Shattered inside. That’s how I’m feeling today. I have no specific reason to feel that way, and yet I do.
The truth is that I’ve had an especially celebratory weekend. Yesterday, I got to celebrate a friend’s 50th birthday. Such great people. So grateful to have met them. And, today, I got to celebrate a mom friend’s graduation from college, surrounded by wonderful women whom I was so fortunate to find when I moved up to Stuart four years ago.
We have laughed and cried together, celebrated and worried over our children. They’ve taught me much about family and friendship. About community. About love, acceptance, and forgiveness. We’ve watched each other’s children grow, and we have grown too, as mothers, as wives, as people.
I am truly blessed to know many intelligent, interesting, dynamic women, and when I get to spend time with them, my soul is nourished.
But today, I am off balance. Needing quiet. Needing rest.
I don’t know precisely why I feel so fragile today, but I recognize that I do.
So many pieces of my life are in transition. Perhaps it is the knowledge that I am not going to see these friends as often. Perhaps it is the impending return to work and school. Perhaps it is just a normal part of the grieving process.
I don’t know why, but I do know the emotions are right there, just below the surface, looking for a crack, an opening, a release.
The genuinely concerned question and tender look in a friend’s eyes is all it takes. “How are you? How are you doing?” And I crumble inside.
In the moment it takes to consider how I feel, my eyes well up. My throat tightens.
But not here, not now, not in the midst of a celebration of someone else’s life.
I’ve noticed I’ve been struggling in the last week. Simple phone calls or texts that I would normally respond to immediately go unanswered. I feel bad. And, I still don’t pick up the phone. I think I am beginning to understand why.
It hurts too much to hold it in.
And, it is right there. And it catches me off guard. On the phone with the agent who must deal with her retirement benefits. In the midst of a party.
So, please continue to invite me. If I don’t show up, or call back, please forgive me and please try not to take it personally. I’m doing the best I can. And, I don’t want to dump on you.
And, if we are alone, and you ask me how I am, I will tell you, if you really want to listen. And, I will cry. Freely, if I feel safe to let it out.
And I will be grateful for the comfort of your being with me through my grief.
Tectonic shifts are violent. I am rough around the edges and shaken to the core. It is going to take time to soften and reshape the landscape.
Please be patient with me as I learn to be patient with myself.