A waiting game

I don’t think life should be about just getting through another day, but that’s what I feel like I’m doing right now. I feel like I wake up, put in the hours so I can try to sleep again, and then wake up and do that all over again. I feel like I’m waiting – for what, I’m not sure.

This isn’t to say my life isn’t busy – it is. I’ve got stuff written on my calendar for days and weeks ahead; lunch dates, dance recitals, school plays. I have dogs who need to be walked, grass that needs to be cut and a mountain of paperwork that has to be dealt with. The days are full. But I still feel like I’m waiting.

I feel like I’m living in some netherworld, stuck between plains. A world where the sun rises and sets but I don’t feel its warmth, a place where people come and go and I’m not alone but I’m lonely. My emotions are shallow, only skin deep – nothing gets through the barrier that has grown between me and feeling.

Maybe I’m waiting for the barrier to disappear- maybe daylight has to reach the place where feelings live before they can do their thing again. Nothing grows in the dark. But I fear if I open the door to possibility other emotions will push through as well. I fear there is a flood of tears left to cry and grief is waiting to ambush any feeling that tries to get past the barrier.

I imagine this is part of the process of grieving, of coming to terms with loss. I’ve waited before, waited for something I couldn’t articulate. But this feels different. This loss has left me alone in my house. This loss has left a void that I feel 24 hours a day. This loss has left a hole in my life so deep and dark I actually can’t see the light trying to get in.

I’m not sure that what I’m waiting for will be worth the wait. Sometimes the future looks as lonely as today feels.

If I’m waiting for things to change it’s probably time to accept that it’s me who has to change them. Nobody is going to walk through the front door, shout “I’m home,” and set to the task of making my life work again – I’ve got to do that myself. I’ve got to muster some courage, rustle up some gumption and practice what I preach. I’ve got to step back into life.

I’ve got to be brave enough to let ‘happy’ in the house -I’ve got to risk the grief that will try to sneak in on its tail. I’ve got to re-stock the Kleenex and put on my big girl pants. I have to figure out what I’m waiting for and then I have to get on with the business of getting it.