It's Been A Little While

A friend (Hi, Becky!) mentioned that I haven't been blogging much lately. But I've gotten over halfway through a 70-page spiral notebook in about a week. (Not including the many saved drafts I've got on here that I never finished and published.) It's just one of those times when I choose not to share things publicly.

You see...I've hit that "stage" of grief that I never understood. The anger stage. I think I've been somewhat stuck for awhile now. So if it's necessary to feel anger to continue healing, then bring it on.

I mean, I've been angry at God. Many, many times. And I can't possibly be angry at Chuck for dying. He wanted to live in the worst way. But I'm finding other things to be angry about. Things that used to just make me sad.

I choose not to share those feelings with everyone because, well, I don't want to talk in a negative manner about anything that has to do with him. I have enough guilt for even thinking and feeling those things in the first place.

Let me just say that there are things he could have worded different that would have made my life easier now instead of feeling so torn. That's the reason it's so hard to put away any of his belongings. That's the reason it was so difficult to get involved in this new relationship (which is going quite well, by the way).

I mean, I understand. He was shocked. He was scared. I can't even imagine the intensity of his emotions.

I. Can't. Even. Imagine.

And he only had a few weeks to process that information. Can you imagine being told that you are going to die? How would you react? I can only hope now that he has a greater understanding. I hope that he accepts every decision I make...even if it goes against everything he asked from me. All I can say is that I'm honestly doing the best that I can.

I've made the decision to start putting some of his belongings away. I already put away some of his more personal belongings. His wallet. His comb. His toothbrush. Things like that. I haven't even begun to tackle his dresser and his closet. It just feels like it's time.

Will it be painful? Without a doubt. But it might be more painful to open up his closet and see that his clothes are collecting dust. It's a constant reminder. And it's not that I'm trying to forget that he was here. That he existed and mattered in such a huge way. But I don't want to be reminded, every time I walk into my bedroom, about the hell that we've been through. If I have to keep doing that, I may have to revert back to sleeping on the couch like I did for the first 6 weeks.

I'm not getting rid of anything. I just need to start packing it up and putting it away. I need to make that space my own. Because it is mine now...and only mine. I need to do this in order to start discovering who I am, what I like, what I want, what I need...without him. I need to figure out my life now. My future. Me. And I can't seem to do that when I'm haunted by what was. By what will never be again.

Maybe I'll get it done in a couple of days. Maybe it will take me a month. But I need to do it. I can only hope that it will bring me a little closer to some sort of closure. I can only hope that it brings me a little more peace.

I do know it will bring me pain though. Without a doubt. But I will get through it. It's something I need to do. It will help me to continue to progress. To not get stuck.

I hope he understands. I'm still alive and this is something I need to do to move on.

Under the circumstances that have become my life, I feel pretty damn lucky. I can choose to cry over the loss of my identity. The loss of my life as I knew it and expected it to be until I'm very old. Or I can remind myself how much worse it could be. Under the circumstances, I choose to be grateful for what I DO have. It's not perfect. I still have a lot of things to work through.

But I am moving forward. Through the anger phase and all. Sometimes I slip backwards. And that's okay too. Necessary, even.

It's all a part of the process. It's all a part of my journey.

So in the coming weeks, I will either be blogging more. Or writing more in my personal journal. Either way, I'm working through this.

And it will all be okay. I will be okay.