Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Happy New Year 2014

... and so the new year begins.
I'd like to write with more intention, here on this blog, in a journal, for my group and perhaps for publication. I've sort of gotten out of the habit. Plus, when I sit down to write, it turns into an on-going, many times interrupted process - like my last post of 2013. I think I should do more writing and less self-editing, at least til the thoughts swirling around in my head are wrestled to the page.

Now, clearly is not the time to start. I have a plethora of things to do - finish making some bears, start making some others, fold the laundry, address Christmas cards.

But here's the thought I had as I started to write. On the 23rd of this month my father will have been dead for 3 years. And Texas Jimmy, another man who played a very important part in my life, will turn 70. For one I still grieve, the other I celebrate and rejoice. As I sit here thinking about both these men, listening to my Sweetie talk about my new spy-size camera, tears run down my face like the rain running off the roof outside. I wonder why I still get so (SO) sad when it comes to my father? And even though it makes perfect sense (to me) to still be "attached" to my ex-husband (we met when I was 15, were married for 20 years, had two children together, loved and fought passionately, share memories to great to count or forget) my psychiatrist seems to think the attachment is a little weird. Weird isn't the psychobabble term he used, but that's the it made me feel.

Instead of moving ahead into the future of what might happen, I feel stuck in the past with a sack of rocks on my shoulder that I want to put down. I want to walk away from them, let them be, and not look back. I remember when my little ones stepped on the school bus for the first time, and I waved goodbye then quickly turned my head so they wouldn't see my cry. That's kind of how I feel right now.  I know it's okay to cry. I know the future holds people and lessons and hopes and dreams that could easily fill up the sack, if I'd just lay the rocks aside.  Actually, it's not the putting them down that's so hard, it's the leaving them there. Like I don't know what to do or feel when the weight of them is not there.  Like a comfortable pair of jeans, all worn and raggedy and stretched to two sizes past baggy, it's hard to squeeze into something new when the old is less of a struggle. (I may have to agree with Dr. Joseph, that sounds weird to me too.)

I haven't given much thought to new year's resolutions, or choosing a word to guide me through the year. I couldn't even remember what my word was last year (focus) so I'm not so sure my word picking is that productive. As I go about my busy-ness the next few days, I'm going to think about a word, about letting go, about remembering, about gratitude for what was and what will be.

I hope the year ahead will be full of delightful surprises. May you know joy and feel peace. May you dance in the rain, laugh out loud, and be often in the company of children.

Happy New Year,
Merry ME

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

When I made a run to get a burger to satisfy the craving I've had all month, I listened to Oprah on the XM radio. There was a lady saying before she made out her New Year intentions/resolutions/whatever, she made a list of the downer's from the old year. Then she burned them in the fireplace. I thought that sounded like a pretty awesome idea - and I'll probably be doing that when I come back from the long New Year's Day walk I promised the goldens.

Happy New Year, Mary! And many more~

Molly

Jody said...

Dearest M,
Happy New Year to you and Sweetie.
*hugs*

I can totally relate.
For years and years I was stuck in the past, grieving so deeply, attached to people i should have not let haunt my thoughts and heart to the extent they did, unable to be resilient like it seemed other people were.

It took one day when somebody asked me what I wanted more than anything for my life… and I responded passionately 'just not to hurt anymore".

From that point forward, I gradually bit by bit, slowly (sometimes a baby step forward and two steps back) began to be kinder to myself.

I began to let go of the blame, the unspoken commitment to being lonely. the virulent daily self-criticism that kept me aching and feeling 'less than'.

My focus infinitesimally began to shift more to what brings me pleasure than what brings me pain.
i don't whip myself with memories of failure and loss.
I tell myself I did the best i could for what I knew at the time, and that there was a lesson to learn that I needed to be loving to myself and that's why that thing showed up that had upset me so much.
The pain was a beacon that I was seeing things off-kilter, and needed to course correct, to not be so harsh with myself, and to make choices that supported me rather than those that kept me on the 'stuck' treadmill…

Hope that makes sense.

We grieve because we think it defines us, paying pence for our imagined and real wrongs or failings.
We grieve to this enormous extent because its become a habit we thought we think its necessary.
Really, it isn't:)

xoxoxo,