Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Beginnings, Endings, and All Things Between
There aren't many things I know for sure. In fact, the older I get, the less I'm sure of anything at all. I'm not sure anymore if there is an all-knowing God who has form and substance and who has a grand kingdom in the sky where we will all meet again one day. I'm not sure if the next day is coming or even if the next breath will come. But one thing I'm sure of is that I know love when I see it. It's rarely neat or tidy. It's usually quite messy, at times, but it can be beautiful when the light is just right. For me, it isn't always at the beginning. Sometimes it is in the little moments that take me by surprise -- a flower picked during a walk, a smile that warms me to see it, the smell of a home-cooked meal. Some relationships are full of those things and not so full of the unpleasant ones, or maybe if the love is right, the unpleasantness isn't so pervasive.
Beginnings are great, especially in relationships, but I'm terrible at endings, just dreadful. For me, endings are angry, spiteful, nasty, awful things that result in long periods of not speaking. I'm not sure why I'm this way. It's something I need to examine a little more closely, because the type of endings I'm capable of don't really jive with my life view. I'm not that kind of person, really, but I can be. I know this about myself. I just don't know how to make it stop. It's like I am so angry that I don't know what to do other than to lash out and shut down. Part of it, I think, is fear. I am so afraid of what will happen that I explode.
This isn't me taking all the blame for my last relationship's end, but it's me saying, "I know I was responsible for more than 50% of the anger and angst at the end."
For some reason I've been haunted for about 48 hours now about my last relationship. It could be because I've been thinking I have to get back to the writing during winter break from school. It could be because I took my winter coat out this week to wear to a doctor's appointment. It smelled of mountain air and horses. Or is it because I've been dreaming of horses and of trail rides? Those aren't my things to dream about. It isn't that I don't like horses, but they are not my thing; they were her thing. When I dream of beaches, oceans, bulldogs, and libraries -- that's me. When I dream of horses, campsites, mountains, or pickup trucks, that's her.
So why am I traveling these foreign roads? I can't be sure, but it might be because I'm processing a lot of things right now. The holidays are going to be rough for the rest of my life. Thanksgiving Day was absolutely horrible. I put a place setting where Stephanie sat the last time she was with us at the holidays. I also thought about where I was last year. It all came to a head, and I spent a good deal of the day crying my heart out. Nothing feels like it has ever worked. That is hyperbolic, to be sure, but that is the way I've been feeling. I just barely got through that day. It crept by.
One night Sean dreamed of Stephanie coming to see him, going to a movie with him, and then playing video games with him. The next night I dreamed of her sitting in a living room talking to me.
When Stephanie died, I shattered like a broken mirror. Pieces of me went every which way. I don't know any other way to describe it, but this is why I feel like I don't trust anything I used to believe. I am having to pick up - not where I left off - where I landed with no history to base anything on. I feel like a newborn adult. I have nothing that I know is true. Each thing comes to me anew, and I have to test it to see if it will hold water. I hate that I have hurt some people during this horrible time of mourning, but I haven't been myself. I'm so damned scared of endings now that I'm just horrible at dealing with them. I've had one too many endings for this life. I'm sorry to say it, but if you haven't walked in these shoes, there's no way you can really feel what I feel. She couldn't feel what I felt. She didn't get it. That's not her fault, but it's the reality. I know I was impossible to deal with some days, but so was she. Maybe this is all my heart telling me that it's okay to have good memories. I just can't ever cross that bridge again.
With Christmas on its way (gosh...in a half-hour it will be December already!) and with so much going on in my head right now, the only things I can be sure of are that I am still breathing and my daughter is still out there in the spirit world. I don't have proof but I have a very sure feeling about that in my heart. With so few things feeling solid under my feet, I'll grab onto those and hold them tightly. Everything else will have to work itself out piece by piece in my dreams, in my musings, or on this blog.
Peace - D