Taking Chances on Life

I've had a particularly hard couple of weeks lately. Not only has there been Christmas and the 18 month mark since he died, but throw in a trip to Dallas where we lived together, his younger brother graduating from college, my idiotic attempt to start a pretty strict new diet and workout regimen (beginning a week before Thanksgiving, really Sarah??) and the still impending nerviness of the gallery I work at closing in just 2 weeks... and it's no wonder I've had a total and complete meltdown. 

I went out with a girlfriend last night just to get out of my head for a little while. We ended up at a country concert. Drew and I used to go to tons of concerts together. While they have become easier for me to go to this year, my emotions were high last night, which left me really nervous.

I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about... there are just those times in this whole experiencing death thing where you feel really frail and worried as to whether you can handle social situations. I thought going out to a bar and having some drinks might not be the best idea given how emotional I was feeling (crying almost all day for several days pretty much describes it). But, then again, it also couldn't be the worst either. The way I figured, I had sure as hell sat in my own head for long enough and that didn't seem to be helping a damn thing, so I might as well try having a life for a night.

To my surprise, we ended up having a blast... dancing and singing and laughing for hours followed by a bit of crying and heartfelt conversation over hamburgers and fries at 2am. I didn't get home until after 3am. I honestly can't remember the last time I did that. And even though I'd rather have been curled up in bed with the love of my life… I got to spend some really special time and made a great new memory with one of my oldest friends.  

I *may* be a little hungover this morning, but you know what? It was worth it. It was worth it to dance the night away and not focus on the pain for just a few hours. It was worth it just to freakin LIVE a little. I realized last night that sometimes I'm not as fragile as I fear I am… and that within me is still a desire to seize the moments of life and seek adventures. Not only did I have fun at that concert, I lived and breathed and screamed and danced and laughed and cried and hugged and sang my heart out like it was my last night on earth. I was wide open to life and it felt great. 

At times, when the pain is so incredibly deep, I feel like it can be so easy to forget that today is a day to be lived… should I choose to do so. Shaking things up last night and doing something spontaneous reminded me that sometimes I do need to make that choice. It also reminded me of the girl he fell in love with… the one who appreciated and lived deeply, who could find something to be grateful for even in the worst of situations. It was nice to see that girl again… the girl who believes that no matter how difficult a day may start out, there is always - each day - the potential for something really meaningful (and maybe even incredible) to happen. 

Joy

Source

I am starting to find joy with the small things again. I can actually (finally) sit back, laugh my guts out, have an amazing time, without feeling like I’m pulling my own teeth and have “he’s dead” constantly repeat in my head.

For years everything has been.. dull and painful. Everything has been a struggle. A struggle to drag myself out to do things that are supposed to be fun, when all I want to do is climb into bed. Very few things have brought me joy. There was very few times I could forget about the past and be present in the now.

I am now finding joy in concerts, dancing the night away with my friends, going to the movies, and I am thoroughly enjoying trying new restaurants and new foods.

It’s interesting how grief can sneak in and attempt to steal my joy. I can be at a concert and think wow, Seth would love this! Then comes the he’s still dead, remember?

I've learned that when I’m enjoying myself and the death sneaks into my mind.. to sit with it. To let the music fill my ears, the death consume my brain, but also just accept that my husband isn't here to enjoy it.

I have gotten to where I refuse to let the he’s dead thoughts destroy my joy. Yes when it pops into my head, it kills me piece by piece.  But I have learned to tell myself I’ll deal with this pain later. Right now I’m at a concert and enjoying myself. 

My husband’s death will just have to.. wait.

His death will have to wait until I am done enjoying myself. It will have to wait until I climb into bed or a hot bubble bath.

My husband died because he found no joy in this life anymore.

I refuse to let his death steal my joy. I still have a whole lot of living to do and I can’t live in the he’s dead world anymore.

Joy is all I will let in my life now., because my husband had no joy, I will have joy for both of us.

Uncommon Therapy

I've done common therapy ... 

The psychologist I saw for over a year was lovely to talk to, had some useful ideas and she confirmed my own suspicion that my mental health is worth bottling ..... but ultimately, this sadness will not lift easily and all the mindfulness and affirmations in the world won't fix it.

But thankfully, I've also stumbled into a form of uncommon* therapy....

...just before he died, Greg gave me my 40th birthday present..... a second hand DSLR Canon camera with three lenses.

....and just before he died I signed up to the 365Project which is a free website where the basic premise is that you take and upload a photo each day.

It took a while for me to return to this project after Greg died, and when I did it was with photos that simply documented our lives.

...and ever so slowly, my photos improved in both content and technique.

 I can now look back over the last 2 and a bit years and see that my photographs are increasingly full of colour and joy again..... possibly more colour and joy than I feel .... but proof that for at least part of every day, I have sought beauty around me and captured it in an image.

...and I am thankful for that.

*At no point should it replace quality professional therapy..... but if it can lift your eyes from the floor on even the darkest days, then it as therapy worth doing.