Homeless?

Of all the articles about grief that I have read this past year, the one that stuck with me was the one that told me I am miserable because I am no longer with the person who DEFINED me.

Okay – so maybe that is it - the answer to this sorrowful plight. So, if it is the answer, now what?

Could it really be true that I don’t know who I am anymore because I WAS who I was because we were together? Now, who am I? How do I feel? I don’t know how to say how I feel. What’s the right word? Today it struck me that maybe I feel like a homeless person. That would sound strange to someone who knows me because they can see I live in a comfortable little cottage. It is dry and safe. I can have anything I want to eat. I have more clothes than I need. Homeless? The word entered my mind because the feelings I have are those of a lost, helpless person, stumbling around, wondering things like how I ended up like this and what’s next for me and how the rest of my life is going to play out. Sure, I have gone back to work, and I have laughed – things I thought I would never do again. But something keeps nagging at me – wanting my life back the way it was. Nagging enough to keep me uneasy and uncertain and afraid. A bad dream isn’t just a bad dream anymore. I wake up to a second nightmare when I find myself awake and alone.

Why do I mentally insist that I want my life back when I know it is impossible? When I was not alone, there were days when it was so hard that I fantasized about being alone. (Yikes! Did I really say that?) And therein lies much of what makes my grief harder and more terrifying – those unresolved issues. The KNOWING that there were things both of us should have taken care of and didn’t – and now they are forever undone.

So I wander and wonder in this current “homeless” state, not comfortable in my own skin. I will wait for peace and acceptance of my "new normal".

Blessings to all!
Majo