Thursday, November 23, 2017
In the overall scheme of things, I know that I'm blessed and very fortunate. I have a job, I have a place to live, I have reliable transportation, I don't want for food or beverage or clothes, and I have friends. But, sometimes, even knowing that there are millions of people who don't have the basic necessities of life, it's hard for my rational mind to let all of that sink in. That may also be because my rational mind isn't always the one in control nowadays.
I struggle every day to get out of bed. I struggle every day to get out of the house, to go to work. I struggle to do what I need to do at work and otherwise. Outwardly, I think I appear fine. Every day, I maintain the facade that everything is ok, that I'm ok, while inside, I have to make a conscious effort to appear that way, to maintain the illusion when I'm around people, when at times, I feel like I'm just standing at the edge of an abyss. I think the rollercoaster aspect is what throws me off. There will be short moments, maybe a few minutes at a time, when I am fine, really fine, and there are other times when I'm at least managing ok. But then, there are also the moments when darkness creeps back in, and I can feel myself sinking again, and it's all I can do to hold on and stay afloat. That those dark times still return periodically throws me off guard every time I think I've made it out.
Last Thanksgiving, my dad was already gone. My mother had gone into the hospital several days prior to Thanksgiving, and we thought she'd be released by Thanksgiving. But it didn't happen. So, she spent Thanksgiving in the hospital. Since we had already planned to have Thanksgiving at our parents' house, we still did that, bringing the food we were all going to bring anyway. We ate Thanksgiving dinner at their house, and then we packed up a little plate and went to visit our mother in the hospital. She wasn't really able to eat any of the stuff we brought. She was eventually released a few days later to return home.
This Thanksgiving, the husband and I are doing our own thing, and everyone else in the family is doing their own thing as well. This is part of the process of the water finding its own level, on the way to figuring out what the new normal is now.
And the new normal includes it being more quiet in the house than it's been for the past 15 years. I miss the mornings with Orkid, when the husband is still asleep, and Orkid comes to find me to cuddle for a while. I'll be sitting at my computer, and I can hear her little feet tapping on the floor as she walks over to the room. I'll look at her, and she'll meow at me, and then she'll jump up onto my chair, and then climb on me and settle down.
I'll get to spend some time with friends during the long weekend, so that will be nice. So many things in my mind that I'd like to get done, none of which I've been able to do for months now, and I'm not sure what the chances are that I'll actually manage to do any of them this weekend.
I hope that this Thanksgiving brings you some joy, some happiness, some laughter, and if nothing else, some peace.