Comfort Circles

 I had a pretty good Saturday. One of those days where every item on the list is crossed off. Even the ones that were a long shot like getting a flu shot, going for a long run.

I didn't really enjoy Sunday. I did some cooking, cleaning, tried needlepoint, wrote a bit, visited a friend. I felt waves of sad about Andrew and how alone I am/ general grief. 

I thought, maybe I could spend time alone and be okay. I discovered I'm not ready. There is still the concept of too much alone time. I'd had part of Saturday and most of Sunday. I watched some movies for tv noise while cooking or cleaning and my grief came bubbling up, crying and sad; brief episodes. 

It's odd how comfortable I am with crying. I can cry, dry my eyes with my hand, take a deep breath and get up to check bars in the oven. I don't think it's about being cold, or not genuine; I think it's about being comfortable with crying. I don't try to stop it most of the time. I don't try to figure it out as much. for example, when someone unexpectedly dies on tv. 

Maybe I needed time to grieve. I'd like to think so, but the undercurrent, haunting feeling of sad.... I felt myself slowly dropping in energy, in attention, throughout Sunday. I didn't get out for a walk. I regret that/ hopefully will remember to try it next time. It was windy, then rainy. I like a windy, rainy walk...usually a quieter time on the paths. It's refreshing to feel the wind in my face.

 I'm just not liking myself much these days. I think I'm feeling the impact of loss in a shame way. I delivered food to a friend; came home and thought about how the food could have been better, critiqued my conversation, finding fault in my words. Literally thinking I was clueless, selfish or tactless. It's like this bubbling pool of validation as to why bad things have happened to me. I'm just not good enough for the good stuff. So, here I go reminding myself of the good stuff.

Ray, Nadia, my friends...no family left. but people love me. I have a good job. I can support myself. I'm healthy. My home..Outside my window, I hear the hoot of an owl, geese fly over the pond near my house and their beauty, their purpose astounds me. Literally shakes my spirit. 

Gratitude leads to ungrateful in this thought circle... How neurotic Margot. Talk about first world problems!!! But I'm chronicling grief in all the hard and soft edges which includes the thinking. We don't talk about grief's shameful awful parts. 

 I hear about them in my work and so does my therapist. As a therapist, I feel powerless with this line of thinking.  I'll say you don't deserve suffering.  My own suffering tries to convince me I do because my character flaws( my grief and shame say) are what got me here. 

So change! the therapist says.  I'm trying but part of the finality of grief is, ultimately, the change won't matter to the person/ the loss that caused the change. You don't get to show them. You don't even know if they would want or agree with the character changes. This thinking is a subtle, smaller part of the loss stage of bargaining. If I change, would you come back? Would it change the past? No, but...

I have to believe, yes you read that right, I choose to believe... they would want us to grow. To keep working on us because we are human and imperfect. I believe, they would cheer on... this drive toward being our best us. It's just so fucking sad they don't get to be a part of it. It's that sappy movie again! to know they are proud of us completes the circle of change. 

I don't think I'm alone in being a creature wanting recognition. And yes, recognizing our own change is important. It's just not as sweet as people I love recognizing it.