I blog

Blog is so close to some familiar words I have felt in these past nine months those words being blah, and blob and bleck. You can see how enormous my vocabulary is, but truth is I blog because it feels much better than journaling. Journaling, to me, means I must write lots of detail, and write daily. Blogging means I can do what I want, when I want and when I feel like and how I feel like and scream as loud as I can while never making a sound. This is why I blog. It is the loudest silent scream I can make.  I feel like a fool screaming into a pillow or alone in the bath tub.  So really it is all about feeling foolish for me.

It is also nice because I don’t have to use proper English and can make up my own words, I can make up my own grammatical format and no one except Microsoft Word will correct me. I like having the last word with Word. I feel so empowered when I ignore most of his suggestions.  I will confess, he has been right on a couple of occasions for all of you who think it is a total power trip for me and I don’t care about putting something coherent down on paper. If you are reading this blog and want to criticize my grammar, go for it, it is already published and no publisher will reject it because it is out there already. (Heavy sigh inserted right here because I feel free at this moment.)

I encourage blogging, it’s fun, freeing and can be enlightening as I talk through a problem on paper and realize a peace at the end of each blog. After a good blog, I feel more settled in my spirit. Though I never spoke out loud to a person, God was with me as my fingers and mind explored the keyboard and put words to paper pouring out the poison, and replacing it with peace, love and happy thoughts.  I have such a difficult time expressing these emotions to people, so I hold it in because I get embarrassed by the attention. It‘s funny, I love when someone feels comfortable enough to unload on me but I hate to be the one unloading. I used to unload quite frequently, but now it seems so senseless. I think my problems too small to burden because in the grand scheme of life, they are. I am just another person struggling with loss and I get by with the help of friends and blogging. The truth is God and I have stuff to deal with, who needs to cross contaminate other people. It is no coincidence when someone comforts me by just a kind word or hug, I don’t need all the fussing.

So yes I blog because I’m happy, I blog because I’m free. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

One Pie at a Time

What I once considered waves now seem to be a cream pie in my face. Early in this crazy process of mourning I had waves of emotion and I would ride them out and cry them out bringing me peace in the process and healing. Now those waves are less sweet and more like a pie in my face and I seriously look around for the clowns afterwards. Here is how they happen. I am watching my dad on the couch, playing with my niece and enjoying the sweetness of their playtime, and then I feel extreme sadness as Steve moves into the picture and it's him and Hannah instead of dad and Julia. Is it jealousy, anger, I don’t know, but it ruined the moment I know that. Then there are the many times I am in public, the man and wife holding hands, the grandfather helping his grandchild into a buggy, or just last night watching grandpa and grandson at a ball game. Substitute Steve is always there being inserted, zing, right in the face.  I recognize these “slaps” are dangerous to my soul, and try to “slap” them away, but they always sting me.

As I ponder the why of them, I also know it is probably my mind trying to heal me through it again and I'm in rebellion. I have let too much of Steve go, the house, his name off the title of our car, his clothes, our belongings, familiar surroundings. I figure the easiest thing is to not think of him too much, keep busy and I can forget and move on. My friend has told me I’m trying to normalize too fast. It could be possible, but what is normal? I’m not psycho that’s a plus, not suicidal although those thoughts enter and are swatted away quickly, I’m not addicted to anything legal or illegal (chocolate does not count). So on paper and in my mind I’m fine.  So why do these “zingers” attack me. The feelings that come are not comforting or peaceful. I think I think I've been good about all of this but in my effort to put on a good face stress fractures formed. My life is summed up in my storage shed, Steve is there and I can’t get to him. I packed him up so quickly, running from the pain trying to get to normal.

I am questioning whether mourning can be lessened by faith. I was pretty strong and got through the hard stuff with God’s mantle across my shoulders I thought I was by-passing a few layers and being glad of not having to suffer so.  I guess time is up,  and the fiery darts of the enemy are getting past the armor I have allowed to rust due to my melancholy. Time I get the Brasso out and do some polishing and repair to my armor. It is time to face it have not pulled my weight in my relationship with God, I have unplugged and it is beginning to show.

The best part is I recognize it and can fix it really quick with some minor effort just by turning my eyes upward again. It is so easy to have my eyes pointed on me and what is not right in my life right now, it‘s harder to keep looking upward. Gravity keeps pulling my head down for relief when relief is in the looking upward. Gravity keeps my eyes focused on my issues with the sale of my house, no job, sad life, then one day I see something reflecting off some filth on the ground and have to look up. It is then when revelation hits, look up where things are brightest, clean and endless. The sun shines from above, not up from the ground. I truly am a sunflower and I need the correct amount of sun or I begin to wilt. Light therapy is the way to go.

Good things come to those who wait, and turn their eyes to Heaven. I'm still waiting but I won't just sit idly by and not grow in the process. I am growing and each step of this dreadful grieving brings me one step closer to the fullness in healing I am aiming for. It took over a year for my body to heal from a minor surgical procedure; I imagine and accept finally that it may take over a year for this to happen for me. This was a much deeper cut and the initial recovery time was much longer too. Acceptance is a good step and one I needed to get to. I am here at acceptance finally, I feel like I just reached home in a Hopscotch game, but now I have to turn around and get back the other way the game is not over yet. So I hop, taking it one square and one pie at a time.  I see you clowns!

Tick Tock Darling

Yes I am still awake, as I look at my Iphone and it says, 12:20 a.m. July 19 and then I understand the restlessness of my spirit. When does my biological clock stop counting the months since widowhood began?  Nine months I have been lost in this terrible dream, at least at the end of nine months of pregnancy I had some blessed reward for the aches and pains I endured. I once heard it takes two weeks to break a habit, hello? It has been 9 months and I still want to speak to my husband. no not only speak to him, I want him to respond back to me. I want a conversation with him and it is just that simple desire that has me feeling like I can scream.

My nieces were here for a visit today and I wanted to record Aly dancing so I could send it to Steve for his enjoyment. I loved taking pictures of them to send to him then he would call me and we would talk about them and how much they have grown. He loved my siblings and most especially he enjoyed being around his nieces and nephews because they made him laugh. I miss having him around to share silly moments and photographs with. It is hard to explain to someone who sees me surrounded by people all the time now, that I just want to share something with Steve. I suppose it was the intimacy of our heart connection that I miss most. There really is no putting a finger on it, but to say it is like feeling for a missing limb. Who can believe you still feel it. My mind is still used to connecting with Steve for special moments and who knows how long this will last, the rest of my life?

I was praying this evening for a very special family member who shall remain unnamed for now, and realized how much I miss praying with Steve about family situations and events. Sure I did the “Steve I know you’re praying about this” shtick to try to connect with him but there was nothing but dead air back at me. My man loved to talk and he loved to pray even more, so you can understand why the silent treatment isn’t working to make me feel better.  Did I ever think of him so much when he was alive? I see him everywhere and think of him way too often. Yes, I am still okay with the death of him, but not so alright with the length of time he has been gone. I need to produce some sort of baby from this nine month life altering event.

I have been experiencing so many things I want to share with him,and only him. I share things with my mom and dad, sisters or friends, but it isn’t as satisfying as sharing them with Steve. It might be gratifying sometime in the future, but not yet. I am depressed I guess, nothing seems to interest me too much except visits from my kids or grandkids. I know we are having another grandbaby soon, but I have yet to get giddy stupid grandma about it yet. I feel grey, not blue. Blue is over the top in the color scheme for me, I am just grey right now which means black is gone so hey, I must be getting better. I expect when Brennan comes, I will be all yellow and orangy again.

So Steve, just so you know darling, my clock still ticks for you and you are still part of my routine. I pray with you, even though your aren’t here, I still shop for you, even though I don’t buy you clothes I talk to you and tell you about the kids. I still have you voice recorded on my phone so I can never forget your voice, though you may not respond correctly to what I say, it is always perfect since it breaks the silence and comforts me for a brief minute.  Love you darling and miss you munga.

Restless Regurgitation

There is a restlessness in me today.  I just want to do something, don’t know what I want to do yet, but I feel I am just sitting waiting on life to happen to me, again! I don’t believe I have soaked it all in yet that I am in a new place, new life and this is it. I am waiting to move or go back home to Alabama at the end of this visit. I have been busy since I have been here which is what it has been like every time I have come home to visit, but now the busyness and newness is wearing away and I am looking for a routine. I realize a routine will come but I am fighting one until I get a job. I’m adjusting to the hot humidity, to the quiet house of readers (my parents) I live with now, and impatiently waiting for my life to settle once again.

I feel as if I have been on an overseas journey for the last nine months, doing things I hadn’t ever done and seeing sights I have never seen before and actually hope to never see again. I have yearned to be near siblings, and my parents for many years, but the trade off was leaving three of my children farther away from me than I have ever been away from any of them all these years. The most distance had been 3 hours away until Kyle decided to leave us for North Carolina two years ago. It is unsettling to the mom in me to have this scattered distance of our children like a thought you can’t quite put your finger on. It tugs at my heart ever so lightly but it is felt and constantly lurking. I feel like the empty nesting is attacking finally. I never really had it when Mary moved out I have to say, I had some fun with girlfriends and since I spoke to her nearly every day, it didn’t feel like she was gone at all.

I have battled many demons in these last nine months voices that spoke out of dark places in me voices I thought long gone and dead. The voices so loud at time I thought I was haunted. I responded several times with “get behind me Satan” because I know from where those sorts of ideas come from. I will not kill myself, I will not drink or drug myself into a coma I will not do anything crazy, because I really am quite practical and sensible, so why should such crazy ideas come to me? Perhaps it is my idle mind that torments or the programs I have seen on television, whatever they are, I fight them off with prayer and friends and family.

 Keeping my mind engaged helps silence the suggestive thoughts, but they are still whispering. I am so glad to be busy because I can’t hear them at over a great book or project or a conversation with someone. I am just quite surprised to have them at all since I feel I am a pretty balanced person. I believe if I didn’t know God, I would surrender and fall into a deep pit of despair.  I notice I don’t wonder about or judge people anymore who commit suicide or drink their selves into a stupor to dull their pain. I understand where the voices come from and will no longer say “What were they thinking. How can they be so selfish?” The voices can be loud and demanding, like drums pounding in your head over and over using enticing arguments against you, making you feel entitled to give in and have some “relief”. It isn’t pretty but then again nothing evil is.

Thank God for His love and my family. Thank God I am able to fight the battle for my mind and recognize it for what it is. I pray for those who do not know and are kept in the dark about the power of God and the prayers that have helped me battle the darkness. So many movies I have seen are more real to me about the battles of good and evil. Evil really does exist people and it never takes a holiday, so we must always be vigilant and on guard not to fall asleep in our efforts to see good in all things. I have bound my mind to Christ and can do all things through him, when I am weak as I am now; He is my strength and battles for me. It amazes me to see myself rise out of the violent vocal storms of the wee morning hours as My God rides in at dawn never failing to rescue me and put me back on my pillow to sleep a whole nights rest in a few short hours.

Ah, this restlessness settles again and life is good once more. Blogging has busied my mind and done what it was meant to do, sorry to put it this so bluntly, but basically vomiting onto paper what has made me sick inside this morning. Purging is good not pretty, but oh the relief of it.

Driving with Heels On

 I spent the morning yesterday, deciding which clothes to wear for my new driver’s license picture and settled on the brown top with the multi color brown knit pants and of course my new shoes, brown sandals with a 3 inch heel. Yes people no one was more surprised than I when I bought those shoes. It was either wear heels or hem every pair of new pants I bought. Did I mention I had to buy work clothes too since I arrived at my new life. Yes, a size smaller, (that’s what I call good grief,) and much dressier than the mom clothes I had been wearing for the past 29 years. A whole new way of living has smacked me hard in the face and in the pocketbook, which reminds me I may need a new one of those too. Damn.

Okay, back to my driver’s license day. I am so not accustomed to wearing makeup either, and I spent extra time trying to apply it so I didn’t look like an old hooker trying to look young again. Have I told you I also haven’t worn much makeup in the past 29 years? Lipstick, I laugh at it as I chew it off as fast as I apply it, but I did promise some friends of mine I wouldn’t leave the house without it on so the last thing I put on my 51 year old starting a new life over again face, was lipstick.

I back out of the driveway and realized how strange the pedal felt on the bottom of my foot, I didn’t feel so connected and one with my car. I actually stalled out in the driveway and then I realized the problem, I was driving with heels on, that had to be the problem.  I hit the street and cautiously creeped to the stop sign a few yards down the road and felt a bit surer of my footing. I turned left and started driving into a new comfort zone. I looked in the rear view mirror and didn’t recognize the person there and I didn’t connect with her either much like my foot and the gas pedal. It felt distant and foreign to me. I am not as sure footed as I have been these past 29 years. I have left the ground behind and am floating into my new life I guess.

I made it to the DMV and checked to be sure I still had some lipstick on my lips as I had chewed my lip in nervous anticipation all the way there. Why was I a feared of the DMV place anyway? I had everything they asked me to bring with me. The notary signed statement that I was Cheryl Renee Travis since they couldn’t accept the car title as Steve or Renee Travis, I had the dreaded death certificate so I could remove Steve’s name from the title too. I even had my proof of residence with a few forwarded envelopes as added ammo in case of emergency. I was fully loaded and prepared to wait for long hours to get all this done. I walked slowly into the facility, didn’t want to fall off my new heels, and took my number, 45. I settled in to watch the Jungle Book which was the movie playing on the TV to my pleasant surprise. I hadn’t seen that movie in years and it took me back to Guam when Steve and I watched it together at an outdoor theater night on base. I was disappointed when they called number 45 so quickly because I was really enjoying that movie and the reminiscing.

I was greeted with a smile and pleasant small talk as we dove into my business at hand. First the drivers’ license then the car tag so she could put my license number on the tag information. She also informed me I could register to vote there too. What a nice surprise. Of course I had to inquire as to whether she could find me a job also to which she was glad, I am sure, to say no. Everything went so smoothly as I was directed to the last counter to take my picture and pay the big money I was shocked to have to pay. I sat for a minute in that waiting area when the lady there called for Steve Travis. I immediately realized I had forgotten to give the other lady the death certificate to remove his name from the title. I informed the woman at this end of the counter of my error and she said no problem just to take it back down there and she would fix it for me. First I had to resolve the driver’s license part of my being there and take my picture. I stood with my back to the blue background and licked my dry lips and I was done. She handed me a voter’s registration form to fill out while I was waiting for the first woman to get back to me on the title. I was also handed my new driver’s license only to see my tongue sticking out licking my lips. I was so disgusted. I spent all that time in makeup and heels for my picture to come out like this. I slipped it into my wallet vowing to never get stopped by the police or carded (like that would ever happen).

Then I was called back to the counter to redo my title information. She was so nice and I shared my lovely new photo with her and she said “we can’t have that” and took it back to her supervisor who said I could retake my photo again. I was never so grateful. Who wants to have their tongue sticking out at a police officer at a potential I hope never happens traffic stop. The woman was so nice to me and understanding and it really felt like it was no problem for her and took a minimal amount of time to attend to the title repair. I was done in a matter of minutes, again. I went back to the end counter, paid my high tag fee and was free to leave.

 So I got the pretty new tag for my car, the title out of my name, registered to vote and a decent driver’s license photo and I had the most pleasant DMV experience in my life. Walking cautiously back to my car with license plate in hand it started to hit me, and my emotions took over. I had another "this is real" moment. I broke down in the DMV parking lot as I realized that I had released Steve once more from my life, as I became a resident of another state, and I am driving in heels with make up on. Talk about out of my comfort zone. I am so far out of my comfort zone that I am driving like a maw-maw driver and it’s scary. It feels like I am speeding, but really I am barely moving and people are honking at me to go faster but I can only go this comfortable speed for now. I am beginning to get the hang of it though and may hit the fast lane one day, but for now I don’t care about being a slow cautious driver. I feel safe so get over it already. I am a Maw-maw driver in heels and lipstick, watch out I am driving as fast as I can.