For more reasons than one, it's hard to believe that it's been one whole year and 8 months since Wolfie's birth. The resonance of the holiday season we just passed through still rings in my head. On Christmas morning I thought about Wolfie a lot...mostly of all the cool new toddler toys that would have been under (and around, and spilling out all over the place from) the tree.
And being that it's New Years Day, I'm feeling particularly sentimental about the 2012. Last April we marked the milestone of it having been one-year since everything happened. It was a strange sort-of milestone, filled with fears and anxiety. At the time I was concerned for my mental health and "losing it" - so to speak, so in an attempt to prepare for any unknown emotional breakdowns, I shut myself in from the subject and did as little outside communication as possible during that time. And I have to say, I think it helped. There comes a point where the wound is sufficiently aired out and now it just needs some internal nourishment to further heal.
But our year wasn't all discourse and sadness. Ben and I both work a lot, and while our jobs and responsibilities may come at a time-management and sacrifice price, we are both very grateful that we don't have to worry about many things involving that. Plus, I think we can both agree that it's nice to be able to fully immerse yourself in something other than your own thoughts during the daily grind. Our jobs have been almost the only protein we consume in an otherwise poor diet of daily life... they're good and they're keeping us feeling healthy and good.
But if I had to sum up 2012 in one word for myself it would be "dislocation". Or, at least, that's the one word that's really sticking out for me today. I don't feel disassociated from things... I feel dislocated from them. Like an arm that's come loose from a socket, I'm still there in sinew and flesh, but the bone has come loose, and I'm hanging limp and although I can still feel everything I don't feel like I have the proper connection to do anything about it.
Most of the dislocation has been self-inflicted. And it's made us into shut-ins. A small part of me wants to go out, spend time with friends, dance the night away, etc... but mostly I just want to watch TV and fall asleep. Depression? Maybe. Getting older? Maybe that too. Lazy? Yes possibly. I feel it happening to my life as if I'm being slowly injected with some kind of sedative... and I'm struggling to keep my eyes awake in life and not completely fade into hermit-dom. But I am unsure how to stop it. The bottom line is that the motivation to go out and "have fun" just isn't there. We can arrange to do fun things together, but the shoe of life has almost completely lost it's shine. Is there no more marrow for us to suck? Is all the world now painted black?
in the quiet drive-time during a better-late-than-never vacation just a few weeks ago....
Ben and I started talking about our dreams. Mostly our dreams involve business and enterprise in some way. I suppose some couples talk of gardens and numbers of bedrooms... but at this juncture in life we talk of work. It was such a break-through moment, but you'd never know it with us. We realized that our dreams can be combined into one epic life-dream... and that they are feasible. We realized that all our other dreams can be grandfathered in at some point too. We've been crawling around in the dirt of our sorrow and our unknown futures for a while now, and this one discussion drew an outline for the structural support for beams for the floor for the foundation for the ground-level of our newly decided life-dream. The plan is a little shaky and we're not too clear how to get from a to zed but the light of a goal shining through an open window is all we may need to climb out of this dislocation.
And another open window too. Since everything I've not only been shut-in but also shut-off. I haven't honestly wanted to get pregnant again... for fears... for grief... for lack of zeal. I worried that if we had another little one that my emotional lachrymose would rob our second child of the deserving excitement. I didn't want to bring a precious baby into my jaded, tarnished, and depressed world. And it's taken me this long to consider that my cup never empties for love... and certainly never empties for desire for a child despite my brain trying to convince me it's "not a good time". So, here's a little open window. It's the same open window we left cracked when we got married... maybe the stork will come, maybe it won't. But now I'm open to it, and actually... to tell you the truth... a little excited about what that may hold. But even in that same breath I tell you that I cover that joy and excitement with rationality... after all, we've already been shown that joy can be ripped right out from our grasping hands.
So, here's to a new year. To healing. To finding joy, and keeping joy. To open windows and life-dreams. To relocation and going out and having fun. To gardens and good jobs. To having energy and spending time. May all the marrow of life be yours.