Hi All,
Today is Monday and it's January 6. I've had trouble getting to my computer to write lately. I guess to be more accurate I just haven't wanted to get to my computer to write. I don't know why exactly. Maybe I just got sick of examining my grief or my life. As someone who is a compulsive examiner this is...new? concerning? both? neither? I honestly don't know. I've tried to be honest in my writing in this blog. I've tried to write how I feel and not consider how my feelings sound or seem to anyone except myself. So, that said, I think I got sick of my feelings for a while. I felt bad when I wasn't writing because I worried maybe there are people who read this to see if I am ok and wonder when I don't post but then I realized that I cant write for anyone except me. I seem to be selfish like that.
Anyway, that said, I seem to want to hear myself again or examine myself. The anniversary of my Dad's death was monumental in my healing it seems and in some strange ways closed a door that I couldn't quite shut before then. I don't really know what the door was. I don't know what the door meant. I don't know if will open again either. It is a new door and it is a mystery door. I know that for sure. My new mystery door is a trap door, a sliding door, a screen door, a rock solid wooden door, a glass door, a hidden door, and sometimes, maybe, a locked door. I have tried my best to learn all about this door. I have tried to lock it. I have tried to figure out how to unlock it. Truth be told, I cant seem to do either predictably. Sometimes I think the door is gone and then something happens, I hear a song, and the door is swung wide open.
Where does my door lead me? Does it move me forward or backward if I go inside and follow it. I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter because every time the door opens I find myself propelled inside of it, sometimes falling, sometimes walking, sometimes skipping, and sometimes, feeling my way around looking for light a light switch and hoping I don't get hurt before I find it.
The times I have felt closest to my Dad over the holidays were when I was doing things that I felt he would be proud of or enjoy too. During these times he was just my Dad and I didn't have his death right there in front. I just had him in front. These are good times. Good doors that I am happy to enter.Other times when I'm reminded of his death, when people talk about suicide, or when I cross bridges, or when something else triggers that idea. That is the trap door. I have fallen down it so many times that it is no longer that scary. I guess even trap doors get predictable once you fall down them enough.
Really, I guess that's the magic in healing. Not that the doors to pain or sadness disappear but that we learn where they are and we learn where they go. We learn that we can survive the fall because we do. We learn that we can walk inside and not break because we do walk inside and we don't break. It's painful falling. It hurts and it is scary and, trust me when I tell you that I understand how you might want to avoid it so much that you don't even go inside yourself anymore because you are too scared. The problem is that we have to go inside ourselves or we get lost. If we don't live inside of ourselves where then do we live? We live only on the outside of ourselves then. We live superficially, externally, and we begin...slowly to lose ourselves and then to lose everyone else too. So, I guess, I'm just here reporting back from my journey to say that I'm here and I'm ok.
xxK
Today is Monday and it's January 6. I've had trouble getting to my computer to write lately. I guess to be more accurate I just haven't wanted to get to my computer to write. I don't know why exactly. Maybe I just got sick of examining my grief or my life. As someone who is a compulsive examiner this is...new? concerning? both? neither? I honestly don't know. I've tried to be honest in my writing in this blog. I've tried to write how I feel and not consider how my feelings sound or seem to anyone except myself. So, that said, I think I got sick of my feelings for a while. I felt bad when I wasn't writing because I worried maybe there are people who read this to see if I am ok and wonder when I don't post but then I realized that I cant write for anyone except me. I seem to be selfish like that.
Anyway, that said, I seem to want to hear myself again or examine myself. The anniversary of my Dad's death was monumental in my healing it seems and in some strange ways closed a door that I couldn't quite shut before then. I don't really know what the door was. I don't know what the door meant. I don't know if will open again either. It is a new door and it is a mystery door. I know that for sure. My new mystery door is a trap door, a sliding door, a screen door, a rock solid wooden door, a glass door, a hidden door, and sometimes, maybe, a locked door. I have tried my best to learn all about this door. I have tried to lock it. I have tried to figure out how to unlock it. Truth be told, I cant seem to do either predictably. Sometimes I think the door is gone and then something happens, I hear a song, and the door is swung wide open.
Where does my door lead me? Does it move me forward or backward if I go inside and follow it. I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter because every time the door opens I find myself propelled inside of it, sometimes falling, sometimes walking, sometimes skipping, and sometimes, feeling my way around looking for light a light switch and hoping I don't get hurt before I find it.
The times I have felt closest to my Dad over the holidays were when I was doing things that I felt he would be proud of or enjoy too. During these times he was just my Dad and I didn't have his death right there in front. I just had him in front. These are good times. Good doors that I am happy to enter.Other times when I'm reminded of his death, when people talk about suicide, or when I cross bridges, or when something else triggers that idea. That is the trap door. I have fallen down it so many times that it is no longer that scary. I guess even trap doors get predictable once you fall down them enough.
Really, I guess that's the magic in healing. Not that the doors to pain or sadness disappear but that we learn where they are and we learn where they go. We learn that we can survive the fall because we do. We learn that we can walk inside and not break because we do walk inside and we don't break. It's painful falling. It hurts and it is scary and, trust me when I tell you that I understand how you might want to avoid it so much that you don't even go inside yourself anymore because you are too scared. The problem is that we have to go inside ourselves or we get lost. If we don't live inside of ourselves where then do we live? We live only on the outside of ourselves then. We live superficially, externally, and we begin...slowly to lose ourselves and then to lose everyone else too. So, I guess, I'm just here reporting back from my journey to say that I'm here and I'm ok.
xxK
