is a goal that is never far from my mind, and is firmly planted in my heart, because I know that one person can make a difference. Phil taught me that. But I didn't know how huge his influence on me was, until it was too late to tell him. I try to remember that the words I use may become an enduring memory for someone I care about, and I try very hard to speak words of both praise and gratitude. I may have only one chance to utter them. Time is something I no longer take for granted.
In fact, time is now something I relish in ways large and small...I love giggling with my kids, and running with good friends. I've discovered that Alaska has rain forests, and that Texas is actually huge. I've both cried, and laughed uproariously, with widowed people from all walks of life. I've witnessed both births and deaths and found them both to be an amazing honor. Over the past six years I walked on beaches on the opposite side of the earth from my home, hiked in majestic mountains, and looked over my shoulder for bears while trekking through the above mentioned rain forests. I spent New Year's Eve in New York City, and have driven alone on country roads from Ohio to Indiana. I've walked with friends through cancer, divorce, the loss of a home, and the pain of losing a baby. I have not been just an observer of life, I have rolled my sleeves up and jumped in with two feet time and time again. Because life is short. You and I know that better than most. So now I choose not to waste a single day that I could be making a difference.
President Abraham Lincoln suffered through the deaths of three of his four children, and was well known to be prone to depression. Having come through one particularly dark period, a good friend told Mr. Lincoln that he had been afraid his despair would swallow him whole. President Lincoln responded:
"I have an irrepressible desire to live until I can be assured that the world is a little better for my having lived in it."
Cheers to another year full of opportunities to improve the world, one small bit at a time.
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We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Showing posts with label Climbing back up.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Climbing back up.. Show all posts
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Sinking-Climbing

I'm in a deep funk, and it feels like I am sinking.
It seems as though it was only a couple of months ago that I emerged from my winter hibernation. I thought I was through with all that for awhile, and I expected a longer period of sunny days.
Instead, clouds follow me wherever I go. I try to make out the sun, and from the looks of others, the sun is there for them. Why do I not see it? Why is it that I only feel the sky's dark shadow over me?
I feel like I am doing the right amount of things to help propel myself forward. I'm doing my best to keep the tide going in my favor, yet it is always that undertow that wins out. Is this depression? Is this grief?
I have struggled with depression for many years, and have turned to therapy and medication to assist me with coping. I have also added new elements into my life, such as my love of gardening, or my interest in Buddhism. I have tried prayer, and have struggled to reclaim that inner peace that my soul once had. It seems that life does indeed give you more than you can handle, or perhaps more than your share to carry. I suppose those words are not true, as I would have already given up if that were the case.
I sit here and think about these words, and I know it's all par for the course. This is what I must work through. Am I depressed? Sure, I have plenty to be depressed about. Is everything dark and gloomy? No. I'm in a funk, and it will pass. Sometimes these heavy hearted days pass quickly, and other times last for weeks. I just have to be patient. It's not like there is anybody knocking at my door wondering why I haven't come out to play. And, it's not like I have to measure up to others' perception of where I should be at this point.
This is just where I am right now. Today. The saving grace is that it is quite familiar, and I have come to expect days like these. Sometimes it's just the disappointing realization that I have been pulled back under. It would be nice to think that my grief was like climbing up a ladder, getting closer and closer to the top with each reach of that next rung. Yet we all know the reality, and it certainly is not as easy as that.
We slip, we fall, and then we begin reaching back up.
Reach with me.
Labels:
Climbing back up.,
Dan Cano,
depression,
gardening,
Sinking
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