Sunday, March 14, 2010
Originally uploaded by me_on_flickr
Why is it that one day's optimism can, the next day, turn into what feels like physical labor?
Yesterday I was feeling like I had a good grip on my emotions, meaning that I could see the silver lining. Then last night I had one of those nights where I don't seem to allow myself to sleep. I choose not to turn out the light. I choose not to turn off this computer. I'm not really focused on anything, but fight falling asleep. Eventually, around 2 am, I decided enough was enough, and I turned everything off and attempted to sleep. I think I did sleep for most of the night, although I had some strange dreams.
At this point in the day I don't even remember the dreams themselves, only that I had them. I am aware that the content of the dreams made me restless, and even caused me to wake up a few time. In the morning I tried to catch up on some sleep, but in time made myself get out of bed. I didn't feel rested, and I'm sure I didn't look rested. I felt unsettled, maybe dissatisfied. I'm not even sure what I was feeling dissatisfied about. If I could only remember the content of the dreams, I would have a better understanding of my mood today.
I remember this morning, while still feeling a bit groggy, thinking about the many people that were in my dreams. I know that my kids were there, and various family members, but I couldn't remember if Michael was there. It has been exactly 6 months now since he died, and I don't have any conscious recollection of him ever appearing in my dreams. Actually, I don't have any real recollection of any dreams during these six months. I want so badly to experience Michael's presence in a dream, hoping that it will bring me comfort. Yet, it doesn't happen.
I worry that the dreams I am having are set in a time that predates my being with Michael. My life today feels very much like before we met, yet with greater sadness and depression. I am always aware that I have lost him, yet in my day to day life, it almost feels like he was never here. For this reason I have chosen to not fully participate in my life right now. I don't make much of an effort to do anything for myself. I don't really look for opportunities to enjoy life. That's not to say I don't have enjoyment, I do. I just don't try to make it happen.
I think that the initial months after Michael's death were dominated with a sense of detachment from my world. My reality seemed so foreign to the reality of those around me. I suppose it still does. Yet I find that it is evolving a bit, causing me to feel more unmotivated, and just living the life I once had. The life I had before meeting Michael was not a bad life, it just wasn't as fulfilling or rewarding. Living the life of a single parent, you have to do a lot of self talk. You have to weigh out your decisions on your own. You have to find a way of letting go of those things you cannot control. And, you pretty much have to do this alone.
In the years past I was fairly good at being a single dad. I think I still am. I know I could do better, yet my grief limits what reserve I have on a given day. What used to refuel me, is no longer there. For the past 3 1/2 years Michael was what refueled me. Before him my focus on healthy eating and exercise is what fueled me. These days I don't have either of these. I think back to a prior post, which was a commentary on effects of grief on my body. More and more, I don't like what I see when I look in the mirror. I don't like how I feel moving around in my world. I don't like the unmotivated person I have become.
I'm not quite sure what it is going to take to change this. I'm hoping that something sneaks up and catches me off guard, and I find myself moving is some particular direction. It's almost like I am passively waiting for my life to change. I'm waiting for that silver lining that is supposed to come with great tragedies. Each day some layer of grief should be peeling off, helping to reveal the silver lining I seek. For awhile I thought it was my blog, or something grief related. Maybe it still is, but I find myself questioning if I am putting too many expectations here.
So far, the only thing being revealed as silver, is my hair. My days are no longer completely dark and bleak, but they are definitely shades of grey. Grey is not bad I suppose, in fact I love the color grey. But I can't help but feel that my life is devoid of the many colors that make it more interesting and joyful.
All this makes me think of the 12 step motto, "one day at a time." For me, I suppose I'll just take it one hue at a time.