Tuesday, April 24, 2012
In an earlier post I mourned my lack of relevance to anyone on a daily basis. Who cares what I'm eating, thinking, feeling, doing? It doesn't impact their lives. No one else lives under this roof with me. No devoted man's got my back. I'm unhitched. God, I'm lonely.
I'M BEGINNING TO FLOURISH IN THIS ENVIRONMENT. Is something wrong with me? Is this self care? Enjoying my own company again? I'll be up a creek without a paddle if I get physically injured. But I like living alone. Eating whenever I'm hungry. Watching whatever I want to on TV. I'm beginning to feel like I did in my twenties, no, even better. I've no pressure to please anyone or take care of anyone. I can't bite off as much. I need more sleep. So I bite off less.
Now I ditch the meaningless activities, and savor the meaningful ones. I'm happy with 'good enough'. I'm tired of being the strong, amazing, superwoman who is doing so well. Seven years in and I'm still struggling. It is what it is. I keep the property in decent enough shape. Feed the cats. Hug the cats. Write this blog, because it's helping me get a handle on life post widowhood.
Less and less am I looking for somebody to take over the tasks I don't want to do. I've forgotten what it's like for me to cook dinner and for him wash the dishes. I've forgotten what it's like for me to do the laundry and for him take care of the oil changes and trash. I've forgotten what it's like to have a live-in handyman. I've forgotten what it's like to share the bed night after night. I do really miss the last one.
Still, I'm afraid that if I put me first I'll push away anybody that could love me. I don't know the answer. Is it OK to put me first?
Sunday, April 8, 2012
I am fortunate. My husband died in the season new life takes root. He loved Easter, rather he loved the promise that while darkness held Jesus in its grip those three days, the light of resurrection stripped death and darkness of its power. Real life, and real light, took up permanent residence.
By some strange coincidence, his passage into death mirrored his beloved story. I was there. I felt his spirit enter mine after he died. I don't feel very sorry and sad, either for him or for myself, on this seventh anniversary.
I haven't wanted to celebrate Easter since he passed. I haven't followed the Christian calendar. A little sting still there? I have 'followed' God, though, so I'm quite sure God isn't bothered by my little failure of Christian etiquette.
Friday, April 6, 2012
I just finished my 'transitional' relationship. My first involvement of body, heart and soul since my husband's death. I'm so glad I took the chance with this man, because it was wonderful to have a man's arms around me again. I came to love him, too, and that's never a loss.
It began on JD's 64th birthday, April 4, 2011, and ended on his 65th birthday, 2012. On his birthday. In a garden, after treating him to lunch.
Let's back up to one year ago. My first deep infatuation had just ended without consummation. The floodgates of female passion had opened wide and had no where to go. Well, one way to get over someone is to meet someone new, right? Enter JD. He was friendly, handsome, and harmless. Totally trustworthy. But with four underage kids still at home he was Mr. Mom. With full and fair disclosure, he said the kids came first, he came second, and any woman came third.
I was lonely. Maybe if I approached him as 'summer fling' material, I could swing this. Maybe we could be more, my heart and body said during the fall. We'd come to love each other in a way. Twice we came back together to try to work something out. Still, I was stunned when I heard the "I'm just not that into you" speech last Tuesday. Could have fooled me. He had invited me to Easter dinner with his family.
Did I want to go through the door he had just shown me? Next day, on his birthday, I made sure I understood him correctly. Yes. This time the good byes were for real. I cried, and surprisingly, he did, too.
JD, I so enjoyed knowing you.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
I'm talking pleasure, that wonderful sensory experience in the here and now. My very own measure of pleasure. The pleasure of one's hand on life's throttle. What am we waiting for? You and I have the power of ONE. Every uphill in life has to have a downhill, so let's go for it!
First. Love the fingers, the toes, and everything in between. Throw out something that's holding us back. Tear off the last sheet of the to-do list. Let somebody else save the world today.
Now. Make a certain somebody laugh. Make that certain somebody very welcome in your home. Hug that certain somebody very firmly. Squeeze hard, because I'll wager that that glum face has a smile tucked inside. I'm talking about you and me.
Sure, we suffered, and had setback after setback. All the more reason for Project Pleasure to come to our house.
Are you still reading this? Get out of here and do the Pleasure project!
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