I keep wondering if I'm approaching my breaking point. What does that look like? It's too much. But I've been saying it's too much for a while now. So when is it actually too much?
I pushed "Send" and my text whooshed off to my best friend, Denise. Three dots immediately popped up on my screen.
You're stronger than you think. Tell your brain to shut up. You got this!
I smiled at her reply, even if I doubted her confidence.
In August, my husband of 17 years died. One day, he was alive, healthy, vibrant, and strong. The next day, he was dead. Just like that. No warning. No preparation. In an instant, my world crumbled into a million tiny bits that flung themselves to the far corners of the solar system. I couldn't fathom how to get through that day, or the next, or the next. I remember thinking, What does November even look like? Or next summer? How do I even get there? But the mornings kept coming, the sun kept rising, and I had no choice but to keep moving forward. In my mind, there was no other alternative. So the days went by.
In September, I went on a river trip with three of my very best friends. In that one week on the river, my world pieced itself together. It looked significantly different from my old world, but I felt some semblance of wholeness again. I rediscovered Joy, Hope, Love, Support, and Happiness. I tried as best as I could to hold onto those feelings as I re-entered normal life, but it became harder and harder.
October rolled around, bringing with it endless streams of epiphanies, realizations, and discoveries. Some were amazing, heart-warming, and brought so much happiness and love that sometimes I felt my heart would burst wide open with Gratitude. Others were heavy, dark, and painful. Some days, Anger closed in on me like a vice, boiling my blood and relentlessly scratching at the back of my skull. And the days kept coming.
November brought a different form of heavy. Someone very near and dear to me had to be moved into a memory care facility. I have never dealt with dementia first-hand, but have heard all the stories from clients and friends. Seeing it up close and personal is an entirely different experience. The move was met with resistance and confusion, and in the days since the relocation, there have been many highs and lows. This is the right move for my loved one, but it has been difficult to deal with all the emotions that go along with dementia.
And now we are into December. Last week, I made the horrible, difficult, awful decision to have my 18-year-old cat, Lily, put to sleep. She had been suffering from chronic urinary tract infections, was pacing the house constantly, and was in continual discomfort. She had lost a significant amount of weight. Under her fluffy calico coat, she was nothing but skin and bones. It was time, and it was heartbreaking.
Shannon got me a card game called "How Deep Will You Go?" Each card has a deep, thought-provoking question meant to stimulate conversation and self-discovery. The other night, I drew a card from the deck.
What is one thing life has taught you up to this point?
My first thought was, Life is a motherfucker. But let's go deeper. What I realized is something I have mentioned in a previous blog. Life has taught me that two opposite ends of the spectrum can exist in the same space. I can be crippled with Infinite Sadness, yet also feel Infinite Joy. I can be blinded by Rage, yet also feel Endless Gratitude. I can be overwhelmed with the thought of getting out of bed in the morning, yet also be excited for a dog walk or a bike ride or a hike or seeing a dear friend. I can feel the bottomless pit of Despair, and also feel more True Love, Trust, Safety, and Support than I ever thought possible.
Have I reached my breaking point? I thought having to put Lily to sleep might push me over the edge, but it didn't. My support system is rock solid. I could not have made it through the past four months alone, and my friends and loved ones continue to show up any time I need or ask them for support. I am not at my breaking point. Perhaps I have toed the line a few times, but I am not there anymore. I know more epiphanies and realizations and discoveries are on their way, and I will continue to process things as they arise. But the sun keeps rising, and the days keep coming, and I don't get to do any of them again.
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