I read a post called "The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same" from A Tiny Treasure in Heaven that started me thinking about my own journey.
Losing Carly is still the worst thing that has ever happened. It is still a huge void in my life that can never be filled. It is still a heartbreak that curses my thoughts every day.
How is that any different than 12, 13, or 14 months ago when this journey began?
Not much.
The only thing different is how I choose to cope, deal, manage, and keep moving forward. It's the only thing I have any type of control over.
Let go, and let God. The first year was spent learning to let go. It was a daily struggle for a very long time until I finally noticed that the harder I tried to find answers, or explanations, the more I was exhausted, confused and frustrated. The more I hated myself. The more out of control I felt. I finally decided that if I was meant to know, it will come to me. Selfishly, I thought that if I would just be calm and quiet in my mind, surely I would get the answers I was seeking. As if God owed it to me for exhibiting such good behavior and self control. Well, I still haven't gotten any answers, but what I did find was a little peace. I found a way to take myself to a place that is quiet and void of swirling, unanswerable questions. A place where I can hang out when I want to, and there is no blame, no shame, and no questions.
I finally resigned myself to the fact that I will never understand why this happened to us. I can best describe it as letting go of hope, because you now know nothing can ever change what happened and it just is. For some, letting go of hope sounds like a miserable place to be in your life. In this case, it's exactly what you need and it's freeing. I can hope for other things if I'd like. In fact, I still find myself hoping for her back in my arms from time-to-time, but not in a realistic way. It's just nice to tickle my memories of her just so I can make sure they are still there, and when I do that, a little glimmer of hope comes in so I end the session with a sigh, and a wish that she would magically appear anytime.
I think that about sums up the only thing that has changed in year one. They say year two is harder. They say that's because the numb, and shock has all worn off and the full weight of grief now rests on your shoulders unassisted. I'm not so sure I agree. I still feel the same pain, and the shock is still there only now, it's okay because I've had enough time to become intimately acquainted with it. I have seen every inth of in 3D, and I own it. It is mine and I control it... well, at least better than I used to. I know what it can do to me, but I also know how to react when I feel it sneaking up behind me. I go to that quiet place where I used to look for answers. Sometimes that's where I let the tears warm and wet my face and other times I might just spend some time wishing, dreaming and hoping.
How is last year any different than this year?
Losing Carly is still the worst thing that has ever happened. It is still a huge void in my life that can never be filled. It is still a heartbreak that curses my thoughts every day.
How is that any different than 12, 13, or 14 months ago when this journey began?
Not much.
The only thing different is how I choose to cope, deal, manage, and keep moving forward. It's the only thing I have any type of control over.
Let go, and let God. The first year was spent learning to let go. It was a daily struggle for a very long time until I finally noticed that the harder I tried to find answers, or explanations, the more I was exhausted, confused and frustrated. The more I hated myself. The more out of control I felt. I finally decided that if I was meant to know, it will come to me. Selfishly, I thought that if I would just be calm and quiet in my mind, surely I would get the answers I was seeking. As if God owed it to me for exhibiting such good behavior and self control. Well, I still haven't gotten any answers, but what I did find was a little peace. I found a way to take myself to a place that is quiet and void of swirling, unanswerable questions. A place where I can hang out when I want to, and there is no blame, no shame, and no questions.
I finally resigned myself to the fact that I will never understand why this happened to us. I can best describe it as letting go of hope, because you now know nothing can ever change what happened and it just is. For some, letting go of hope sounds like a miserable place to be in your life. In this case, it's exactly what you need and it's freeing. I can hope for other things if I'd like. In fact, I still find myself hoping for her back in my arms from time-to-time, but not in a realistic way. It's just nice to tickle my memories of her just so I can make sure they are still there, and when I do that, a little glimmer of hope comes in so I end the session with a sigh, and a wish that she would magically appear anytime.
I think that about sums up the only thing that has changed in year one. They say year two is harder. They say that's because the numb, and shock has all worn off and the full weight of grief now rests on your shoulders unassisted. I'm not so sure I agree. I still feel the same pain, and the shock is still there only now, it's okay because I've had enough time to become intimately acquainted with it. I have seen every inth of in 3D, and I own it. It is mine and I control it... well, at least better than I used to. I know what it can do to me, but I also know how to react when I feel it sneaking up behind me. I go to that quiet place where I used to look for answers. Sometimes that's where I let the tears warm and wet my face and other times I might just spend some time wishing, dreaming and hoping.
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