choosing this…

Heya Bab,

I’m in Amsterdam now on my way to another somewhere else that would have scored me points on our country competition list. I am officially kicking your ass.

I sometimes think my life is lived in transit, that the still points in between journeys are just daydreams breaking up the length of the ever rising road that stretches out ahead. But I won’t complain because we both know I kind of like it that way.. so far at least!

This morning I had just come into the headquarters for my briefings with people who expect me to be sane, sensible and to know what I’m talking about, when I got an e-mail from you. What is with that?!

Your name in my inbox was a stab of pain in my chest, a rising panic. The tears blurred up in my eyes so fast that I couldn’t even read the rubbish spam your e-mail account had sent me.

It was another here we go again. Another time when I feel fine, then grief ambushes me and suddenly I’m teetering on the edge of falling apart.

But this time I chose not to and that made me realise something has changed, something is changing.

I’ll feel this pain and shed those tears but not right now. Not when I need to be strong and sentient for people who don’t know me, and frankly don’t have time to care all that much.

It’s a little step bab but now there is enough of me to choose when the tears can come. The choosing works 9 times out of 10 and if I really need to cry on the tenth time, I will and to hell with anyone it bothers. I am regrouping, regrowing. I am becoming something more. There is enough of me to know that I am whole even when I am broken, that I’m okay even when this is not.

There is enough of me to laugh at the idea that you have written from the grave to tell me about Viagra or a pyramid scheme..

There are many things that trip me. But now  I know I can choose to get back up, and that the beauty of that rise is as powerful as the punch of the plunge.

Grief has taught me a lot about choices. We all journey down a road with many forks and junctions, stumbling though places where it is easy to linger too long. There are many choices that will make you if you do not make them. There are bogs that people tell us to blunder into just because it is what everyone does.

I am trying to do it a bit differently. I am trying to choose my own path, the right path.

I am choosing not to be bitter, not to let anger find fertile ground in the muck of loss. I am choosing to ask the questions even when I may not get an answer. I am choosing to be vulnerable, to hold my heart open in a wave hello. I am choosing to cry but let the tears slope off a smile.

I am choosing to hold you, to love you, to hurt for missing you, to feel this because I know there is more of me to be found here than in any hidey hole I could run to.

I am choosing to be odd, to follow what I feel even though what is normal says its wrong.

You always liked a rebel.

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2 Responses to choosing this…

  1. The T says:

    you are one of my first stops that I choose to make when catching up on reading. Every sentence you write either makes me cheer or makes me wrench in pain from the power of emotion you’re attempting to convey.

    Love you? Yeah… your words pull at me… they are so strong….not everyone writes with the passion of the pain in their soul… I hope spilling your grief is helping you to get past these moments…. i could only imagine you in love… how lucky your partner must be…

    T.

    • What a lovely comment to find sitting in my inbox – a heartfelt thank you from a day not quite spoiled by bloody Viagra! It is always wonderful to know the people read, though somehow it matters much more to me that I write…. this blog has actually moved me a much greater distance than all of the flights I’m taking. Let’s hope Bangladesh helps me towards a few more of the posts that make you cheer 🙂

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