The Gauntlet & I Can Buy my Own Flowers (Jigsaw Puzzles and Office Supplies are More Like It)

I survived.

This morning, I woke up with a grateful sense of ease. Finally, I can see and feel the light at the end of the tunnel.

The horrible stretch of holidays, my former anniversary, my ex's birthday and Valentine's Day are over. 

Thank god.

The past several months have been hard, probably the hardest I've had since the divorce. Once I got back from Brazil, Christmas and New Year's happened, with the kids dividing their time between Jack and I. January marks the anniversary of our wedding, followed shortly by Jack's birthday and then Valentine's Day, all reminders of what had and hasn't been. One right after the other, without time to bounce back or recover before another reminder hit.

Knowing this is part of the grief process doesn't make it easier. While I abhor the expression "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I can see the same sentiment from a reverse angle: the grief you don't feel will eventually dampen and block the light inside. Grief isn't meant to kill us, to keep us hiding inside or living in fear. We have lost something external to ourselves, perhaps a very important connection that made us part of who we are. We continue to live, even though the "new normal" is not what we dreamed of or hoped for.

To get through this stretch, I channelled Miley Cyrus and bought myself flowers. I had made plans with my girlfriends ahead of time for the anniversary, booking a comedy show months in advance. That weekend was wonderfully busy and full of love from my friends. I bought two Liberty jigsaw puzzles to treat myself, one of foxes dancing in the moonlight, another of an owl and flowers. For Jack's birthday, I bought myself more presents: posh bath towels, a new sweater, lipstick from my friend's cosmetic company, and lacy underwear. I got an overnight bag for future weekend trips. My favorite item on my retail therapy binge were notebooks for work to track my tasks, to cross things off the list to get the rush of accomplishment, no matter how small.

Surviving hard times is no small feat. Leaving untenable situations to leap off into the unknown is no small feat. Transitions are hard, but staying stuck is worse.

I think of my Dad, almost half of his lifetime ago, when he quit his job. He was in his mid-forties, and I was a sophomore at an expensive college. My mother supported his decision to leave what had previously been a good job but had turned into something different when the organization went through several leadership changes. I can't speak for my dad to say how awful the job was or wasn't, but I am guessing it was soul sucking.

Sometimes we need to quit, to say no, this isn't working, this isn't how I want to live. And even if we are 100% convinced we are making the right decision, that there is no solution or possible reconciliation, it is still hard.

At first.

But then it slowly gets better, and we can start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Which isn't really light in a tunnel, but instead our own light coming back into being.