Feelings

This past week I had an emotional time. I was all in my feelings. My heart hurt. I was sadder than normal. I was anticipating the "anniversary." 

3 years? How? When? Not possible.

And yet, there it was...January 14, 2018 was 3 years ago, and January 14 was coming up. The dread started in mid December. 

Looking back on those days will always bring the pain and anguish of watching my father die over weeks of time. There will always be a veil of darkness in front of my eyes as I remember every detail as though it were still happening. I probably seem quite depressed during those weeks to some as I relay my feelings through facebook posts or other ways. Here is my 1 year anniversary post while my feelings were still quite raw...Fearless.

Honestly, I don't think it is depression that encourages me to put it out there for all to see. I have always been very good with emotions. I have never been good at--or even tried to, really--hiding my feelings. I am a cryer, I am a yeller, I am a door slammer (not so much now, but I have broken a door or two back in the day), and I am a lover and a laugher as well. Emotions sit right there on my sleeve for all to see--the good, bad, and the ugly. When I feel, I share. 

I believe that going through the loss of Dad has only brought that out in me even more, and I have grown so much more accepting of feeling what I feel. His dying SUCKED. It still sucks. I am still mad about it. 

For much of 2018, I folded in on myself. I let that darkness tie me to my couch and stop doing things I enjoyed. I became a shell of myself in some aspects while trying hard to take care of those around me. I felt so much pain and loss that it was all I could focus on and when I wasn't consumed by it, I was able to enjoy some of what went on around me. Watching Colin find an increased passion in baseball, watching Christopher excel in school and try new things, watching Riley become engrossed in preschool and enjoying her personality blossoming were all things that brought me joy in an otherwise sorrow filled time. 

This year, I have some new things going on. I am a teacher again--like a for real teacher with students and colleagues depending on me and some legal aspects to my job that I have to focus on. I felt January 14 looming for weeks, as I said, and was debating what I was going to do on that day, as it was a Thursday and I had students to tend to. Last year I took the day off to spend with Mom. This year, as we are already in a sort of hell with virtual learning, I decided not to add to my plate by taking time off and chose to teach. All was fine and went fine. But I could feel myself just being "off." My brain kept slipping off to memory lane and I would have to reign it in. That evening I went to Mom's and we had an extremely special time together...we ordered a yummy dinner (Miller's Ale House) and watched a great movie ("Peanut Butter Falcon, highly recommend) after commiserating at the unfairness of losing Dad and how hard it still is. We talked a lot, cried a little, laughed a lot. It is obvious that the healing is ongoing for us both. 

It wasn't until I was driving home that my breakdown happened. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland came on the country radio station I was listening to and it was automatic. Snot, tears, sobs, all while driving 75 down 66 West. Safe? No. Necessary? You bet. I allowed myself the breakdown and the sad and the mad. I was still spent when I got home and went to bed that night...heavy. 

I expected to still feel that weight when I woke up at 5:20 am for my workout. I woke up, let the puppy out, headed to the gym. Songs on the radio...I sang along. Happy songs. Fun songs. Hmmm. Awesome workout (low pain in my painful legs, yay!) with fun and laughs with my partners in crime. Head home to get ready for the day...more singing and joy on the way home. Hell, I was feeling JOY. What in the world? I was so sad the last few weeks...the last day...and now I am feeling light and that veil is gone. 

I had to ponder what was going on. Was I not still sad that Dad is gone? Nope, that's not it, still sad. Well, what is it then? 

I figured it out. I allow myself to feel what I feel when I need to feel it. I let it out. I cry, rage, scream, and do what I need to do when I need to do it. I give myself permission to be whatever it is I need to be. Through allowing myself that, I am able to keep moving forward and feel the light and the brightness. I leave it all out there so I can soak the rest in. 

Am I saying it is just that easy? Not for everyone, not by a long shot, and I would never presume to tell anyone HOW to grieve or what is right or wrong. For me, this seems to be a way that I can be "strong" through hard things. I don't even know if it makes sense. 

What I do know is that I am still sad, but also happy. Dad always wanted us to "go, do great and wonderful things." If that means sharing my story, I will continue to do so. I miss you, Dad. Thanks for always allowing me to feel...even if you didn't always understand it. We were different in that way, but I can still feel your hand on my back while you comforted me through a breakup in high school. Your hand is still there, I just know it.