Blank Page

Another day.

Another blank page.

This is what has plagued me for months.

So many emotions, no words.

I realized why I am so tired at the end of each day.  I go through a full range of emotions.  And it is so freaking exhausting.

Our brains are amazing.  They do things to protect us.  Many nights, I think my brain shuts down just to stop this endless processing of feelings.

I simply cannot have one more thought in my head.

This week hurt my fragile heart.  Sometimes, I think I would rather be consumed with work because it is easier to cope with than the reality of my life. 

That’s a lie.  This work that I do, it’s close to my heart too.  

And so tonight, I’m going to let my brain take over.

I’m going to let tonight be a blank page.



This post is part of my 31 Day series.  To start from the beginning, click here.

Apologies

I had coffee with a friend the other day.  The events of the past months came spilling out.  I felt that I needed to apologize.  Of course, she was very gracious and understood.
I still feel like I need to let people know that this is not who I am.

I am not defined by my crisis.

I am really not a complainer.  I am not someone who is a negative nelly.

But I feel like it.

Sometimes I feel like every time someone asks how I am doing, I have more crap spilling out.  I try to put a leash on it, but it comes out anyway.

Because here’s the reality.  This is who I am right now.

This is a difficult season.  Challenging, sad, confusing.  And I need to get over this idea that I need to apologize for who I am.

Sometimes, I want to scream, “THIS IS WHO I AM!  JUDGE ME, I DON’T CARE!”  And maybe add some profanity for emphasis.

That doesn’t seem appropriate in a professional setting though.  And to be honest, I do care. 

I think that’s one of the lovely benefits about being around family and friends.  People who know you and already know your story.  I don’t have to say, “I’m crazy right now because my mom died.”  When I eat a bunch of chips and chocolate at work, no one asks questions.  They understand.  They probably judge me a bit.  But only with their eyes.

So this is me right now, folks.  Messy. 

And damn it, I’m not sorry.  Profanity used for emphasis, of course.

This post is part of my 31 Day series.  To start from the beginning, click here.

31 Days-Day 1

For the past couple of years in October (2012 and 2013), I have participated in the 31 Days writing event hosted by The Nester.

This year, I am a bit weary.

My writing has been almost non-existent.

It started fading with our preparations to move.  Not enough time, too many projects.

And after my mom’s cancer diagnosis, the words simply wouldn’t come.

I know my voice is still there.  But the voice gets lost in a crisis.

I’ve had moments these past couple of weeks when I start remembering things about myself.  I turned into my neighborhood a couple days ago, admiring the crisp air and thought, “I like fall.”  I’ve always looked forward to this season.  And I forgot.

Turning away from my inner voice hasn’t helped.  Well, maybe it helped get through those long days in August.  Maybe it helped get through returning to the routine of life.  Not really thinking, just doing.

But now I feel like I need more.  I’m waking up…remembering.  Kind of.  Some days are better than others. 

I want to keep moving forward.  I’m worried that if I don’t start moving forward, I will get stuck.  I won’t be a real person anymore.  I will just be someone who “gets through” life.  I’ve done that before.  Survival mode.  It’s not living.

Moving forward isn’t about forgetting.  Moving forward isn’t about pretending I don’t have bad moments…or bad days.  Moving forward isn’t about perfection. 

Moving forward is about simplicity.  Moving forward is about quiet moments.  Moving forward is giving myself grace.

So for the next 31 days (ok, 30 days), I’m going to do my best to force the voice the come out.  Even if it is just for a tiny bit. 

A small reflection. 

A moment.

To read all posts in the series, please look below.

Day 2-Apologies

Day 3-Blank Page

Day 4-Another Story

Day 5-Comfort

Day 6-Standing Still

Day 7-Little Hearts

Day 8-Sometimes We Cry

Day 9-Dreams

Day 10-Sleepless

Day 11-Slowing Down

Day 12-Rest Day

Day 13-Good Days

Day 14-Familiar Stories

Day 15-16 Coats

Day 16-Longing

Day 17-Pandas with Wigs

Day 18-RIP Elwood Wilson

Day 19-Sundays

Day 20-Quiet Time

Day 21-Brain Rest

Day 22-At Least

Day 23-Sisters' Day

Day 24-A Hole in My Soul

Day 25-Honesty

Day 26-Storms

Day 27-Messy

Day 28-Big Faith

Day 29-The Rising

Day 30-When the Words Finally Came

Day 31-Last Day

Everything

This year has been full of ups and downs.

Billy and I planned out our move.  So excited and full of hope.  Only to be schooled on the reality of the housing market. 

And in the midst of that frustration was the news that my mom had cancer.

So when we finally found our dream home, there was a shadow. 

I was happy…but not all the way.

And then my mom passed away.  And the last month has been full of heartache.

I think about those years in survival mode.  Maybe struggling through those times was in a way easier than this.

There has been one constant.  Billy.

I keep thinking about these song lyrics lately:

This weight’s too much alone
Some days I can't hold it at all
You take it on for me

Because some days, I just can’t. 

He talks me down.  He takes care of me.

And when I need him to just be there, he is.

I know that we are only at the tip of a very long journey to finding a new “normal.”

I’m so grateful that he’s by my side.

Colors Fade

Our journey back from my mom’s funeral covered a few states.  That’s a lot of long hours…to think.

I spent a lot of time in silence, looking out the window.  Everything looked different.  I couldn’t describe it.  It just did.

A song came on, “Colors” by Amos Lee.  I’ve always loved that song.  It was painful to listen to that day, particularly this lyric, when you’re gone, all the colors fade.

There it was.  The grass wasn’t as green, the sky wasn’t as blue, images didn’t seem as crisp.

I thought I was going crazy.  Driving to work, I noticed the same.  And the images that brought me peace and comfort, the rolling hills, pastures and mountains brought melancholy.

It wasn’t until I got to work and was sharing my story with a friend that I put it together.  She talked about when her mom died.  “The grass wasn’t the same color,” she said.

And there it is.

My world is different now.

One day, I hope the world around me brings me comfort again.

I hope the gentle deer on the hill bring me joy.  I hope the cattle grazing make me smile.

I hope the grass is green again.

I hope.