There are no cue cards, there is no rule book.
I only have the bits and pieces of what I have
learned from other people’s stories,
from books or movies,
from a class.
I have to write my own story,
I have to figure this out for myself;
I have to design my own plan.
I have to walk this journey in my own shoes,
no one to guide me.
It’s like flexing a new muscle,
developing a new skill;
one I always knew I would have to learn,
one you can’t really prepare for,
something I knew lurked ahead but ...
Now I have jumped off this cliff.
I come from a very productive-oriented life:
With producing things there is a sense that, if you just do it right, it will work.
Put in the time, follow the directions, get the right tools, make it work;
use your problem solving skills.
With this grief, there is no …
It is different;
it is not a problem to be solved with my mind.
It takes time,
but another kind of time.
Time to just be, to feel.
I almost have to get sick to slow down and feel,
be with my memories.
This is a different kind of work;
one I am not as good at.
It feels weird, ungrounded, unhinged, new.
This is where I can rely on what I have heard,
what I have learned from others’ experiences:
This is normal.
I have to keep telling myself that.
It is ok to just sit.
In fact, it is necessary.
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