It has been two months since my last update! This is a tough one, but I feel it is important be authentic. Sorry about any gruesome references. Hehe! I really am feeling better now after traveling through these last weeks.
One of the exercises in the book “The Artist’s Way” is to write yourself a letter from your higher self. The directions say to actually put it in the mail, forget about it, and then read it when you receive it. It was quite a good jolt into another awareness when I read mine! Here it is.
Dear Princess Sarah:
Hope you are doing well.
Please know that you are precious to me-more precious than gold. Always be kind to yourself no matter the challenge you are currently facing. Remember I am with you always. Remember every apparent stumble is your chance to grow! The harder the fall the more the rise. So be encouraged dear one and take deep, deep breaths.
Upon reading this and thinking about who this princess in this earthly realm is, her experiences, her angers, her sadness, I start to see there is more to grieve. The loss of innocence, and the loss of being true to myself- that wild teenager, who was wild but on a direct mission to find God. I had the loss of my natural family by leaving home and joining a very controlling hierarchical church. I did, however, gain a church family, and no one can take the love relationships away.
On the weekend of April 18th Dave, Hope, Hazel and I got to meet up with some of Michael’s family to watch Michael’s grand-nephew Max play baseball in Newburg south of Portland. It was so good to see everyone, even if Max couldn’t play his usual position of catcher, due to resting a hand injury.
On the way home and also before the watching the game, I had a lot of negativity coming at me from my own lovely brain: I am too old, and not very functional, too wrinkly and fat… and insecure about ever getting a man-partner relationship again.
After coming home again to an empty house my first reaction this time was anger and me saying no! I don’t want to live alone. It sucks! Yes, I have been considering trying to find someone to partner with.
The kind of rage I felt was intense– even to where I wanted to strip down, paint my body, and run screaming through the woods. I almost wanted to feel pain in my body to somehow acknowledge my grief. Instead of banging my head against the wall (it might have damaged the wall!! Haha!) I wrote in my journal exorcising demons. I wrote a little dreamscape, visualizations directly from my imagination and perhaps my subconscious. In it I am a woman in a tomb with her dead husband’s sarcophagus and I commit suicide by stabbing a knife into my gut.
I cried a bit and went outside to check on my plants. And there in the back yard were the pair of mallard ducks again! Eating something in the grass. I didn’t scare them away. They just keep being there and getting close. Of course, I softened and cried. I took pictures. Then I got tired of watching and came inside. Michael once again reminding me all will be well. They sure showed up at the right time.
It feels like grief and loss is hitting me harder this year. I talked about this in our therapy group and the therapist leading the group explained that the 2nd year is often harder. Because you have done your TO DO lists and you feel good about all the accomplishments. And you kind of think you should be done with this grief thing. I certainly have been proud of myself. But then you realize your mate really is GONE, and not coming back. He really hasn’t been on a long workshop in Hawaii learning how to surf giant waves! This is your life now, you live alone. Is this how you want to live it?
The therapist also gave an interesting statistic. 60% of widowed men get another partner. A paltry 20% of widowed women do the same. Two ladies in the group described how they were done with caretaking and have no desire to have another partner. That does make sense. However, I am not sure that is for me.
Other news: I have been having a good time working with CSS (Community Supported Shelters) a group that creates little huts for the unhoused to live in. A couple times a month I do a qigong class for the staff. It is a very stressful job for they have. Think about keeping the peace in a small community with mostly all the inhabitants imbalanced mentally, so I try to provide respite. The director there, my friend, and I are trying to find a way to offer it to the clients that live in the huts as well. This is challenging because they do not know what qigong is. We are looking to rebrand it as “wellness movement”. At this point I just hang in the access center and talk to the people that come in for showers about how these exercises could potentially make them feel better, more relaxed, and calm. I have no idea what will happen with this. But invention comes through a lot of experimental trials!
A few days ago I wrote this:
Something is rotten in Denmark. And Denmark is me. It is like I am carrying around something that I need to barf out. Not unlike nausea- I can be distracted for a bit, but then it is back. What is it then? I just feel like I need to cry a lot. I went to church today and just stayed in the worship and left early to spend more time with Hazel. I cried through the whole worship. I feel like my heart needs to be torn open so I can see reality and really take steps to heal! Again, I told myself to write. More demons to let loose.
Another day after I wrote that, I was doing qigong standing poses, and towards the end of my 30 minutes of trying to dissolve, etc. I felt a light come down from my left and wrap around my back below my arms, and they lifted on their own. At first a little and then more, circling around pointing at my lower dantien (belly below navel). Then I just felt such love and support. I cried. Why do I cry when a kindness is expressed? I think just feeling that love helps me acknowledge how I am really feeling. The sense was like I had my own wings sprouting from my own back, the support stayed there and strangely I was reminded of that horrible Viking torture that I couldn’t watch with Michael on the show “Vikings”. They would cut your skin and muscle back and make you have wings, exposing your ribs and you would die slowly.
In my case I feel that support and I am going to live slowly.
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