Authenticity, the journey

When did my authenticity journey begin and why is it so important?  Those are 2 questions that over the course of time will be answered in probably more detail than I realize at this current moment.

Here’s what I know right now:  I feel alive.  I’m sitting here with my work laptop starting this blog and I actually feel like I’m living.  I haven’t felt this way in a very long time.  I don’t know what it is about expressing myself through words that brings life and rejuvenation to me, but it does.  So for the first time, again in a very long time, I’m going to go with it.  I think I’ll even run with it!

I do have much to learn about blogs and how they’re set up, so my hope is any readers will be patient as my journey in blogging unfolds.  It’s already filled with excitement, some anxiety in learning how it all works, definitely some humor among many other adjectives and adverbs that describe life.  Yes, this blog will definitely contain humor.  One of the greatest gifts I’ve given myself is the gift of laughing at myself, especially when I try too hard and well, you can only imagine what happens when anyone tries too hard…..

Reality does indeed bite

Grief. We don’t like it. We don’t want to talk about it. We want to somehow live our life without it. We pacify children that cry because their balloon flew away. We pacify ourselves with a glass of wine or a cocktail or two or ten pending the circumstances. My question is when do we actually experience it to know how to live through it and get to another side? Do we ever sit in the grief fully immersed so we know we can survive it?

One of the things I experienced with grief is it literally feels as though my chest will be crushed under the weight of it. There’s a deep ache like no other: it’s heavy, stifling and I feel like I cannot breathe. The breaths I do manage to take are shallow and raspy and I want to collapse on the floor and disappear into nothingness. I have collapsed on the floor, sobbing, aching, feeling sick and yet I do not disappear. When the tsunami of grief has subsided (this time) I’m exhausted, and the reality of my Mom leaving this earth for Heaven remains my reality.

What do I do with this reality? This life altering truth, that has rocked me to my core, has caused me to question almost all of my adult life choices. How do I keep walking this journey called life? You know what? I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’m praying a whole lot (important to me to say NO specific religion) walking my dog and trying to work.

I know this, it does not get easier after a few weeks. As a matter of fact, it gets harder, much harder. The weight of the reality sets in a little heavier each day….. Mom is not coming back: I’m not going to see her again on this earth. That weighs tons and sits directly on my chest threatening to crush me at any given time.

I don’t have answers at this point, but I’m going to write. I’m going to write as I walk this so that maybe I can figure something out. Maybe someone else will figure something out.

Here is what I do know: for those who think after a few weeks you ought to be getting better, even all right, I’ve got news for them……

Memories – a perfect Valentine

My Mom, heart, soul, peace and comfort. She is beautiful.

When I was in 2nd grade, our class made a Valentines Day art project for our Moms. It was fairly simple, a red construction paper heart, paper lace doily hearts glued on a strip of paper attached to the red heart. I remember being proud of what I had done and so excited to give it to Mom.

At the end of the school day, I carefully picked it up ready for the block and a half journey home from school. The trouble is this particular day the wind was blowing, and it was fairly cold. Being so young I didn’t think about somehow putting it inside my coat (not blaming, but sure wish a teacher had thought of this) so when I started walking home the wind caught it and ripped off a couple of the lace doily hearts. I was heartbroken! My perfect Valentine for my Mom was ruined!*

I came in the door so upset and crying that her Valentine was ruined.

When I think of that day, I can feel the comfort of my Mom…… we sat at the kitchen table, and she helped me “fix it” with 2 construction paper hearts so that all would be well and I could give her a perfect Valentine from me.

My Mom…. peace, comfort and beauty.

*(Want to note here, that given who my dad was, getting anything for Mom for Valentines Day or really any time was not an option which added a heavy weight to every school made gift for her.)